Ferret Fever

	As during any other springtime night, Tom had left his window cracked so he'd have a continuous flow of fresh night and early-morning air while he slept. It kept the bedroom just barely too chilly, so that his multilayered, body-heat-insulating bundle of blankets would compensate: just the way he liked it. Sometime before dawn that day, though, he'd managed to unravel his normally comfy cocoon during barely-conscious fits of unsettled tossing and turning. When sleep faded entirely, the little fox sprawled on sheets dampened with his sweat, wondering why those cozy hours of rest ended so early; why his throat felt sore now when it was fine before bedtime. Tom's stuffed toy rabbit was nestled close to his chest, and he stared down at it, whispering to it, his wet nose brushing up against its sewn-on bunny mouth.

	“I can't get a cold now, Hopper... right? I already did in the Fall...”

	Tom shoved blankets away with irritated kicks, exasperated panting, and ran his fingers through his damp white and gray head-fur. A worried look spread across his face; he knew what was coming. He was going to get sick, and there was nothing he could do about it. For 45 minutes he switched sleeping positions, flopping side-to-side with helpless squeaks and groans. He never settled on one; couldn't escape the confining heat. His growing frustration overwhelmed him finally, and with a grunt he pushed Hopper away from his body and rolled off the opposite side of the bed onto his feet, his tail flicking to one side for balance.

	Tom quietly uttered the worst swear he was comfortable saying, voice fragile and crackly with frustration: “Damn it!” His eyes were starting to tear up, but he sniffled, took a deep breath, and recomposed himself.

	He went to the window and thrust it all the way open, standing still for a moment while a cool breeze teased his fur and temporarily sucked away the sticky heat. Then he went to the bathroom and flipped on the lights, squinting at his brightly-illuminated self in the mirror while he turned on the sink faucet. A pitiful sigh escaped his muzzle as he ran his hands and arms under cool sink water, scooped some of it onto his legs, and spread it over the bottoms of his feet. He ran his wet palms over his white face-fur, over the gray fur around his eyes and on his ears. In desperation, he peeled off his briefs and long t-shirt, then sloshed more water against his naked belly and sheath; sighed as it matted his fur and trickled down his thighs, dripped between his feet onto the small bathroom rug. Tom returned to bed shivering, but soon heated up again while his fur stuck to further-soaked sheets.

	The remaining night and pre-sunrise seemed to stretch on forever, filled with unsatisfying bursts of half-sleep and repeated attempts to cool off in the sink. The soreness in his throat progressively worsened, and he had to sniffle to keep his nose from dripping. When Tom's alarm finally started to buzz he got up and put on the minimal amount of clothing he'd stripped off during the night, then stumbled downstairs in a miserable daze to tell his mom he wasn't going to school today. He stood stoically in the doorway to the kitchen, clutching Hopper by the arm, while his mom fussed and hurried in preparation for work.

	Tom didn't have the energy to say anything more than “Mom...”. Mom guessed what was wrong when she saw him standing there lethargically, coughing and sniffling, looking down at his feet, his legs shaky and weak. She checked the sluggish cub's symptoms, determined he had a cold – nothing too serious – and she sat him down at the table while she figured out what to do with him.

	Tom's mom rested her hands on his shoulders, leaning down to his level to speak. The fox cub just stared at her red-painted finger claws, not really listening. “Dad and I both have lots of work for a few days, honey. We'll get someone to take good care of you. Let's see... Let me just call...” She trailed off while fumbling through her purse for her phone. Her words sounded more for her own benefit than his.

	Tom just grunted and turned away, shrugging and slumping his chin down onto the table, his wilted tail hanging off the edge of the chair. He watched Mom pacing back and forth across the room while she spoke. His ears swiveled toward her voice, though he wasn't paying much attention. He heard she was talking to his Uncle Taylor. The ferret was only really a step-uncle, but he'd lived his whole childhood around Tom's mom. So, besides the species difference, it was just like the two were regular siblings.

	Tom caught a few one-sided pieces of their conversation: “I'm sorry... just today, until I can get a babysitter... absolutely sure he won't bother you?” He flicked his ear away, irritated; kicked the chair across from him and made it scoot backward with a screech. He hated when his mom sounded so fake and overly-apologetic with other people. Especially when she was apologizing for him. The chair probably made a mark on her spotless, hardwood floor, and Tom gave Hopper a secret smile for his moment of unnoticed, tiny revenge.

	And Tom caught the most embarrassing part of the conversation, though his mom used a more hushed tone: “He occasionally has problems with scent-marking and bed-wetting... Shouldn't be a problem, though.”

	Tom tugged down on his ears, groaned as his skin blushed red under his fur, and mumbled to himself. “Great... just tell the whole world, Mom.” He knew he was supposed to have grown out of that stuff by now, but he just couldn't help it. He didn't need his relatives knowing about it.

	After his mom ended the call, she came to the table and patted him on the head. “You're going to go to your Uncle Tay's house, and he's going to take care of you for a little while while Mom's at work, okay?”

	Tom gave a barely-noticeable nod, managing to squeak out a grating “Uh-huh.” His mom went upstairs to get some things for his stay while he rested his cheek on the cool surface of the table, sighed, staring at the wall with a glazed expression, his mind tired and blank.

	When Mom returned she wrapped one of Tom's blankets around him, then stood him up. “Let's go. Mommy'll be late for work.”

	She was in a hurry; couldn't spare the time to try getting a full set of clothes on the slow-moving seven-year-old, so she maneuvered Tom to the car in his long sleep-shirt and tighty-whitey undies, while he stayed snuggled beneath the same thick blanket he'd shoved away during the night.

	In the car, Tom twisted himself sideways against the pull of the seat belt so he could curl up on the seat and rest his bare feet up next to his tail. The fox was cold and shivery now, at the opposite extreme compared to his feverish night. He pressed his cheek up to the window and stared outside, just letting his mind wander as he fogged up the glass with his shaky breath. At that point, it didn't matter to Tom who was taking care of him, as long as he got to rest and feel better. He let out dispassionate and brief laugh; wondered how his unfortunate uncle felt about having to deal with a cub coughing and sneezing germs onto all his stuff.

––-

	The car jolted to a stop and Tom braced himself with his open palm against the back of the passenger seat in front of him. He sat up and put his feet on the floor; clicked his seat belt release button and stretched while he stared out the window at Uncle Tay's house. It was just one story and smaller than Tom's house, but was more than large enough for someone living on his own like Tay was. Tom had never been in his uncle's house; the cub only saw Tay at his birthday dinners and various other family events. The most significant things he remembered about Tay were the birthday presents he got for Tom. They were entertaining little things: fun and simple toys that were more interesting than a generic kid's-birthday card.

	Mom circled the car, carrying a backpack full of her son's stuff, and opened the door for him. The barely-clothed fox shivered as his naked foot pads lightly slapped down onto the morning-cooled cement walkway to Tay's front door, and Tom hurried behind his mother the best he could with his limited energy. When the door opened, Tom smiled weakly at his uncle and nudged past, warming his feet on the entryway rug with toes curled up against one another.

	“Hi, Uncle Tay.” The boy-fox spoke unenthusiastically, huddled under the blankie over his shoulders, as he looked up at Tay.

	Tom's uncle was lean like most all ferrets, and appeared taller than he really was; it seemed to Tom, from his exaggerated young perspective, that Tay towered over the little second-grader. Tom thought Tay was young for an uncle, though: at 30, he was 10 whole years younger than Tom's mom. Tay's face looked friendly topped with his rounded little ears; lips slightly parted in a grin that showed off playful fangs; and fluffy, pure-white, evenly groomed fur. That pretty fur made Tom self-conscious about his own, though, which was in a regrettable state from his restless and soggy sleep: matted in some places and sticking straight out in others. Tom's eyes flicked shyly away from Tay's after a moment, idly staring toward the rug where bare, white ferret feet stood near his.

	Tay gave Tom a sympathetic look and rested his hand on his nephew's head. He gently fluffed the boy's fur. “Hey there. Sorry you're feeling all crappy today.”

	Tom folded his ears back, shivered at the touch, and tilted his head back, looking inquisitively up at his uncle, a giggle almost forming in his gut at the word “crappy”. Then Tom stifled two coughs with his palm and looked away again.

	The two adults small-talked, and Tom got irritated quickly as he was forced to stand and listen; he wouldn't be comfortable venturing on his own into the unknown house. The ferret needed to take him. Tom shifted on his feet, flicked his tail so it beat against the door, tried to get his mom to notice him so she'd stop talking and he could be shown to a comfy place in which to rest.

	Eventually, Tom gave up on subtlety: “Mom...” he dragged out the 'o' sound indignantly and glared at her. “You have to go to work now.” the cub told her in a snippy tone, sniffled and wiped his nose on the back of his wrist.

	Tay came to his rescue, turning toward the helpless foxie: “I'll show you where my room is. You can take my bed, and watch TV or play video games if you want.”

	Tom nodded, his unpleasant expression eased. Tay took the backpack from the kit's mom and the the three said goodbye.

	Tay showed Tom down a hallway to his room, the ferret's hand pressed against the boy's back to lead him as they walked beside each other. When they got to the bed, Tay slipped his hands under the cub's arms – cushioned by Tom's blanket covering – and lifted him onto it, setting him down on his butt on the cushy-soft mattress and pulling the sheets over him. Tay sat beside Tom while the boy settled himself below the covers, the sheets cool against his invading footpaws as they thrust down deep toward the foot of the bed.

	The ferret's hand hovered before Tom's eyes for a moment, then lowered to cup his forehead and check his temperature. Tay's touch was gentle; his comforting pads gradually sank down onto Tom's fur. It was so pleasantly unlike the brusque motions his parents would have used. Tom groaned as the tender pressure soothed the headache he hadn't – until just then – realized was there, concealed beneath his other symptoms. His eyelids eased shut and he rolled his head toward Tay, holding Hopper in his arms; the ferret's hand moved with it. A real smile appeared on his face for the first time that day.

	“Am I hot, Uncle Tay?” Tom was asking about his temperature, of course, but Tay found double meaning in the phrase, and couldn't help grinning.

	Tay answered both at once: “Yeah, you're very hot.” He gave Tom's forehead a couple of pats with his hand and stood up. “I'm gonna let you rest. I'll bring you some chicken soup a little later. Weird breakfast, I know, but it'll feel good.” Tom silently agreed, nodding so his cheek brushed over the cool pillowcase. It probably smelled like Tay and clean laundry, but the poor, sick foxie couldn't tell.

	“I'll just be in the next room working. Let me know whenever you need anything, okay?” Tay said as he tucked Tom in and pulled the bedsheets up to his chin.

	Before he left the room, Tay gave Tom the TV remote, and the fox switched to his favorite cartoon channel. His tail gave a happy little wiggle when he realized he could watch all the shows he never got to see that came on during school hours. Tay had an Xbox, too, but Tom knew he couldn't yet gather the effort required to play a video game. Passively watching TV was all he wanted now. And this would allow him to randomly drift off at any time sleep wanted to overtake him.

	Tom wrapped himself in layers of sheets and comforters, groped for a tissue from the box on the bedside table to his left, and stuffed his snout in it. He blew his nose and panted, fully stuffed up. Grunting, he grabbed for another tissue, tried again and again to clear at least one nostril so he could breathe. Left unsatisfied again, the fox grumbled and settled himself into a comfy position with his head propped on a pillow. Hopper got set up next to him so that the rabbit could “see” the TV, too.

	Tom drifted back and forth all day between sleep and lazy TV-staring. His headache only got worse, and so did the rest of his symptoms. Used tissues piled up next to him, and his coughing got persistent and painful. He only left the warmth and protection of the bed when he needed to pee, and he made it quick. He didn't even bother to wash his hands or dry off any fur caught in his stream; just shoved his dampened sheath back into his briefs while he stumbled back to bed, and it pressed a wet circle into the fabric.

	Tay frequently checked in on the sick cub, though he was careful not to disturb the kit's erratic sleep. He monitored Tom's temperature, cleaned up his tissue messes, kept him supplied with a fresh glass of water, and brought him hot meals and tea. Tom was hardly coherent during any of it, except while he ate. He didn't remember much of that day; just a blurred stream of cartoons and Uncle Tay bringing him things, sticking a thermometer under his tongue, caressing his ears back, brushing claws delicately through his head-fur. He remembered the gentle tilt of the mattress each time Tay sat beside him just to comfort the boy during semiconsciousness. Each time he'd snuggled up to his uncle's warmth without even really knowing it, relaxed from ears to toes when Tay rubbed and petted him.

––-

	The room was dark when Tom was again pulled out of sleep, coughing onto his pillow. The TV was off and sunlight no longer shone through the blinds. The last thing he remembered was eating dinner before he'd slipped into another feverish nap. Now he was lying on his side, comfy with Hopper held against his chest, and he felt a steady breath against the back of his neck. He wriggled his thinly-covered butt backward and felt resistance: cushy ferret tummy. He felt an arm loosely draped over his own, and realized his right fist was held within the powerful but gentle grasp of a big man-hand. He snuggled all the way back until warm and bare chest fur was flat against his cool and sweat-damp nightshirt.

	Tom didn't speak; couldn't arrange his thoughts in his achy, drowsy head. He just lay there staring at the vague outlines of objects in the dark room until his thoughts eventually materialized into confusion: Why would his uncle want to be touching him when he was so sick? Wasn't he worried about germs? Not even Tom's parents – the people who supposedly loved him more than anyone else in the world did – allowed such a close and sustained snuggle when Tom had a cold. His mom had even skipped her normal goodbye cheek-kiss that morning.

	Tay curled himself around the little fox cub when Tom disturbed the stillness of the bed; reassuringly squeezed his little paw in enveloping fingers. Normally, Tom wouldn't have been comfortable with someone so physically close to him. Unless they were immediate family, and they were just giving him a quick hug, he did not want them inside his personal bubble that had materialized over the past few years. But now his guard was down, and the warmth and comfort from the adult at his back was too pleasant to shy away from. He sensed this was different than the hugs his parents gave him, too. It gave him an excited, fluttery feeling in his belly. The feeling extended down to the base of his sheath, and made him suddenly aware of his and Tay's near-nakedness. He felt his briefs stretched tight against his little boy-bits, cotton rubbing against his most tender skin each time he moved.

	“Uncle Tay?” Tom said groggily, then coughed and cleared his throat. “Am I spending the night with you?”

	Tay, spoke in a whisper, like he was still trying not to wake the cub. His muzzle was inches from the fox's ear, and the breath of his words pushed against its inner fur. “Yeah. Your mom called a few hours ago when you were sleeping. She said you can stay here until you're better, and ready to go back to school.”

	Tom nodded and was silent as he just hugged his uncle's arm close to his body, curling his knees up to his chest. He sensed that Tay was giving him extra special attention for some reason. And he liked it; he needed it now. He snuffled and snorted, trying to find Tay's scent in the air; his animal instincts commanded that he know it and remember it forever. But his nose was blocked – sharp sense of smell crippled for now – and after a few moments of trying he gasped and whimpered and gave up, his bottom eyelids pooling with tears of frustration which overflowed and soaked into his cheek-fur and pillowcase. He shut his eyes and drew in short, jerky breaths through his mouth, then scrunched his lips together to suppress his crying noises to a wobbling whine deep in his throat.

	“Still feeling pretty sick, huh?” Tom's ear swiveled toward Tay's deep voice, comforting and close.

	Tom took a few seconds to calm himself with long, slow breaths before he spoke, trying to mask the choked-up wavering in his voice with a tone of annoyance. He wanted to be a big boy for his uncle. “My stupid nose is stuffed up... and I have a headache.”

	“Poor foxie. Well – here – I can help with the headache, at least.” Tay nuzzled at the back of the fox's head and let go of his fist. The ferret moved that hand to Tom's forehead, touching with the same tenderness as when he tested the cub's temperature. Even the motionless contact of those cozy, warm pads and palm eased the pulsing pain a little.

	Tay snaked his free arm under Tom and picked him up in a warm hug, keeping both Tom and himself under the covers, while his hand began to rub back toward the fox's ears. Tay started the slow petting with his open hand, and each time his palm reached the base of a gray-furred ear, he curled his fingers around it and stroked outward toward the tip, tugging it backward as it slid smoothly under his fingers. His hand returned to Tom's forehead after each pet, letting the ear flick stiffly upward after his fingers slid off its end. Sometimes he stroked both ears together beneath his fingers; fully stretched out, his thumb and fingertips could easily span the distance to grasp each one at the same time and caress the pointy little ridges toward each other.

	The fox cub stayed perfectly still, his worn-out body just loosely flopped back against Tay's chest. He allowed himself to relax, completely at the will of his uncle's steady affection. He let out a short, squeaky groan, hypnotized by the pacifying sensations tickling his fur. They made his headache disappear, at least for now, and a smile spread across his face. His ears flicked and shuddered in response to the firm but smooth rubbing.

	Tay started to gradually work his claws into the strokes, tracing five little lines through head-fur with each one. Then he moved his paw down to Tom's face. He quickened his pace just slightly and shortened his hand motions, petting and scratching over the fox's stubby boy-muzzle: under his chin, through his twitchy whiskers, and over his cheeks which were damp from minutes-old tears.

	Tom squeaked with bliss, and his lips parted as he took slow, labored breaths, holding back his coughs as well as he could so he didn't break Tay's pace and ruin the moment. He nudged his face toward the semi-dull ferret claws so they dug down into his face fur. The rhythmic motions of Tay's fingers on the fox's cheek, along with the slow and regular breaths at the back of his neck, lulled him into a sleepy daze; paralyzed his mouth in an expression of drooling ecstasy.

	Before his consciousness faded, Tom felt Tay's whiskers graze the back of his neck, then ferret muzzle pressed delicately into his fur. His uncle's lips just lingered there for a few seconds, then the sound of a kiss broke the near-silence of their quiet breathing. The fox let his head roll backward and made the ferret's nose nestle up to his fur as pleasant tingling radiated down his spine. The fluttery feeling in his tummy was reawakened. That couldn't have been a regular, family kiss; it was too slow, and it lasted too long. Not that Tom would have known from previous experience, but he was sure that must have been how boyfriends and girlfriends were supposed to kiss each other.

	Tom considered turning himself around, lying face-to-face with his uncle, and kissing him right on the mouth. That's how it would have gone if he were in some kind of romantic story (unless he was totally mistaken about how those things went). With his eyes closed he played out the scene in his mind: what he wished he could make happen. He watched himself snuggled up to Tay's chest, their muzzles touching and noses bumping together, kissing each other repeatedly. Tom didn't consciously notice that an inch of naked pink stood out from his sheath as he fantasized, but he felt a pleasant warmth and pressure around his groin as his sharply-tapered canine tip prodded and curved and rubbed against the taut fabric of the underwear which cradled it. Tay just kept hugging and petting him, his muzzle nestled firmly against the back of Tom's neck. His nose drew in long breaths through the fox's fur. At least the ferret's sense of smell was working just fine now.

	Before Tom could even think about gathering the courage to make his private scene a reality, though, his thoughts became dreams. Tay's continued petting after the kiss had made sleepiness overwhelm the cub. His dreams initiated from that one perfect imagination, but quickly branched in other directions, and turned eventually into the same miserable dreams he'd endured the night before. Even with Tay protectively by his side all night, he was helpless and on his own against the evil germs inside him. Tom's mind – stuck in half-sleep for the first part of the night – was inundated with monotonous, tedious semi-dreams: dividing numbers in his head like he'd just learned in school, building a Lego castle following convoluted specifications. Stuff that required too much thought for restful sleep. Tom got hot and sweaty, and dampened the ferret at his back. But, after a few long hours, his brain was finally exhausted enough to calm down and let him fully rest. He slept peacefully from that point on; no more sick-dreams or waking.

––-

	Tom slept non-stop until early afternoon, and Tay wasn't in bed when he woke up. As the little fox slipped back into consciousness, he rolled from his side onto his back and took in a deep breath through his nose. He flicked his tail with joy at the realization that he could now breath through both nostrils. And he didn't even need tissues to clean them first. He rubbed the back of his hand across his dry nose, which he wiggled, too, removing dried remnants of runny fluids built up from sleep. Then he pressed his nose up to his stuffed bunny, smelling his own scent on it. He turned over to his pillow, and Tay's smell was there.

	The fox found that his other symptoms also were significantly reduced after his more than twelve hours of rest. He still felt a little weak and shaky, though, as he stretched out his arms and legs as far as they could reach, flexing his toes so their pads slid along a cold, untouched part of the bedsheet. A powerful urge to pee had built up in the cub overnight, so he rolled out of bed – Hopper in his arms – and dragged his little footpaws over to the bathroom to take care of it.

	Feeling energetic – at least moreso than yesterday – Tom didn't feel so wobbly on his legs as he stood and walked around. Didn't feel like settling back down for a nap, either. He finished peeing and decided he should tell his uncle he was up, maybe get him to set up the Xbox, and get some breakfast. But what he wanted most – more than games or food – was Tay's affection, just like last night: strong arms wrapped around him and protective warmth at his back, making the boy forget about his poor physical state. So he padded into the hall on thick carpet to look for Tay, and found him in the next room on his computer. Tom walked up to his desk and, as Tay turned to face him, the fox gave him a big smile and outstretched his arms for a hug. Tom had to stand up on his toes to reach. He wrapped his arms, as tightly as he could, around the ferret; stood pushed up to the side of his chair. The fox pressed his nose up to Tay's shirt sleeve and smelled clean laundry, then nudged the sleeve out of the way to sniff at Tay's bare fur. He breathed in the clean soap smell, buried his nose in deeper, then inhaled natural ferret scent: subtle, but intensely comforting.

	“Morning, foxie. You seem a lot better!” Tay spoke cheerfully, but seemed to hesitate just a moment before leaning into the little cub's embrace and slipping his closest arm around him; Tom was so forward with his affection now, compared to yesterday. The fox didn't notice the blush in his uncle's ears. “And your nose works now, huh?”

	“Uh-huh!” Tom stifled two tiny coughs against Tay's arm after his over-excited reply. “It mostly works. But I still feel kinda crappy, though.”

	“Well, let's get you something to eat, then.” Tay rotated his swivel chair so he faced the clinging fox, and picked him up as he stood. “And something warm to drink.” The ferret hefted his nephew up against his chest and supported the fox with one arm under his bottom, and one hugging around his middle.

	Now suspended in the air and chest-to-chest with his uncle, Tom let his body relax, and draped his arms loosely over Tay's shoulders while the ferret carried him into the kitchen. He let out a shaky sigh, just enjoying the adult's warmth against his body during their short trip.

	Tay set the fox down at the table, got him breakfast, and sat with Tom while he ate it. Tay asked him about friends and school, just catching up on what was going on in his life. They'd barely talked yesterday, since Tom was so out of it. Tom was glad to talk with his uncle, and that Tay was interested in what he said. He felt now like he should've been closer to Tay his whole life, when just a day before the fox cub couldn't've cared less.

	After the fox had his breakfast, Tay carried Tom back to his room, to his bed, and got him set up with the Xbox so he could play games. And from there, the day went about the same as did the previous one, though Tom was fully awake the whole time, and was engaged in games instead of just lying around. His tissue pile was much smaller, he was less sniffly, and he barely had to cough. Tay still checked in on him just as much as – if not more than – yesterday, and brought him meals to have in bed. But now he stayed while Tom ate; stayed to watch him play, too. Tom was usually lying on the bed on his belly, facing the TV as he played, when Tay came in. Tay sat down next to him each time, right up against him, comfortably close, and silently petted the fox while he watched. The ferret stroked his fingers in one continuous motion from Tom's head, down his neck and back, over his tail and bare legs to his feet where they stayed a few moments and massaged his pads; then back up to his head to start again. Tay moved his paw slowly, his speed consistent, so he didn't disturb the little fox too much. This treatment gave Tom pleasant shivers every time. It distracted him slightly from his games, but he didn't care; he loved it. He cuddled up to his uncle, eyes always on the screen, though blissfully unfocused.

	Whenever Tay left the cub alone, Tom's mind wandered eventually to what happened the night before, just before he'd fallen completely asleep. He'd felt so safe and cozy, but excited at the same time, and not just in his stomach. He remembered his little fantasy: how he wanted to kiss Tay. And he built upon that in his mind while he halfheartedly tapped and flicked at the Xbox controller with his fingers; imagined the two naked together, kissing and touching each other unrestricted. And the excitement in his groin returned each time he thought about it; he got erect, out of his sheath, and lazily rubbed the boy-sized pinkness against the inside of his briefs, not even fully realizing the pleasure was coming from friction on his penis. It was just a generally good feeling where his legs met, and it made him think about forbidden things involving his uncle. When Tay actually was with him during the day, though, he didn't have the courage to initiate any of that. Not even a kiss. Hugs and snuggles were all he could manage to comfortably start. So he just lay there and stuck with enjoying the petting.

	Over the course of the day, a plan was forming in the little fox's mind. It was one he knew was a little naughty, and it made his stomach fluttery each time he considered it. He decided that, sometime after dinner and before Tay came to bed for the night, he'd get naked and watch TV under the covers, waiting for Tay to get in bed with him like last night. He didn't know what he'd do after that, but he hoped something more might happen. Some kind of sex thing, whatever that was. Maybe Tay would sleep naked, too. Maybe Tay would initiate something just like what happened in his fantasy. Maybe Tom would even be able to do it himself, though he didn't even have a clear idea of what he was supposed to do. As he thought it over repeatedly in his head – what might go on when the ferret discovered his naked nephew – he squirmed against the bed, his little hard-on sliding over the fabric of his undies. He enjoyed that special new sensation he'd discovered.

––-

	Almost to Tom's surprise, he followed through with his own daring plan: some time after dinner, he turned off the Xbox and the bedroom light, switched the TV to some sitcom he was hardly interested in, slipped comfortably under the covers of his uncle's bed, and stripped down to nothing. The next time Tay came in, he sensed it was bed time for the fox, though it was a little early, and started to strip down to boxers, a t-shirt, and glasses. Even though Tay was still modestly covered, the almost-nude ferret made Tom shy.

	Tay shut off the TV, leaving the room calm and quiet. “Tired now? Wanna go to sleep?” He asked the fox, who drew the covers up tightly around his chin so no naked fur – besides on his face – was exposed.

	“Uh-huh.” Tom's voice was a little shaky – he was getting nervous – and he nodded. He considered backing out of his plan now, but it was too late; his clothes were in a pile on the floor at his left side, and Tay was circling around the opposite side of the bed, about to get in.

	Tay kept on talking, seemingly oblivious, as he sat down on the bed and patted Tom's head. The fox's heart was beating quickly, and he squirmed, ears folded back, just shyly grinning and trying to let himself relax.

	“Just so you know, I'm only letting you skip brushing your teeth 'cause you're sick. Your mom wouldn't want – ” Tay cut himself off as he slipped under the covers and saw the rest of the bare kit huddled there on his left. “Oh.” His eyes scanned Tom's body for a moment, open wide in amazement, then he recomposed himself. “You wanna sleep nakie, huh, foxie?” The ferret smiled and fluffed Tom's head-fur.

	Tom rolled onto his side to face his uncle, and brought his legs up to his chest so his sheath was hidden between his thighs, speaking almost in a whisper. “Is it okay?” He was feeling hot with embarrassment now, hoping he hadn't done something wrong. A cough came out of his throat and he covered his muzzle with a paw, then sniffled.

	“Of course! I like sleeping that way too, actually.” Tay's voice return to sounding casual. The ferret turned his head to face Tom, lying flat on his back while he slipped out of his boxers. Tom sighed with relief – he hadn't crossed any lines, and Tay even wanted to be naked with him – but he was still feeling uncertain. His curiosity was overwhelming, though, so he sneaked a peak at the ferret's sheath while Tay pulled his t-shirt over his head. Tay caught him staring at it a moment later, and that now-familiar excited feeling flickered in the boy's tummy. His eyes turned sheepishly upward to meet his uncle's gaze.

	“Come 'ere, silly boy.” Tay laughed softly as he spoke, and slipped his hands under the cub's arms, pulling him into a hug. Tom's legs uncurled and he stretched out on his side next to Tay, sort of propped up against him, lying his chin down on Tay's chest with his nearest arm across it. He wiggled his body into the big ferret's embrace as fingertips and claws started to stroke his back, all the way down to his bare bottom. The covers had been pushed to the foot of the bed by the movement of the two, and they lay there mostly exposed to the air, Tom feeling a little silly with his butt sticking up for Tay to see and touch. The fox could feel his uncle's heart beating fast, just like his own, but Tay seemed perfectly calm on the outside. He hoped the ferret was feeling the same excitement he was.

	Tom's apprehension and his tenseness gradually melted away as the petting from those comforting paws brought him back to the way he'd felt the night before. A shiver started at the back of his neck and traveled down his spine; ended at his tail, which he flicked back and forth. The fox tilted his head and rubbed his cheek into Tay's chest fluff, smiling up at him sideways and staring longingly. He wanted so badly to kiss his uncle now. It was the perfect moment for it: just like he'd imagined. Tom flicked his tongue over his lips, unknowingly raising his head up, eyes locked with the ferret's. Then his eyes and forehead scrunched with worry when he realized he'd give Tay his germs if they kissed. He slumped his chin back down onto Tay's chest, sighing and averting his eyes; he didn't want to spread his sickness. At least now he had a better excuse to back down; better than lack of bravery. His little fingers curled in Tay's fur, grasping gently at it, the let-down cub snuggling up closer.

	“It's okay, sweetie.” Tom's ears involuntarily perked and swiveled toward Tay's voice, and he felt Tay's closest hand move up to rest gently on the back of his head. The ferret's muzzle moved forward, toward the fox's, and Tom lifted his chin hopefully. He felt Tay's hot breath on his face-fur; Tay probably felt the same from him. The two bumped noses and brushed whiskers, and their lips pressed together. Tom kneaded at Tay's chest with his fingers, excitement building rapidly in his belly. He let out a few squeaky yips, unable to contain it. This was perfect. Exactly how it was supposed to happen. With his courage renewed, he gave his uncle a quick peck then pulled back to see its effect; to let the feeling sink in. But Tay's muzzle moved forward with Tom's and kept their lips interlocked, his hand guiding the fox back into a deeper kiss that made Tom's tail wag and thump against the bed. Tay moved his other hand to grasp the little fox paw resting on his chest: his fingers wrapped around it and gave it a light squeeze, and Tom curled a few fingers around the adult's thumb, squeezing it the same way. Tom felt a warm tongue flicker across his lips, making him shivery, and he let out a soft and muffled sound, somewhere between a squeak and a moan. He followed Tay's lead and stuck his tongue forward against the ferret's, and he lapped at it as Tay did the same. This was much more than he'd imagined, and much better. Almost overwhelmingly so. The cub's tongue slurped at Tay's and sloppily wet the fur around the ferret's lips too. Tay's tongue responded, licking firmly against Tom's.

	Tom's nose was halfway stuffed up, and he was running out of breath. He pulled away, decisively this time, and eased his eyelids open while he panted for air. Tay teased the fur on the back of the boy's neck as the kiss ended, then traced his claw-tips down to his back. A little strand of saliva stayed between their lips and Tom blushed as he jerked his head to the side to break it, then returned his gaze to Tay's eyes: bright and happy even in the semi-darkness, just like the fox's own. Tay grinned and stroked back and forth with his thumb over the undersides of Tom's fingers.

	“Wow.” Tay whispered the word just as quietly as his quickened breaths. “How was that?” The ferret asked as he rubbed noses with the fox, and his hand gently petted Tom's back.

	“Mmm. It was... awesome.” Tom nodded, pleased with his choice of word, a huge smile spreading across his face. For the moment, he'd forgotten to worry about passing on his germs.

	“It sure was.” Tay nodded, too. He stared into Tom's eyes, a warm smile on his face. “I've never kissed a cute boy before. You're very good at it.”

	“Naaah...” Tom turned his head away, smiling abashedly and clinging to his uncle with his closer arm. But the compliment boosted his confidence. And Tay said Tom was the first boy he'd kissed. Was he the only kid special enough for Tay to take such an interest in during all his 30 years?

	“Oh, I think so. Look.” Tay tilted his head in the direction of his crotch; lifted his index finger off Tom's hand to point down toward it, too. His pink shaft was hard and poking most of the way from its sheath, the tip hovering just above the ferret's belly. “That means you were doing it right.” Tay smiled knowingly at the cub and hugged him close.

	The curious fox turned quickly to see it and bit his lower lip to stifle excited giggles – then coughs; seeing the adult so shamelessly exposed made him giddy and not so timid. He became very aware of his own genitals, too, and the pleasure there when he moved around and rubbed them on Tay's leg-fur. Tay's male bits were so big, though, prominently displayed and begging to be explored: a pulsing six inches of pink flesh and two white-furred, heavy-looking orbs below.  He pressed his thighs together and squirmed up against the ferret. “I think maybe mine came out, too!”

	“I know it did, silly; I can feel it on my leg.” Tay patted the blushing fox's butt and gave him a gentle kiss on the nose. A burst of renewed giggling came out of the cub, and he nuzzled up under his uncle's chin, kissing him there a few times.

	Tom couldn't help but turn his stare back to Tay's erection. And he had to touch it; there was some kind of sexy feeling that had been urging him on since he first peeked, making his own groin area feel tingly and alert. So he slipped his hand out of the ferret's hold and slid his palm down Tay's tummy, little fingers outstretched; wrapped them around the very end of the ferret penis. Tay rumbled with a quiet groan and leaned forward a bit to kiss the top of the fox's head, showing Tom he undoubtedly approved. That naked pinkness looked different than Tom's – at least from what he'd seen when his own sometimes got hard and poked out while he was peeing. Tom slid a finger carefully over the little hook-like part – the fox didn't have one of those – that extended from the tip of Tay's length and curved back toward his belly. And he noted that the ferret didn't pee from the end of it; his urethra opened up before that part. He walked his fingers down the underside of the ferret's shaft – slender for an average adult, though Tom wouldn't know – and made it bob up and down under repeated prodding. When he got to the base, he wrapped his fingers around it and gave it a squeeze, eliciting a happy little moan from Tay and making his arm hug around the cub more tightly. Tom knew it must have felt good the way his did now; as the fox was playing with Tay, he'd started to rock his hips back and forth against the ferret's leg so his sensitive little pink tip was repeatedly grazed by Tay's fur. He didn't even fully realize he was doing it, but the pleasurable tingles were building up inside him, a warm glow around his crotch, and he started to whimper along with his uncle's noises, rubbing and massaging along the adult's erection.

	“Want me to make you feel good like that, too? With my hand?” Tay spoke softly, close to Tom's ear, and rested his hand gently – reluctantly – on the kit's to stop its caressing for a moment. He patted the small bit of exposed, white fox-tummy with his other hand and gave Tom a tight one-armed hug.

	The fox tilted his head back, looking at his uncle upside-down with a goofy, lustful grin on his face. He'd been mesmerized by the look and feel of the adult's genitals and the feelings from his own rhythmic humping, and it took him a moment to gather together some words. “Yeah, I wanna.”

	Tay pecked at a few places on Tom's muzzle, looking into his pleading eyes. “Okay, cute foxie.” He gave him a gentler kiss on the lips and the fox's eyelids fluttered shut for a moment. Tom heard Tay's voice again: “Gotta get on your back first.”

	Tom felt the ferret's fingers lightly tap the side of his tummy a few times: a cue to roll over. Panting fervently, speechless and excited, the fox released his grip on Tay and turned to his left, onto his back, nestled up against his uncle's shoulder, still cradled by his arm. He moaned when the exposed part of his little half-erection slipped away from Tay's leg and popped up into the open air, an inch of pink bared from his sheath. As the fox settled, Tay's hand stroked and teased his belly fur, fluffing it with his fingertips as he made his way down to the boy's groin; scratched through his pubic fur – short and thinly spaced – and beside Tom's sheath. He purposely avoided that tender fold of skin, though, tormenting the fox who fidgeted and whimpered, begging now with high-pitched whines for sexual stimulation. Tom rested his closest arm on Tay's belly and grasped his penis again, squeezing and petting it a little overzealously.

	“Please, can you touch me on my privates, too?” Tom blurted out, trying to urge the ferret on as politely as he could manage, though almost exasperated by Tay's evasive stroking, and totally forgetting his earlier shyness. He didn't understand that Tay's slow buildup to that part would be worth it; the fox-boy was already so worked-up.

	“Okay. Let's start out slow, though.” Tay's voice was deep and hushed. It calmed the fox down slightly, though his boyhood was still sensitive and needy. The ferret wrapped his free hand around Tom's – both hands around Tay's shaft – and they slowed down together, Tay's guiding Tom's slowly along, up and down. His other hand moved to Tom's inner thigh, claws dragging up toward his crotch until they met his sac, tight and compact. His palm opened to cup it along with his sheath. His claws tickled its short fur, made it stand on end, traced over little wrinkles in the tender, pink skin only partially obscured by fur. For a few moments, Tay stroked the boy's bits all together with slow motions: squeezing and releasing, making the cub's balls scrunch upward then bounce back down.

	The fox's tail swished side to side over the bed and he gradually eased his legs farther apart, leaving his boy parts open for his uncle to explore. His toes twitched and flexed, and his right leg jerked, in response to Tay's hand. Tay's fingertips stimulated the fox's knot deep down near the base of his sheath, making it grow until there was a visible bulge. The ferret wrapped a couple of fingers – as many as he could fit on the short length – around the boy's sheath and rubbed it along his stiffness. Over and over he slid it up to cover the tip then back down, and Tom watched his little shaft poke out each time. Tom's knot slipped out eventually, all pink and shiny, trapping his sheath behind it. The kit whimpered and rolled just slightly toward Tay, pressed his thighs together, squirming with pleasure and unable to keep his little self still. He'd never had his knot out like that before, and it felt so weird when his sheath was pulled behind it. It stretched the opening of his fuzzy covering more than he'd thought possible; didn't feel painful, though. He nuzzled his cheek right up to Tay's chest while looking down between his own legs, staring while the ferret's hand wrapped around his now fully-hard boy-flesh.

	The lusty haze was removed for a moment from Tom's mind as he watched, wide-eyed. And it occurred to him how bad and naughty the two were being with each other. At least, that's how the other adults in his life would see it, considering how his parents and teachers warned him from time to time about the danger of other people touching his private parts; a warning he never understood. But they never told him it would be like this, and Tom wondered how someone touching between his legs could ever feel bad. Tay's loving hands made him feel good everywhere: relaxed, peaceful; excited, playful.

	Tom pushed the thoughts of everyone but his uncle out of his mind for now. They were confusing, didn't make him feel good, and he was not in the best mental state to consider them. Tay's hand was moving faster over the moist and reddened fox-shaft, his up-and-down strokes short; the fingers wrapped around Tom's boyhood spanned the few inches from knot to tip, anyway. Pleasurable feelings were overtaking the fox, intensifying and concentrating along his entire penis, and he shut his eyes tightly. It escalated into something he couldn't control anymore; felt like the stimulation had tipped him over the edge, and something unstoppable was going to come out of him. He hoped it wouldn't be pee. He squirmed and kicked, flexing his fingers then curling them back around Tay's shaft, giving it slow and uneven strokes. Tom moaned after every sharp, gasping breath, volume and pitch increasing with each, in warning to Tay of what might be coming. It only invited the ferret's hand to pump faster, though: fast enough now that it seemed like a vibration on the boy's knot. A rush of warm tingles washed over Tom, reaching all the way to the tips of his ears; made his body tense up and shudder, and made his head feel disoriented and lost in the sudden euphoria. Tom turned his head toward his uncle and put his face against his chest fur, mouth gaping and drooling with a low, drawn-out groan. His thighs squeezed together and he thrust his pulsing stiffness into Tay's palm, his own hand just gripping the ferret's shaft, forgetting to move as he focused only – selfishly – on his own pleasure.

	“Oh, such a good boy... good  foxie...” Tay cooed encouraging words into Tom's ear, pausing to give him kisses on top of his head, milking his little erection as the kit rode out his very first orgasm: completely fluidless at his age. Tom's excitement subsided after a few moments and left him feeling so calm and snuggly-warm. He didn't know what to say, so he just curled up next to his uncle, lay there motionless, and panted: quick shaky breaths, sucking back some of the saliva he'd left in the ferret's fur. He opened his eyes, the exhausted cub trying to keep conscious for Tay. His uncle's stroking had slowed and stopped at just the right time, and his palm was now patting the fox's back-fur. Tom's hand had stopped, too, moving to Tay's belly-fur to rest; he felt no responsibility to take care of Tay's needs, though he wanted his uncle to feel the way he did now. Then they could fall asleep together, and it would be perfect; even better than last night.

	“How was that? Feel nice?” Tay's calmingly quiet and close voice made Tom shiver, and made his fur stand up, every strand seeming extra sensitive in his afterglow.

	Tom let out a soft and squeaky moan as he opened his mouth, then nodded. “Uh-huh.” The kit was physically drained from the combined exhaustion of sexual exertion and his cold, and his body shook as he pushed himself closer to Tay. “That was just – it made me so tired – it was just the best! Can you do it, too? An' then we – an' then let's go to sleep. And we can hug.” As the fox-boy rambled, he nuzzled his cheek lazily against Tay's shoulder, trying to rub the sleepiness away; grasped at the ferret's belly fur and let it slip through his fingers. His nose had gotten temporarily unstuffed during the peak of his pleasure, so while his uncle replied the cub snuffled contently through Tay's neck-fur with a grin across his muzzle.

	“Mmm... yep, I can.” The ferret turned his head so his gaze met the fox's, muzzles brushing and whiskers intermingling for a moment, and he gave him a smile showing off ferret fangs, then pressed his lips to the black fox nose for a kiss. “Watch; I'll do it now.” Tay gave a single subtle downward nod, toward where his hand was already playing with his own erect pinkness.

	Tom reoriented his head so his cheek was resting high on Tay's chest, under his chin. He had a direct view while Tay coated his length in pre-cum, spreading it all over with his finger-pads, replenishing his shaft's wetness from a source unknown to the fox. Tom's eyes were fixed on it, staring as the ferret made it shiny. Tay stroked, and his pace increased quickly since he wasn't working from a cold start; Tom's inexperienced playing had gotten him close enough that he could make the rest fast. He held Tom with his closest arm while he traced the fox's curves with his claw-tips: he scratched delicately over Tom's side, dipping down at his tummy, then back up at his hips and bare bottom, claws raking through the fur and making pleasing tingles emanate from their points of contact. Tay nosed through Tom's head-fur, taking in short breaths, which tickled that fur too. When he sensed his uncle was getting close – Tay had started breathing faster, huffing and groaning, squirming and holding his nephew firmly close – Tom wrapped his arm around Tay and hugged him tight, eyes still locked on the ferret's glistening shaft, partially obscured by the hand-paw jerking over it, almost a blur. Tom's head recoiled back a bit in surprise when the first spurt of white fluid came out and spattered across his arm. But he kept clinging to Tay, ears and eyebrows perked with curiosity, watching the rest jet out to land on the ferret's tummy, feeling the hot strand of sticky fluid settle into his own fur.

	When Tay finished after a few moments he laughed and kissed Tom's head. “Oops. I got you, huh?”

	The fox held onto his uncle's now-relaxed body, his head rising and falling with Tay's breathing. “Yeah. But, what is that stuff?” Tom wasn't yet sure if he was supposed to think it was gross, or if it was okay. He felt inclined to like it. It was like Tay marked him with it; like pee, but not as wet.

	“It's called 'semen.' It – well – it's how babies are made. If it goes inside a woman, it can make her pregnant with a baby. But it's also kind of fun besides that.” Tom's brow furrowed as he considered this explanation, struggling with the connection to babies. But he accepted it, with a very vague idea in his mind.

	“Oh. Is it like pee?” Tom poked at the sticky fur on his arm, a thin strand sticking to his finger-pad, and he shook that off.

	“Not quite. It just comes out of the same place. Here – let me clean it off.” Tay grabbed the fox's arm with his clean hand – his other was sticky – and Tom raised it, letting Tay guide it toward the ferret's face. He couldn't see it, but he felt the ferret's tongue flit across his messy fur, then lap deeper through it, giving a thorough washing.

 	Tom couldn't help giggling. “You can eat it?” He rolled onto his belly so he was face-to-face with Tay, licking his lips and wondering about the taste.

	“Uh-huh. I actually kind of like it.” Tay brought his sticky hand up in front of the boy's muzzle, offering it and cocking his head. “Wanna try?”

	The fox gave two quick nods, with a sheepish and closed-lipped smile. “Mm-hmm.” He leaned forward, folded back his ears, and stuck out his tongue, tentatively flicking it over a white glob that had dripped onto Tay's thumb and stayed in his fur. The cub probably wouldn't have liked it, had he been able to fully taste, but all that he detected now was a mild saltiness. His tail wagged and he licked his lips, then gave Tay a grin, showing off his teeth. “It's okay.”

	Tay gave Tom a quick kiss on the lips, then: “You wanna lick it off my tummy?”

	The fox was tempted, but he didn't think he could stand keeping himself awake any longer. His eyelids were drooping, and he was having a hard time keeping them open. Maybe he'd do that another time. “Uh-uh. We have to go to sleep now.” He finally let his eyes shut, and dropped his head down onto Tay's shoulder.

	“Good idea. I'm very sleepy, now, too.” Tay reached for his shirt and used it to dab himself as clean as he could, though his fur stayed matted and damp. He pulled the covers over the two of them and curled up on his side, keeping Tom's arm around him.

	Tom was fading, clinging to his uncle's warmth, with Tay's every sound and movement lulling him nearer to sleep. The fox kit felt Tay slip his stuffed bunny between the two of them, so Tom could cradle it in his free arm which was curled beneath him.

	Only half-conscious, Tom heard Tay's voice beside his ear, making his fur warm and tingly. “Do you feel like you can go to school tomorrow?”

	“I think... maybe.” Tom's voice was muffled in Tay's fur, against the ferret's arm where his muzzle was nestled.

	“I'll get you up early enough, and you can decide then.” Tay embraced his nephew in both arms; gave him a kiss on the forehead, lips pressing softly and barely making a noise. “Night-night, baby boy.”

	“Night-night, Uncle Tay.” He gave the ferret a weak little squeeze with his arm; it was all he could manage. Almost immediately, the tired kit fell asleep to the sounds of Tay breathing and the feeling of claws brushing over the fur on the back of his neck.