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Chapter 16: Finally Needed

John staggered through the wind and rain, holding his coat shut tight against the gusting Fall. Where would he be? It was too cold for the back al - John caught himself. Too cold? Ha. No such thing when it came to hustlers. Most of them were drug addicts and would sell themselves in a blizzard if it meant getting an ounce. The poor bastards.

The wind grew stronger, and John staggered. It was a bad part of town to be in this time of night, and with a car like John's, he was asking to be mugged, car jacked, and quite possibly, raped. But he didn't care. Not because he was horny, but because in the wake of Debra's departure, he needed the feel of loving arms around him. He needed someone who understood, someone who would stay . . . at last. John smiled to himself: Hayden had promised to never leave.

Hayden. One summer night, weary and wretched that Sharon had left him, John had come to what was commonly known as Hustler's Lot, a filthy parking lot outside an abandoned building on the seedy part of town. He had rolled up in his car, and it being a sleek black sports car, the hustlers had rallied forth, bellowing prices and making sweet talk. They were of all ages, these male prostitutes, ranging from thirty to as sadly young as sixteen. The older ones gave the younger ones noogies and pushed them back by their faces, trying to grab John's attention by shouting that they were older and therefore more experienced. Some gave themselves credit for looks they did not have while others were blunt and to the point: "I look like my mother beat me in the womb," one said, "but I'll give you the orgasm of your life."

With the scent of money sharp on the air, they were practically throwing themselves at the windows. Sitting behind the wheel, John had smirked The glass was tinted: they hadn't even seen his face yet. But why should they care? They just wanted money: for the next fix, for the brief luxury of a hotel bed and hot food. They wanted cash. But when John pressed the button and his window slid down? They started hooting with wild abandon.

"Woo! And he's an underwear model too?" shouted one in the front, a cute young wolf who had a habit of grabbing his crouch. Despite the relentless heat, John remembered that he wore a skull cap and coat. He opened the coat wide to reveal his bare chest and tighty-whities and the nice bulge that was in them, thrusting the others back with his arms in the process. John had looked at him and could not hide the fact that he was impressed. But his eyes drifted.

A young wolf was standing in the back of the group, not even in the group but on the edge of it. He was brown with very dark eyes, and his straight mane fell to the side around his curious gaze as he looked upon John, absently enthralled. He was curious, this withdrawn boy, but also frightened and unsure. He looked as if he needed someone to rescue him, as if he did not belong there with those addicts and other lost boys. He was a diamond in the rough.

John rested his arm in the window as he called to the boy, "Hey, you - no, you in the back. Yeah. C'mere."

Hayden started but came forward as the others cried out in disgust,

"Ahhhh, you don't wan' him! He's fresh meat!"

"He'll take ah dick in his ass, but doesn't know what else ta do with it!"

"He ain't clean like me, baby!" added an older male, who gave Hayden a taunting slap on the ass as he passed. "This one's got the clap, clap, clap!" he jeered, and clapped Hayden's ass on each word.

Hayden started again and jumped into the car like a frightened deer. John remembered speeding off with the disappointed cries and insults of the others ringing after them.

Sitting at a red light beside Hayden, John felt nervous and did not know why: he had picked up boys plenty of times. They were always the same: seventeen to twenty, cute, scarred from needles, sick with something either physical or mental. But Hayden . . . somehow, Hayden had been different. Even then.

"What were you doing back there?" John had eventually asked. God, this was the longest red light in his life . . . He felt hot under the collar just looking at Hayden: he was, after all, a very beautiful boy. But still, he had seen plenty of beautiful boys. What was it about Hayden that made him so different? His gentle gaze, perhaps? His shy demeanor? Yes, that must have been it. Hayden's uncertainty was arousing to John. The boy might as well have had VIRGIN stamped on his forehead.

Hayden had sat stiff in his seat. His eyes shifted in confusion as he asked, "What do you mean? I'm one of them."

John laughed as he rested his wrist on the top of the wheel. "Give me ah break, kid," he said, giving Hayden a half-smile. "You're not ah hustler. You look like you've never seen another guy's dick in your life. So what happened? Run away from home?"

John remembered that Hayden suddenly looked angry and stared resolute out the window. "If you picked me up just to lecture me, then you can drop me off at this corner up here."

John had only laughed, and when he sped past the corner Hayden's nod had indicated, he noticed the boy blushing angrily out of the corner of his eye.

"I didn't pick you up to lecture you. I just wanna fuck you. But . . . you can't blame a guy for being curious. I've never seen a hustler so scared in my life, you see. They could've been holding you hostage given the look on your face." John laughed at his own joke and swerved the corner.

"The look?" repeated Hayden, squirming uncomfortably now. His cheeks were getting so bright that he tried to keep his face turned, but John could see him reflected in the window. The street lights had somehow made Hayden's face all the more red.

"You looked lost," John admitted, serious now. He added sheepishly, "And confused. It was . . . cute."

Past humiliation now, Hayden made a scoffing noise. "What, so scared little boys make you all hot down there? Drop me off at the next light, Grandpa."

John laughed again. "You sound like my son. He's about your age. And like you and every other teenager in the world, he's a smart-ass." Thinking of David, John had laughed and shaken his head. "But here's a reality check for ya, kid: if you're gonna hustle, prepare to be fucked by guys a lot older than me."

Hayden swallowed hard, his face glowing now with his blush: they were rolling up on a hotel. And a very lavish one at that. "Do you really mean to go through with this?" he asked, his voice almost a squeak as they pulled into a parking space.

John killed the engine and let his paws drop to his lap. He looked sympathetically at the boy, who was still trying to keep his blushing face turned to the window.

"Look at me," John softly ordered.

Hayden did not want to but turned his head. He froze. It was as if he was really looking at John for the first time. His face went even redder as his eyes drank in the handsome male who sat so at ease in shirt and tie. John had muscles pressing through his sleeves, through his shirt. He was a finely toned male, his dark curls clipped short, his eyes friendly and even . . . gentle. Hayden felt his heart beating hard.

"Would I have picked you up," John whispered at last, "if I didn't want you?" He reached over and cupped Hayden's face a moment, but he dropped his paw away.

Hayden sat stiff in his seat, paralyzed by that brief but loving touch. It hit John for the first time that Hayden had probably never hustled before let alone been with a male and was naturally terrified: for all he knew, John would strangle him to death and leave him in the alley when it was over.

"You've got nothing to worry about, I assure you. What's your name?"

Hayden blinked, surprised.

"What?" John asked.

"The other guys told me . . . they don't usually ask names."

"Just prices, huh? Well, I'm not they. I'm Jonathan Harris."

Hayden was further surprised when John passed him a card with the number of his office.

"I've never done this before either - I mean," John cleared his throat awkwardly, "taking a guy right away to my suite like this. I usually hook up in the back of nightclubs . . . But I get the feeling I'm gonna wanna see you again. So what's your name, kid?"

"Hayden."

"Well, let's go in and get my money's worth, Hayden."

He grinned, and Hayden blushed again: there was lust in those eyes.

"Why do you do this stuff?" Hayden had asked some hours later when John was standing in the bathroom mirror. They had made love for several hours, and Hayden had never dreamed such a thing was possible: in books and television, sex lasted twenty minutes tops. Most of the time not even that. But John had keep getting hard, so Hayden had kept getting fucked, and laying in bed with John later while the older male slept, Hayden had studied him in the gloom, thinking on how tenderly he had been kissed, how carefully he'd been ridden. Laying there in John's embrace, he looked at the dark male and thought . . . he loved him.

John had been adjusting his tie when Hayden called the question from the other room, had just finished showering and dressing and would soon be crawling back in bed beside Debra. Hayden watched John's back and felt a little bitter: after that long and heavenly night of kissing and touching, John would go home to his family, and Hayden would go back to the street. He swallowed hard as he tied his shoes. But what did he expect? That John would love him back?

"I mean," Hayden continued darkly, "you're married, right? Of course you are."

"Yes, I suppose I am," John said lightly from the bathroom.

Looking at John through the door as he sat fully dressed on the edge of the bed, Hayden laughed dryly. "If you suppose then I guess you're not. Not really. It's not a real marriage if you don't care about each other."

After adjusting his tie, John stood tall in the bathroom doorway, his paws limp at his sides. "Love's not that easy, Hayden," he said quietly. "When I fell in love with Debra, I fell in love with a wolf, not a gender. I won't stand here and say that what I've done with you is right. But when I was inside you . . ."

Hayden grew very still as John came to him across the room. Their lips touched, and he melted under the power of that fervent kiss.

"It didn't feel wrong either," John finished lovingly. Without further ado, he plucked his keys from the bedside table and went to the door.

Hayden's heart fluttered when he realized John had left the hotel key behind. He was going to pay for Hayden to stay here an entire day? When Hayden expressed his amazement, John paused with his paw on the doorknob and calmly lifted his eyebrows.

"Actually," John remembered saying, "while you were sleeping, I booked it for the week. They know me here. This is my regular room. So you can stay here til Saturday, and I'll drop in every now and then . . . is that a problem?" He waited, his mouth puckering at the corners as if he was holding back a smile. He seemed to find Hayden's shock very amusing.

"So . . . what? I'm a kept male now?" Hayden joked, trying to peel some of his shock off.

John shrugged one shoulder. "If you look at it that way. I really just like you and want to help you. And since I'm wealthy enough to do it, I am. Do me a favor though and be here when I come back. Don't go getting some other trick. We have ah deal?"

Hayden laughed, his dark eyes twinkling boyishly. "Deal."

John smiled at Hayden and drove in the dark back to his home with Debra, never dreaming that he had just fallen in love.

Present-day John smiled bitterly on the memories. No matter that he and Hayden loved each other, it did not change the fact that Hayden now hated him. Since the night he made the mistake of whispering Tammy's name as Hayden sucked him, Hayden had walked out on him. They'd been in a back alley somewhere, some place that Hayden currently liked to hustle. But John usually kept Hayden so well that he seldom gave blowjobs for cash anymore. And yet, that evening, Hayden had been roaming the back alleys behind nightclubs, looking for someone to "blow for dough," as he so crassly shouted. John had found him and given him the money, but Hayden had insisted on the blowjob. John knew this was a mistake: he was half-drunk and very likely to whisper anyone's name but Hayden's. But he didn't stop the boy when he pressed him to the brick wall, didn't stop those playful fingers from jerking open his fly, didn't stop that hot mouth enclosing his cock.

Why had he whispered Tammy's name? John squeezed his eyes shut, hating himself. He still hated himself for the pleasure he'd known as Tammy rode him, but he doubted very much that Debra regretted sleeping with David. He knew for a solid fact that David wasn't sorry about taking his stepmother either: David knew that doing such a thing would hurt John, and that had very likely been his aim.

Wandering toward Hustler's Lot, John spotted Hayden among the others and called his name.

"Hey, hey, hey! Rich boy is back! What's up, baby? You ready for ah real male?" called the boy in the coat and grabbed his balls as John hurried past.

"I'll suck your dick like it's my mother's milk!" called another, a white wolf with long, shaggy hair and bright brown eyes. He tweaked his own nipple and ran his tongue over his fang as he eyed John.

John caught up to Hayden and grabbed his arm, but the others hooted and laughed when Hayden roughly shook him off. It stung John to see Hayden in such a condition: bags under his eyes, his fur limp and dull with filth, his breath foul. Hayden had blown John off the night before, had failed to check in at the hotel, and the cell phone John had given him had been put on voice mail. John had been leaving messages for a night and day.

"Hayden, please - wait!"

"Fuck off! I don't know why I believed it - you never loved me - I was stupid --"

"No, Hayden - just get in the car so we can talk --"

"I said fuck off!"

Hayden shoved John in the chest, and John was saddened to see tears in his eyes. They stood staring at each other as the other male prostitutes shifted further down the street, still calling to passing cars that slowed to observe what flesh was for sell.

John adjusted his coat and blinked off the rain in the misty cold. He looked at his lover and felt his heart crack: Hayden was dirty and mussed and breathless, and he looked so . . . tired. John took off his coat and put it around Hayden's shoulders. Hayden tried to shrug the coat off but could not when John suddenly embraced him. A chorus of taunting "Ooooos!" rose from the hustlers along the street, and Hayden blushed furiously.

"Get off me!" Hayden growled in a whisper. He twisted to get free. "And get out of here!"

John held on and whispered back vehemently, "Not until you talk to me!"

"John --"

"Swear it! When I let go, you won't run off. Swear!"

"I swear," Hayden mumbled at last, and John was relieved when Hayden sniffed and suddenly held him back, held to him like a frightened child. The urgency of Hayden's embrace worried John, but he said nothing about it for fear of further embarrassing Hayden.

They took off for the hotel, where the female behind the front desk smirked and said with knowing eyes, "The regular room, Mr. Harris?"

"Just give us the key, you bitch," John playfully snapped and the receptionist laughed.

Once in the warmth of the hotel suite, John loosened his tie, but Hayden threw off John's coat and stood beside the door, furious, his arms folded. On the car ride there, John had asked him why he'd never answered his calls, and without a word, Hayden had thrown the cell phone out the window. They said nothing more the entire ride, and when entering the hotel lobby, Hayden had roughly pushed past John and gone to the elevator.

"Don't bother undressing," Hayden said darkly as John sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his shoes. "I won't take your money anymore. And you're not gonna fuck me unless you rape me. And you won't rape me without getting hurt."

John rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Hayden," he moaned, kicking himself for caring so much about . . . well, a child. He had gone and fallen in love with a child. God, what would Debra say if she knew how young Hayden was? After their discussion about the divorce, he had told her more about Hayden but was careful to leave out the boy's age.

"Sit down," John said quietly after a pause. He was unbuttoning his cuffs as he spoke, and when Hayden failed to move, he blinked furiously and growled, "Goddamnit, Hayden, just do what I say for once! I've got too much shit going on without you hating me too."

Something in Hayden's face softened at this outburst, and he sat miserably on the edge of the bed beside John. But he didn't sit near him. He was still so angry! John had told Hayden that he loved him. And only him! It had taken John several hotel room sessions before he'd admitted it, but he had said those words. And looking up into John's eyes as they held each other in the dark, Hayden had believed it. Hayden had believed that he was the only one.

John stared miserably at his socks for a long time. He just slouched there in his work shirt and loose tie, and Hayden knew that he was longing for a drink and doing his damndest to resist going down to the bar: Hayden had once made John vow to stop drinking. As a result, John never took a sip around Hayden and had, before the recent fiasco with his family, been sober for several months now.

"Why didn't you answer my calls?" John whispered after a while. "I know you were angry, Hayden. But . . . I needed you. You have no idea what's been going on at the Harris house." He laughed bitterly and shook his head, still staring at the floor.

Hayden wanted to hold John, he looked so pathetic. "John, I . . . it wasn't just because I was angry. Something bad happened . . ."

John looked quickly at Hayden, and when those blue eyes snapped on him, he wasn't sure he could go on. He felt John squeeze his arm and whisper hoarsely for him to continue.

Hayden bowed his head as he admitted, "Some freak . . . raped me."

"What?" John cried, grabbing Hayden's face. He studied him sadly, his eyes passing over Hayden as if he could find the mental wound the rape had surely inflicted and heal it.

Hayden bowed his head as John touched and examined him. His ears went flat when he whispered, "It was just supposed to be a blowjob. I needed the money for a sandwich or something and I wasn't gonna call you if I was starving."

John flinched at the resent in those words. "Hayden, did he hurt you? Did you go to the police?" He noticed for the first time that Hayden's lip was cut and cupped his face miserably.

Hayden looked up and laughed bitterly at the worry etched on John's face. "John, I'mma hustler. I can't go to the police! You seem to keep forgetting that."

John laughed too, his eyes warm and loving as they gazed fondly on Hayden. "No, it's hard to remember. You aren't like any hustler I've ever known. It's like I adopted you from the pound or something, and now you're mine to love and care for."

Hayden closed his eyes, and this time, his laughter was lighthearted and genuine. "I love you, John," he said before he could stop himself. He flushed to hear the words escape his lips: though John had once said the words to him, he had never returned them. For the longest time, he had been afraid of loving John, because he had been afraid that John's love was a lie.

John was as startled as Hayden to hear that sentence. He blinked at Hayden a moment, but his eyes softened, and he whispered in the gloom, "Hayden, baby . . . you don't know how long I've waited to hear those words from those lips." He touched Hayden's mouth, then lifted his chin and kissed him.

Hayden shivered behind the kiss, behind the hungry caress of that tongue, and he grew hot all over when John fumbled at his pants. But he grabbed John's wrist and pulled his mouth away.

"Tammy," Hayden said darkly. "Who is Tammy!"

John looked guiltily at the carpet. Hayden watched in confusion when he reached for his back pocket, and after removing his wallet, he flipped it open to reveal a family photo: him, Debra, David . . . and Tammy. All smiling phony smiles of content. One big happy family. John tapped his finger lightly on Tammy's pretty face and generous bosom before flipping the wallet shut and tossing it half-heartedly on the bedside table.

Hayden stared at John in amazement and disgust.

"Your fucking daughter?" he whispered after a long pause. He wanted to hit John. "You whispered your daughter's name when I sucked you --?!"

"_Step_daughter," John snapped. He seemed unable to look at Hayden for his shame. He cleared his throat and shot up from the bed, wandering around through the dark room like he was looking for lost keys.

Still sitting in shock and anger on the edge of the bed, Hayden could make out John's outline from the streetlight reaching through the window. John removed his shirt, and Hayden could see his back, so tight with muscles. The shirt was thrown across a chair and followed quickly by the pants. Hayden swallowed hard: John had always possessed the nicest rock-hard ass. He could see those sculpted buns silhouetted in the glow of the streetlight, the way they rode under John's tail as he moved completely naked now toward the bathroom. The bathroom light snapped on, and Hayden saw for a split second John's naked body before the door shut behind him: lean, toned, and tight with muscles, his quiet phallus laying soft and thick as it rode above his balls. God, John was beautiful.

The rush of shower water hit Hayden's ears and he blinked as the spell wore off. He grew hot as he realized: that had been the first time he'd ever seen John naked. Any other time John was naked they had been in the dark, and Hayden had barely been able to see him in the light of the streetlamps. But running his paw along the muscles of John's back, along the round muscles of his arms and abs, imagination was all he needed to know this wolf was a fine piece of work. They usually made love for so long that Hayden slept in the next morning and was asleep when John awoke, had a shower, and ordered pancakes from room service. It was Hayden who had been naked in broad daylight, Hayden who - with blushing cheeks - sat up naked in bed as John spoon fed him. Hayden always wanted to get dressed, but John waved another hundred dollar bill at him, and he lay there in the pale morning light, laughing as he was spoon fed, blushing when he was teased, and groaning when spilled oatmeal led to John's tongue bathing his cock clean.

Present-day Hayden pushed those warm memories away, reminding himself that until things were explained - and perhaps even after - he was angry with John. Very angry. He rose and went to the bathroom door, and after gaining his nerve (for he had never barged in on John like this before), he pushed the door open. The room was hot with steam, and John was still in the shower. John had left the curtain open, and as a result, Hayden could see everything. He stood in the doorway, still as a statue, resisting the urge to get hard. He was seeing John not only naked now but dripping with water. The hot water plastered his fur to his body, further bringing out the shape of his muscles. John lifted his arm behind his head and looked up as he was washing. He seemed startled to find Hayden there but called over the rushing water for him to shut the door.

Transfixed by John's beauty, Hayden distractedly shut the door behind him and dropped absently on the toilet seat. When John laughed and told him to shut his mouth before he put something in it, Hayden glowered and looked away. He had to keep reminding himself to be angry, but John being naked was making that really hard. Right at that moment, the most he could feel was horny.

John eventually turned off the water and stepped out. He dried himself off, looking tired and somber, his dark mane in his brooding eyes.

"But why Tammy?" Hayden asked, scowling. "Don't you like males?"

"Got a history with females just as long," John said, wrapping the towel around his hips.

"But it's your stepdaughter!"

John held back a smile. "Are you mad I said someone else's name, or are you mad I said my stepdaughter's name?"

"Don't make fun of me!"

"Why not?" John said, smirking now. "Aren't you the one who refused to fall in love, Mr. I Don't Need Anyone? How many times have I told you I care? But you ignored my words or else threw them back in my face as lies. And finally, I do something to make you jealous, and that brings about the epiphany?" John laughed again, toweling off his mane with another towel as he eyed Hayden in amusement.

"There was no epiphany," Hayden said darkly. "I've loved you for a long time, John. But you can't blame me if I wasn't ready to run away and get eloped. You keep forgetting I'm a hustler: why should anyone love me?"

John paused and looked at Hayden seriously. "Why shouldn't anyone love you?" he said quietly. "I think you're sweet. You're caring. You're affectionate. You're everything I could want in a lover. If things had been different, hell, I might have proposed months ago."

Feeling embarrassed, Hayden squirmed.

"You keep reminding me that you're a hustler, Hayden. But I don't see you that way. You're not my piece of meat. I only throw money at you to make you stay, because I enjoy caring for you. I like to take care of you, baby. The very thought that you go back to the street each night. . . . it horrifies me. You have no idea how. And you getting raped, that's never gonna happen again." John went back to toweling his mane as he spoke, and Hayden sat on the toilet, gazing at him in wonder and confusion.

"John . . . what do you mean?"

"I'm putting you up at my summer home until Debra and I finish this messy divorce. You should be safe there until I --"

John's sentence was cut off when Hayden slammed into him, hugging him tight around the waist and squeezing his eyes shut. God, how long had he waited to hear that John was going to divorce Debra? He had secretly hoped, for so long, he had hoped! Because he wanted that very badly, John's love. He needed it like air. Before that moment, he had been too ashamed to admit such a thing. But after hearing John admit how much he wanted and enjoyed caring for him, after realizing just how much John loved him in return, John's words had made him brave. Brave enough to be loved.

Standing in nothing but his towel, John laughed nervously: Hayden had never hugged him with such joyful desperation before. But seeing the warm and happy look on the boy's face, he touched his mane affectionately and begged him to stand. Hayden did as John asked and they kissed.

"But why Tammy?" Hayden asked when their lips broke apart.

John laughed, tossing his towel in the cloth hamper as he moved into the bedroom. Hayden followed, frowning and confused.

"Still stuck on my stepdaughter, huh?"

"John, you said her name! It's not right!"

John went to the wide windows and looked out. Hayden hated the dreamy look on his face.

"It's not really Tammy that I lusted after. It's what she represents: my youth, my adolescence, and a time when I loved someone who looked very much like her, and she . . . she loved me."

Listening to the sad note in John's voice, the anger melted from Hayden's face. "Who are you talking about? Debra?"

"Debra?" said John, as if awaking from a dream. "No, I've known Deb since law school. Sharon. Sharon was my first wife. Sharon was my first . . . everything. Tammy reminds me so much of her. I loved Sharon very much, Hayden. She was a kind wolf, a wonderful spirit. She put other wolves first, she took care of everybody, stood beside her friends rather than formed petty rivalries over boys. Tammy was like that until she met David," John finished darkly. "Now her and that Amanda are no doubt fighting over him, and sometimes, it worries me that Amanda might push Tammy to become a mean girl. I'd hate to see that happen." John shook his head and reached for his pants. He was startled to find that Hayden had grabbed his wrist.

"But you're past all that now, right?" Hayden asked urgently. "You don't want Tammy anymore, and you're really leaving Debra? They'll be out of your life?"

"Completely," was the answer.

"Then don't put on your pants," Hayden said with a mischievous smile. He looked so boyish when he smiled that John laughed and said, "How old are you, Hayden? I've never asked."

"So now you ask?" Hayden teased. He stretched out on the bed as he answered, "Eighteen."

John looked relieved. But only just. "So you're young, but not so young I'd go to jail, thank god," he said with a laugh. "Statuary rape wouldn't look good on my resume."

Hayden laughed too. "So how old are you?"

John smiled, amused. "How old do you think I am?"

"I wanted to say thirty-something the first time we met, but then you told me your son was seventeen."

"I'm thirty, just like you said," John playfully lied. Still in nothing but his towel, he lay down beside Hayden and leaned his cheek on his paw, smiling down at him with gentle blue eyes.

"Fine, have it your way," laughed Hayden. "But I bet you're really forty-something."

They fell into a happy silence as John cupped Hayden's face and doted on his beauty, his thumb absently stroking the boy's cheek as he looked at him.

Laying close to John and feeling his loving caress, Hayden felt his heart beat hard. Except for the towel, John was naked, and Hayden suddenly wanted very badly to snatch the towel off so he could see John's toned body in the shifting shadows cast by the city lights.

"John?" Hayden whispered after a while. He was frowning, and the room was just dark enough that John could only just tell. The light from the bathroom hit the side of Hayden's worried face as he blinked up at his lover in earnest.

"Hmm?" John returned, feeling warm and happy and content there in the silence. He pushed Hayden's mane back, letting his fingers pass through the tangles.

"What's David gonna think about us?" Hayden wondered anxiously. "I mean, I'm young enough to be your kid. Or his brother . . ."

John laughed lightly. "You'd be surprised just how happy my son's gonna be when I sit him and Tammy down and announce that Debra and I are getting divorced and that 'oh yeah, son, I'm gay.' "

Hayden blinked at John in disbelief and laughed. "You are joking, right?"

"No, I'm not," John said quietly. "I think my son knew I was gay before I did," he added with a bitter laugh. "David has wanted me to do this for a long time. He's resented me for years because I refuse to just be who I am. He's so much like his mother in that respect."

John fell silent, and feeling relieved that he wasn't about to become another reason for David to hate John, Hayden snuggled close to his lover and smiled when those strong arms enfolded him.

"You're going to have to go, you know," John whispered after a while. "To get tested for it." He kissed Hayden's mane as if the very thought frightened him. His paw strayed to Hayden's tail and squeezed there a moment, as if the thought of another male touching Hayden there was both infuriating and horrifying.

"What if I have it, John? What will I do?"

"You mean what will 'we' do, baby. You're not alone in this."

"So you won't leave me if I have it?"

"I wouldn't leave you if you had SARS."

Hayden laughed. "I love you, John. I didn't think I could feel this way."

"Now you know what all the love songs are about," John quipped.

"The sad ones and the happy ones," Hayden whispered miserably.

"I'm sorry I said her name, Hayden. That won't happen again because Debra and Tammy are out of my life as we speak. I won't say anyone's name but yours. I don't need anyone but you."

Hearing John's words whispered so lovingly, so intimately in the dark, Hayden snuggled close to John and pressed a kiss in his neck. John held him, and after a while was startled to feel a hot tear trickle against his fur. He pulled back and looked down at Hayden anxiously.

"What is it? You scared about the clinic? I told you I'd never leave you."

"No, it's not that . . ." sniffed Hayden, blinking out more tears.

John stared down at him worriedly. "Then what is it?"

"Someone . . . finally needs me."