This is a short work of erotic fiction containing furry, or anthropomorphic, characters, which are animals that either demonstrate human intelligence or walk on two legs, for the purposes of these tales. It is a thriving and growing fandom in which creators are prevalent in art and writing especially.
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A Milky Present
Sometimes the temptation is just a little bit too great.
The white wolf blinked awake and sat upright, her lovers slumbering beside her. The digital clock with glowing, blue digits on the nightstand called the hour not even midnight on the eve of Christmas, but she could not rest. Alas, sleep was not always something that came easily to Yinx with one thought after the other racing through her mind at the worst times, leaving her tired through the day and aching for the bliss of rest that never quite seemed to be enough.
Slipping from the bed with the stealth of a robber, she held her breath as the mattress creaked - a massive one that allowed all three of them to sleep comfortably, expensive but oh so very worth it - Yinx held her paws to her chest, an oversized T-shirt serving as her sleepwear. Although her mouse rolled over, neither of her lovers rose and she exhaled slowly, tiptoeing from the bedroom on hind paws that fell with the lightness of a downy feather.
Once out, the wolf trotted down the stairs two at a time, tongue lolling out happily as her lips stretched into a languid grin. One, two, three - jump to avoid the creaky one - and she sticks the landing! Laughing softly at herself, she bounced into the living room, bare paws trotting from floorboards to carpet; she sighed as her toes sank into the plush surface and relished in wriggling them, short claws catching slightly in the fibres.
The Christmas tree beckoned in the corner, still lit up with a myriad of lights, all draped haphazardly and yet lovingly over its branches, tinsel and baubles strewn up as if in a fit of delirium. It wasn't standard and yet it was perfect and what was even more perfect was the pile of presents stacked beneath its spread branches. Wrapped up in brightly coloured, childishly pleasing paper, they sang a song of days gone by and times in life that were awkward and joyful: family Christmases that were both longed for and yet endured at the same time.
As much of a tradition as anything else, Christmas had never been destined to be a perfectly smooth and tranquil time of year, but she pushed the thought from her mind. No time for that! In the still of the night, the time was hers and, irrefutably, hers alone.
The Christmas tree lights twinkled off the pink of her ears and she chuckled lightly to herself as she sprung across the carpet, wolfish glee taking over. Who was there to see her? And what sense of decorum did she have to keep when she was alone?
None at all, of course!
And that was liberating too sometimes. They'd scold her, the mouse and dragon, the next morning for being too eager to open her presents, but a little childish joy never did anyone any harm. Plopping down onto her knees, she shimmied the mauve, faded T-shirt up her thighs some and reached for one wrapped in pink paper. Not usually one she would have gone for, it had clearly been wrapped by someone who saw it as a chore, but her scrawled name on the side lured her in. Her pulse fluttered at the side of her throat and the wolf's lips parted, the tip of her tail wagging ever so gently back and forth. It didn't have a sender marked on it and there was no way it had come from either of her sweet-hearted lovers. If they didn't pay for someone else to pack their gifts for them, their attempt at an idealistic sense of neatness would have been sharply evident!
Just the one. One wouldn't do any harm.
