Vincent sighed as the next episode paused, asking if he was still there before continuing. If the question wasn't the perfect indication of how his day was going, then he didn't know what was. Sad fact of the matter was, in his dorm room he sat, on Thanksgiving, completely and utterly alone.

When he came to the school in the middle of nowhere, he had a feeling that Thanksgivings would be tough and his break was so short that, honestly, it wasn't worth it for him to try and get home to family on the other side of the country. Outside, the wind whipped and beat through the trees. It certainly was par for the course in Iowa.

Sure, Vincent had offers to go with a couple friends for Thanksgiving but honestly hearing about it made him anxious. He was, of course, grateful for the offer and appreciated the thought, but he also didn't want to be out of place—something being a visitor for the holidays made you. So, he opted to stay around, citing work or school as a reason and hoping his friends would let him get away with that. Flimsy excuse though it was.

The bull's stomach growled in irritation, demanding to be fed.

“Alright, alright," he told it. “I'll feed you." His hand grabbed his phone and punched in the numbers. What Vincent only recently discovered was that his favorite pizza place in town was open for Thanksgiving. Why? He wasn't entirely sure, but they delivered and that was good enough for him.

“Mama Rosa's Pizza, how may I help you?" Said a cheery, bubbly voice.

“Hi, I wanted to place an order for a large pepperoni and sausage pizza."

“Sure thing," chipped the bubbly voice, “Anything else?"

Vincent couldn't help but fantasize who that voice belonged to. He could just barely see a shape, an outline of her face, her body. But nothing clear, nothing specific. Her words seemed like honey, sliding into his ears, pushing forward and engulfing his mind with their gentle, but happy tones.

“Uh, 2-Liter of Coke? And can I have it delivered to Lawrence Hall, room 525. Uh, please?"

The voice giggled at his last-minute remembrance of manners. “Of course, sir. I'll need you to unlock the door for me though."

He nodded, and then realized how stupid a thing that was to do. “Right, of course."

“It'll be about 20 minutes or so. I'll call this number back when I'm there."

“Alright, thank you very much," Vincent sputtered out, his mind drifting ofso quickly.

“No problem, sir." And with that, the phone clicked.

Vincent looked around the room, suddenly nervous. His clothes were strewn about everywhere, there were boxes from previous meals that he'd never gotten around to tossing and papers from class hiding his desk from view.

“Shit," he griped and went to work. His clothes, he quickly and unceremoniously tossed into his laundry hamper. He grabbed the boxes, shoved them in the trashcan and took off for the trash room on his floor. He barged back into the room moments later and looked at his meager kingdom. It seemed much better now, but what of him?

He looked at himself in the mirror and sighed.

His fur was matted in a couple places from sleeping on it funny and, he could tell from his own nose, he smelled like sweat and the cleaning solutions that he used at work. The bull looked at his clock. He'd have enough time to rinse off in the shower if he hurried. For good measure though, he grabbed his phone with his towel, and went off to the bathroom.

His fingers trailed down the buttons to his shirt and pulled it off, quickly losing his pants as well. Vincent's hooves clacked on the tile of the bathroom when he set bare leg onto the floor. Turning on the water, he stepped in.

Vincent was naturally large, as typical with bulls, but he made a concerted effort to keep himself in good shape. His chest was wide and strong and despite his flat stomach lacking in any sense of definition, he wasn't weak. The bull knew what his strengths were, and he played them up.

The water soaked through his fur, washing away the grime and dreariness he felt that day. It soothed him, and if he wasn't in a hurry, he might have opted to just let himself revel in the water for a while, but he needed to open the door so he could get his food and…

And what? Seduce the voice on the phone? Vincent shook his head, annoyed with himself for getting this swept up in things. It wouldn't be the voice on the phone answering, it would be someone else, one of the usual people, no one to impress. Not her. He sighed his disappoint out through his nose and rubbed his face with a large hand.

“Whatever. I needed to do all of that anyway," he grumbled, turning the water off and stepping out. He grabbed the towel and ran it through his fur vigorously, swiping the water off of himself and leaving him more or less dry.

The walk back to his room was more subdued, he wasn't as excited as he was a moment ago. There wasn't a real reason to have done everything he just did. So why did he do it? Why was he so determined to impress the voice?

Vincent was embarrassed by how lonely he really was.

But still, he hung his towel up on the hook he'd affixed to the wall and surveyed the room. There was a smell—the concentrated smell of him and he knew that regardless of who delivered the pizza, he had to open a window. It was when the cool air of the outdoors rushed in through the open window that he saw a familiar otter holding a pizza warmer and marching with a purpose. He looked her over; his eyes looking at her lithe body and plain face that could almost be overlooked in a crowd. It was the way that rudder seemed to almost be wagging as her hips sashayed with each step that paid attention to. She looked up at him and smiled. Before that smile, he thought her somewhat plain, though very pretty to be sure. But that smile was something else. He grinned back at her and waved. She stopped and looked up at him.

“Are you the person who ordered this?" she gestured to the pizza.

He nodded his head sheepishly.

“Toss me your ID so I can get in then. I'll take it right up there to you."

Vincent didn't think anything of it. He grabbed the lanyard with his ID attached and pulled his it off, and tossed it down to her. She caught it with ease, grinning up at him.

“Pizza's on the way, handsome," she called before setting off again.

Vincent tried to swallow but found himself unable to around the lump in his throat. Here was this pretty otter on his way to his room and he was… happier than he should have been, perhaps. But who could blame him? He hadn't seen anyone at all today and all his friends were too busy with family to talk to him.

The knock on the door shook him from his thoughts.

He opened it and there was the bubbly, petite otter. He smiled at her, eyes meeting eyes.

“Hey, handsome," the otter said, her rudder swaying in such a way that made it impossible for him not to notice. “Where do you want me to put this?"

He gestured to the desk he'd cleared off and she set it down. She stood around somewhat awkwardly with a brow furrowed in concentration, until she straightened and fetched the 2-Liter from her messenger bag.

“So you're all alone tonight?" she said, setting the bottle down beside the box.

“Yeah," Vincent said, throat feeling dry as the otter sat down on his bed, looking at him with kind eyes. “My family's far away and all my friends are gone. What about you? Why are you working on Thanksgiving?"

She smirked at that, and pulled her work hat off, scratching her head with dull claws. “Oh, I'm Canadian. Thanksgiving for us was a month ago."

Vincent laughed at that, smiling before he sat down on the dorm's provided, and rather uncomfortable, chair. His large frame shrunk slightly, as he leaned in closer to the otter.

“That would explain that. But still, you're working on Thanksgiving?" He prodded.

“Yeah, my parents run the place and they thought it might be a good idea to try and get the stragglers' business. Not sure if it's working or not," the otter grinned.

“Well, I ordered, didn't I?"

“That you did. But, my shift's over now. So I'm free to do as I please." Silence permeated every inch of space between them. “Do you want some company?"

Color filled Vincent's mottled face. “Well, if you're offering, yeah. But don't let me keep you."

“Nah, you're fine. We were planning on closing up anyway. It's a slow day, after all." She extended a hand at him. “I'm Mary, by the way, in case you don't remember."

Vincent looked at her with a cocked head and took her paw in his. “You say that like I could have possibly forgotten you. Just because I was dating Jenny doesn't mean I was blind."

The otter's cheeks pinked until done and she looked down. “Yeah well… Did you know that my parents like you? You're good business. Bring your friends by and tip well, yeah? I think you're half the reason we stayed open today."

Vincent wasn't surprised her parents had liked her, he always got that impression, but getting that kind of praise behind his back made him feel almost giddy. And she seemed to like him too, for what that was worth.

“Yeah. I mean, it's good pizza. Though, I imagine you're tired of it by now." He pointed to the box. “Would you like a slice? I mean, I might as well offer you something, right?"

Mary nodded and pulled her sweater off. Beneath she wore a flour-splattered work shirt that rose with her arms and Vincent could now not help but see the same marks on her pants. Or the muddy brown of her stomach.

Her eyes saw where his went and she blushed a bit. “Oh. I may make your room smell a bit like flour. I've got an extra pair of clothes in my bag, actually. I can change if you don't want me stinking up the place."

More color flooded Vincent's face and he merely shrugged. “I-if you want."

Mary stood up and took a step toward him, hovering over his muzzle to grab a slice of the pizza she'd made and took a bite. From where he was, Vincent could smell the floor, her sweat and her deodorant all mixed together. There wasn't anything about that combination that the bull didn't like. She giggled and picked up one of his plates, plopping the slice down and reclaiming her spot on his bed.

Vincent grabbed a piece himself, and took a bite. When he looked at Mary again, he noticed that she was pulling her shirt off and the bite sat there on his tongue; a lump in his mouth to compliment the lump in his throat. The lutrine's muddy brown fur looked soft and inviting as if it were made to be luxuriated in, and adored even. Her bra was black and had the tiniest spot of lace at the top, letting him see just a bit more of her figure. She caught him gawking and this time, it was her turn to blush.

“Like the view?" she asked, not even bothering to cover up.

“Do I have a pulse?" he asked. She giggled and turned her head away, still blushing. “I mean, you're not exactly hideous."

She snorted at that, plucking off a piece of sausage from her pizza and tossing it at him. He caught it between his teeth and chewed on it. “Way to compliment a lady. I wonder if lines like that help get you laid."

“I have you on my bed with your shirt off, don't I?" He smirked but it was quickly removed when she pelted him with her flour-coated shirt. It hung from his horn, caught by the sleeve.

“Hand me my bag," she told him. She took another bite and undid the button to her jeans, sliding them down.

“Not much for shyness, are you?" Vincent offered, holding the strap of her bag out for her.

The otter took her bag and pulled out a new shirt, sliding it on over her head. She looked him in the eyes and winked. “Oh, like you don't enjoy it. Besides, if you tried anything, I'd have you on the floor before you could even get your pants off."

Vincent only snorted at that, and looked away when she stood to remove her pants. A moment later, she was in a new, clean pair. She sat cross-legged on his bed and kept munching. And even more than before, the bull wanted to hold her against him.

“You took self-defense classes, I take it?"

She nodded her head. “Yeah, I know how to take care of myself, but Jenny told me plenty about you. I know you're not that type."

Jenny was Vincent's ex. She was always telling him to be bold, to stand up for himself more. It was only after the breakup he seemed to listen. “Yeah, I guess she's right. I mean, I know I'm not exactly the forceful type." Though, he wasn't afraid in standing up for himself. Not anymore, at least.

Mary polished off her piece and moved to sit down on Vincent's lap. Her butt rested on his thighs and he bristled for a moment; unsure of what this beautiful otter he'd only ever seen around his ex would do to him.

“I don't think that's necessarily bad. And I do know that what she did to you was no fair at all. I'm still not happy with that."

The sight of the Dalmatian being mounted by a horse was a memory that always made his stomach lurch. “Yeah, well. I should have tended her needs better."

Mary ran her hand down his horn to his scalp; she brushed a finger through the fur, not letting it distract her from her meal. “Yeah, but cheating wasn't fair to you. If she had problems, she should have said something." There was a silence that hung in the air for a moment before she added. “Besides, I bet you could tend to anyone's needs you chose to."

He nodded and found himself wanting to press the otter closer to him, to taste her, feel her, enjoy her body on his and bask in the sensations of her. Something about the otter was drawing him to her. She wasn't stunning, or the hottest person ever, but she seemed… genuine. A rarity if ever he saw one at this school. He hated how fast he felt his crush on her transforming though. There was no way she was interested in him. She just was keeping him company. Nothing more. A kindness, not flirtation. Still though, she did strip and sat on his lap. She clearly felt comfortable around him.

“So, what are your plans for tonight?" he asked her, his paw rubbing against her back under the guise of supporting her so she didn't fall.

“Oh, not a whole lot, really. As you said, most people are off doing something."

“Well, if you want," Vincent swallowed, “You can stay with me for a while. We can pop in a movie."

“Netflix and Chill?" she offered him with a sly smile.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “I just thought we could spend time together. Idontknowyourereallycute," he rattled off that last part like it was nothing more than an afterthought. Or stating a fact

The otter smiled and leaned down to give his nose a soft peck.

“Pop in something, good. If you have Empire Strikes Back, I'd love to see that."

Given that the bull had the posters of the original trilogy and a countdown to the new film hanging up; it was obvious that he would have it. While she slid off of his lap and plopped onto his bed, he set the film up and brought the pizza box and 2-Liter over to the bed.

“Just keep your hands out of my pants," Mary ordered him, her eyes glinting playfully.

Vincent looked at her and waved a hand in front of her face. “You will remove your pants for me."

She snickered and stuck her tongue out. “Already did that, remember?"

Vincent could already tell this would be a much better day than he thought.

***

The credits began as the score blared through his TV. The otter lay on the bull's chest. His horns scraped and poked at his walls, a fine he'd likely be faced with at the end of the year. But he didn't worry about it right now. For now he let his large paw rest on her back. Mary's back expanding and shrinking with her breaths. She looked up at him and grinned. The sky was a bit darker now as the sun began its descent. The otter looked at him, hair obscuring her face.

“That's easily my favorite one," Vincent said, his features aglow.

“Mmm. I can definitely understand that. I like Episode III a lot myself."

He groaned. “It has so many cheesy lines though!"

Mary sat up a bit more with her paws on his chest and shrugged. “It meant a lot for me as a little girl. I got to see it in costume for the first time. It was really fun and… I don't know. I know it has problems, but there's something about it that makes me unable to really hate it."

He smiled and ran a hand down her cheek, his tongue darting out from his mouth for a moment. “You can't deny that Empire has the best music though."

She nodded vigorously. “It's easily the best. The Imperial March, the Asteroid Belt, Cloud City's theme. How can you hate it?"

“John Williams is probably the most iconic composer. What a badass."

Mary smiled and Vincent leaned in, his face close to hers. He could feel her warm body and the breath that seemed to kiss across his face with its very presence.

“Are you thinking about something?" she cooed in that soft, but lively voice that he had noticed first about her.

“I'm thinking that I have a cute otter on me, and she's very close to my lips."

The otter leaned in closer, taunting him with how close they could get and not touch.

“I wonder if she wants you to kiss her," Mary whispered, her eyes shut.

Vincent leaned forward and their lips met. It wasn't a cacophony of motion and hands and crashing passions like pornos might make it out to be. Instead, the two kissed, each dancing lips and crashing tongue careful, gentle. He ran his hands under her shirt, feeling the soft fur he saw before. She murmured an assent, her hips rolling against his instinctively. He flipped their positions, laying her out on her back as he broke the kiss.

“You up to something?" she smiled, her body wiggling ever so slightly. Vincent's horns poked on either side of her body and he pulled her shirt up just enough to expose her bare stomach. She ran her hands through his hair and he kissed soft trails of kisses along her stomach, each one so gentle that whatever preconceived notions of bulls that she had before were quickly done away with. Mary was in awe of his care, his careful, gentle touches that made her whole body feel warm and left her to wrap her legs around him.

“Your fur is so soft," he said, almost as if he was questioning how. She tilted his face up to hers, looking at his furrowed brow and pointing to her lips.

“I think I want the attention focused here right now." The otter didn't mince words, but she didn't seem to be demanding either. It was refreshing for the bull, whose ex was so assertive in a way that made him clear he couldn't safely disagree.

This time, he listened. He moved back up to kiss her, to hold her as he did so. Their kiss was more passionate now. Their bodies danced and pressed closer, each one of them clearly able to tell the signals that the others' body gave. Her claws ran down his back creating lines in his shirt, even if she couldn't tear through the fabric.

Each of them broke the kiss after what felt like… minutes, hours, years? The sun had fallen completely now and the main menu to the disc had been cycling through so many times that Vincent's brain was nauseated by the repetition, so he knew their intimacy had clearly been longer than just a few minutes. Mary sighed as he looked out his window at the dark sky, contrasting with the whiteness of the residual snowfall from last week.

“You need to go, don't you?" Vincent asked, his hands holding hers tight, as if she might drift away.

“I should. I don't want my parents to be too mad with me."

“Tell them you were with their best customer." Vincent stood and hefted her up with a single hand. His grip on hers was strong. “This better not be a one-time thing," he said when she let go of him to grab her discarded sweater.

“Why? Afraid you'll never see me again?" she chided him.

His ears drooped. “I mean, the thought had crossed my mind."

Mary grabbed his belt and pulled him against her with such force that the momentum sent them careening into the wall, with him pinning her there.

“Believe me, handsome. I want to see you again," she said, her paw running up his stomach and to his chest, feeling his beating heart working harder than usual at her touch.

“Good. Because I already hate not kissing you," he said, leaning in for another kiss, this one short, but more intense, as if her words could be verified with that kiss.

She finally broke away, her hand on his cheek. “I do need to go. Don't make me stay too much later."

Vincent smiled sheepishly and slipped away from her, though her paw did catch his. She opened the door to his room and started to pull away.

“I never paid you for the pizza, did I?" Vincent said, his head lowered in embarrassment.

“Think of it as me paying for the first date. But I expect you to get the next one."

The bull chuckled and she leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek.

“You never gave me your number, you know." Vincent said when she turned to walk away. She had already opened the door to the stairwell and was walking down the steps when she called back to him.

“Check your phone!"

The bull grabbed his phone from his bed and unlocked it. Sure enough, she had put her number in his phone. Maybe when he was in the bathroom? But how did she unlock it? He mulled over how the crafty otter could accomplish that until he saw her leaving the building out of his peripheral.

When he peered out the window to see her retreating figure, he was sure that she swayed her hips much more, his eye glued to her cute butt.

His phone buzzed and he looked down. The text was from Mary:

“Stop staring at my ass."