Pashalk watched as steam rose off the hot pool in the center of the room. He didn't consider himself to be neglecting his duties. After all, he wasn't really anything more than decoration around Daria's Temple. He opened jars the priestesses couldn't and occasionally grabbed something from a top shelf. Despite his physical attractiveness, he didn't often get called into sexual service by the goddess or her children.

He let out a soft sigh as he shifted position slightly. He was lying on his stomach across a stone platform at the edge of the room. The room was warm enough that he'd discarded his clothing hours before and no one had wandered into the room since he'd been there.

Of course, that may have had something to do with the fact that there were less than a dozen men living in the Temple and more than fifty women. The men's bathing room was rarely occupied during the day, leaving Pashalk alone with his thoughts.

He found himself thinking about taking a sabbatical from the Temple. Though he was bound to it, he hoped the goddess would grant him a period to go out into the world. It had been four hundred years since he had been bound to the Temple and the goddess, surely he should be allowed a chance to visit his old hometown and lay flowers on his mother's grave.

Stretching, Pashalk moved his body so that he was sitting upright. The thick towels beneath him kept him from feeling the hardness of the stone below, but keeping the same position was wearing on him nonetheless. He was restless more than anything.

A moment later he found himself staring up at the ceiling, unconsciously sprawled on his back and getting lured into a relaxed state. He could no longer watch the steam rising and after several minutes he was finding himself being pulled towards sleep.

It wasn't like anyone would bother punishing him for spending the day as he was. There were no festivals to prepare for and he had no desire to assist the priestesses with simple spells or sewing. And he definitely didn't feel like helping any of the 'warriors' with their grisly tasks. As many times as he'd assisted with gathering the souls of the dead, he could never get used to the expressions of the recently deceased when they saw a member of the Army of Death standing beside them.

"Seems we have similar ideas, young one."

Pashalk sat up quickly at the voice. He had been in the void between consciousness and sleep and hadn't heard the door open.

Once he realized who had spoken to him, he realized that perhaps the door wouldn't have mattered. The Temple mage, Jameson, stood beside him. Pashalk didn't know exactly how many millennia the mage could look back upon, but it was long enough that his skill matched that of the goddess herself. In truth, Pashalk didn't know why the mage remained in servitude, forced to teach basic magic to the priestesses who would eventually grow to become soul harvesters.

"Jameson," Pashalk said slowly, looking over the mage with eyes wide.

"Surely after so many centuries, my body is nothing new," Jameson replied, watching Pashalk curiously.

Pashalk shook his head. In truth, he was so much more used to seeing the mage's human form, not the Animan form that the mage had been born into. For some reason, Pashalk had always thought Jameson changed into his human form when he left his private quarters.

But the naked anthropomorphic fox standing in front of him told otherwise.

"Lately you've been using your human form to move about the Temple," Pashalk said once he could find the words to speak. Without clothing it was hard to hide his arousal at Jameson's body. It had been decades, at the least, since he last found himself in the bed of the fox, though that experience had been enjoyable, to say the least.

In the Temple, time passed in a way that a century would be marked only by the coming and going of priestesses and warriors. Those who were bound to the Temple did not count days.

"Why waste energy?" Jameson said. "Besides, I do need to wash myself in this form on occasion. I wouldn't want to attract flies during a lesson with those incompetent new priestesses."

"You say that about every group of them," Pashalk replied quickly, trying to look at Jameson's face and not lower.

"Bathe with me," Jameson said after a moment. Without waiting for Pashalk's response, he turned and stepped toward the pool. Pashalk found himself captivated by the red fur of the other man. He'd seen enough Animen before, of all sorts, but the red and creamy white of Jameson's body held him transfixed.

"I..."

"What?" Jameson questioned, turning back with one foot on the stairs into the water. "You aren't doing anything more important, are you?"

"No!" Pashalk replied, looking around to double check that they were alone. "I'd just been thinking..."

"That will get you into trouble here," Jameson said with a smirk before descending further into the pool.

With a sigh, Pashalk followed the fox into the water, barely resisting the child-like urge to grab at his bushy tail before it became waterlogged.

For a moment Pashalk cursed not binding his hair to the top of his head. As gorgeous as his long silver-white hair looked floating on the surface of the water, it would tangle in seconds. A glance at Jameson reminded him that the fox kept his own red hair in tight braids that hung down his back.

Neither spoke until they were both submerged in the warm water and standing only a couple feet apart.

"You look at me with a lust I rarely see," Jameson said after a moment.

Pashalk nodded. Usually the mage came off as a rude and arrogant man who cared little for his students and even less for the other inhabitants of the Temple. It was after a few hundred years that he became tolerable, when it was understood just why Jameson acted the way he did.

Still, it didn't much matter at present, not with Jameson closing the distance between them and bringing a barely-furred hand up to rest on Pashalk's shoulder.

"Pashalk?"

"What?"

"Do you want me to change? I can if you..."

Pashalk quickly shook his head and silenced Jameson with an awkward kiss that somehow felt much over-due. It wasn't that the attraction between them stemmed beyond anything physical or friendly - Pashalk already knew that Jameson had absolutely no interest in a romantic relationship with anyone. It made the whole situation easier.

As his hands slid over Jameson's body and dipped beneath the water level, Pashalk couldn't help but wonder if this wasn't just a way to fight boredom. Even if it was, it was delicious.

Both were fully aroused by the time Jameson pulled Pashalk back out of the water and pushed him against one of the cool stone walls. The temperature difference caused Pashalk to hiss, but still he clung to Jameson, lost in pleasure and willing to let the mage do as he wanted.

Through a complicated but quick maneuver, Pashalk found himself pinned between the wall and Jameson's damp body. His legs were up around Jameson's waist and he could feel the mage's thick arousal pushing gently against his bottom. Still, Jameson was wasting time with nips and kisses.

It all made sense once Pashalk felt one of Jameson's fingers trace his opening. The digit was coated in something slick and vaguely sweet smelling - Pashalk couldn't tell if it was somethinng summoned from across the room or if was the product of a quick and silent spell.

Either way, the fingers now impaling his body caused him to arch and rock in the small amount of space allotted to him. Jameson's name was on his lips but he didn't realize he was actually crying out until Jameson licked the lobe of Pashalk's ear and whispered a quick reassurance.

No sooner were the words out of Jameson's mouth than the mage shifted just enough so he could guide his erection into Pashalk's body. The first thrust was awkward, their bodies both arching wildly. The motion ending up pulling Pashalk's silvery hair hard against the wall, causing him to grab wildly at Jameson's fur.

Luckily Jameson understood the meaning behind the action and quickly shifted them both, pulling Pashalk's hair forward so it pooled in the tight space between their bodies. Once each seemed to be comfortable with both the position and the penetration, Jameson continued sliding himself fully into Pashalk.

"More," Pashalk whispered as he clung onto Jameson's shoulders. He'd had his eyes closed but slowly he opened them. Jameson's deep blue gaze met his, and he wondered briefly what the mage was thinking.

The question was answered soon enough Jameson moved ever so slightly but in such a way that hit something deep inside Pashalk. With a smirk, Jameson repeated the action a couple more times until Pashalk was howling with pleasure and grabbing blindly at Jameson's fur and braids. Only a few seconds later, Pashalk let out an echoing cry and gave over to the electric pleasure he'd almost forgot existed. His own arousal was trapped between his body and Jameson's and the tips of his hair were tickling across the head, ignored by them both. But still, he needed no further stimulation as one slight thrust from Jameson brought forth an intense orgasm.

Pashalk was still shaking in ecstasy as Jameson sped up his thrusts, no longer worried about any pleasure but his own. Still, he held Pashalk close, letting the silver-haired man cling to him as he moved. Pashalk felt absolutely lost and happy at the same time. He'd needed the all-encompassing feeling that Jameson had given him, was giving him.

They both cried out as Jameson found his release, and together they slid to the floor, neither much minding the cool stone against their naked bodies.

"We'll have to bathe again," Pashalk said as soon as he could do more than mumble praises.

"If Sannal will be so kind as to share the pool with us," Jameson replied.

"What?" Pashalk was up on his elbows and knees in less than a second. Sure enough, Sannal was lounging in the steaming pool, his dark hair pulled up into a knot on the top of his head.

"I'd come to look for you," Sannal said a moment after his presence was acknowledged. "You should come to me next time you need a change of pace. Still, it was a nice show."

Pashalk blushed, something he'd almost forgotten his immortal body was capable of.

"Go on, Pashalk," Jameson said after a moment. "I lay no claim to you."

"True," Pashalk replied, looking at Sannal and wondering why suddenly the goddess was smiling upon him.