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Let Me Love You

Chapter 62

The next day, everyone seemed to guess that Florian had fucked Motsumi's brains out. Florian wasn't exactly certain how they knew and decided it had to do with foxes being able to read minds (and then gossip about what they had "read"). Motsumi was his normal serious self as they set out again through the valley, and for fear of drawing more suspicion, Florian hardly paid Motsumi any mind. Neither did Shakir, who seemed coldly angry with the pair of them.

When Shakir had gone, Motsumi told Florian that he hadn't known physical intimacy since the night Florian put his mouth on him, and before that . . . he hadn't known physical intimacy since the night his lover was murdered. After his lover's death, Motsumi took a vow of celibacy. That vow was broken later by a teenage Florian, and he hadn't been able to stop thinking of Florian since. His visions showed him Florian in the brothel, having sex, knowing love and intimacy, and it only made him . . . want Florian. And he was ashamed. He begged Florian to forgive him and promised that none of it would ever happen again - as if Florian wasn't the one who had pushed his skirt up and sucked him hungrily. As if Florian wasn't the one who had pulled Motsumi down and fucked him like a rabbit.

Florian couldn't quite believe it and laughingly asked Motsumi if he was still willing to make him a Guide. Motsumi answered that he was willing and that he would also be willing to accept Shakir. A dog could never truly become a Guide as a dog could not wield magic, but they could still walk in the light of Zuu'ma, receive her teachings, and know her blessing. Florian told Motsumi that he would consider his offer, though what Shakir wanted to do was entirely up to him alone. Florian had no desire to become king of Curith, but he couldn't think of leaving Curith in his father's paws either. Nor could he think of leaving his mother behind, unsafe and alone. Motsumi seemed to understand and told Florian that he and Palesa would always be waiting if ever Florian and Shakir decided to travel with them.

Florian and Shakir. Motsumi kept speaking as if Florian and Shakir were a couple. It baffled Florian. But as Florian walked with Shakir the next day, he could feel the cold chill of Shakir's anger, and he realized for the first time that they were a couple and they were in a relationship. Or how else could he be this miserable?

It wasn't long before they came to the next village, and Florian found himself walking at the back of the group with Shakir and Azrian. Florian thought Azrian looked very tired and sad, though she kept smiling contently at Ettoras and Yeneneshe, who were walking some ways ahead, paw-in-paw. Shakir watched Ettoras and Yeneneshe as well, and because of them, he seemed to want to hold Florian's paw, but Florian wouldn't let him. He was still . . . afraid. He didn't want Shakir to be another Keshavi.

"Teach me the language," Shakir said after some time. He walked as ever like a snake, his hips shifting, his long black tail swaying fluidly behind him. Florian was silently grateful Shakir had taken a green skirt from the bathhouse, so he was not forced to watch with a slight stiffy as Shakir's soft buttocks flexed under his tail with every step. Shakir was also wearing Florian's coat again, which Florian had begged him to take the next day, despite his anger.

Florian looked off listlessly. "What now?"

"The language you spoke with Motsumi," Shakir said, his eyes on the ground. "As you made love, you whispered things . . . What things did you say? He said a word . . ." Shakir blinked as he remembered. "He said . . . Fel mi, FA: "

Walking nearby, Azrian's lips tightened in a repressed smile. Florian could see she was trying very hard not to laugh, and he wanted to die: the words actually meant "Fuck me, Daddy!" Motsumi had called Florian "Daddy" a surprising number of times the night before. Shakir was smirking, and Florian got the feeling the mischievous young dog knew exactly what the words meant.

"Never say that again, love," Florian said wearily. "Unless we're in private."

Shakir's face darkened. "Will we ever be in private? I thought at first it was the others trying to keep us part. Why should they want to listen to us groaning and groping? But now I understand. You avoid being in private with me. You do not wish to touch me! You are afraid!"

Florian stared straight ahead. "I will not discuss this in public."

"You mean in front of Azrian, your fallen goddess," Shakir said bitterly. "Perhaps I will shout 'Fuck me, Father!' at supper tonight. In the fox language, of course."

"Actually," said Azrian and they both looked at her, "Fa is an intimate word that means 'daddy' or 'papa.' Pallo means father. It's formal. So Motsumi was very . . ." She looked away and coughed. ". . . intimate with Florian, was he?"

"Yes," said Shakir darkly. "But he refuses to be intimate with me." He was walking between Azrian and Florian, and because his coat was open, his bulge could be seen riding in his golden thong. The pale green skirt was of a sheer, almost transparent material.

"Maybe he has a good reason," Azrian suggested. "Maybe you are special to him. Or maybe he has been hurt before . . . ." Her eyes saddened. ". . . and he is only afraid."

Shakir stared off thoughtfully, and his brows went up in surprise. He looked at Florian with pity.

"You are not having this discussion in front of me," Florian complained, "as if I weren't even here!"

Azrian laughed wearily. "As you wish."

"I know you were trying to help," Florian said apologetically to Azrian. "Maybe you could help by killing my father. No? You'd be doing the world a service, really."

"If I killed your father," Azrian answered, "Curith would fall to chaos. King Louis has seven brothers who would vie for the throne."

Florian snorted. "You've thought of this before."

Azrian smiled sadly. "Yes."

"I'm telling you it wouldn't matter if my father died," Florian said. "Half my great uncles are allergic to the throne like me: they don't want it. And there's already a chosen heir, my grandfather's youngest brother, Uncle Ollie. There wouldn't be chaos. Maybe mourning. Maybe rejoicing. Would depend on which side of the country you were on."

Azrian didn't look at Florian as they continued walking. "I think it would matter to you if your father died," she said quietly.

Florian shook his head. "No. There is no making peace with that git." When Azrian looked unconvinced, he sighed and looked ahead again. "Alright, it would bother me. It would bother me knowing the bastard never loved me and died still never loving me. It would bother me knowing I couldn't save him from himself. It would bother me knowing my mother would be crushed, because she loves the fool and cares about him, even if he did spend half their marriage ignoring her. It would bother me. But . . ." Florian shrugged unhappily. "I've also come to terms with the fact that I'll never have his love or his approval. If he dies, yes, it will hurt me. . . . but I could live with it too."

That night they took refuge inside one of the houses, and Motsumi announced that they were getting close to Hildrith'el's great temple. The others seemed to become nervous with the knowledge that their journey to return the weapons to Skkye was almost at an end, but Florian felt only immense . . . relief. Knowing that such powerful artifacts had existed in the world for_years_ had been like holding his breath, waiting for the axe to fall. He'd always felt the gloom hanging over him, even when he was a child, as he'd always expected one of his batty family to take the stone and use it to take over the world. Miraculously, it never happened because Donica was ruling Varimore. The Carringtons were content to leave their weapon of mass destruction safely behind walls of steel. And then there was the night when the stone disappeared. King Louis was dead certain it had been stolen by "Alexandria's pet fox," that fox being Palesa. Now years later, Florian learned the truth from Palesa and Motsumi. He only wished he could tell his family that Alexandria - typical of her hotheaded nature - had caused her own death whilst sobbing over Jonathan because he didn't love her. But who would listen to him?

Palesa and Motsumi told Florian what happened when they were still back in the tunnels. They had stopped to rest when Florian found himself chatting with the two about the artifacts, and it was then that the truth unfolded. Florian found the truth of Alexandria's death very . . . sobering. Like his aunt, he had wasted away pinning for Jonathan, had stirred up rumors and gossip against King Etienne because he believed the two were lovers, and had wasted himself away drinking and being angry while Keshavi helplessly watched his suffering - and for what? He let his bitterness and spite nearly destroy him, as it had destroyed his aunt, and he realized he had to let go. When they were setting out again, Palesa put a comforting paw on his shoulder, and he knew she'd told him the truth of Alexandria to help him do just that.

There was only one bedroom in the house they occupied that night, and because everyone felt too guilty about sleeping in a bed when no one else could, they all stayed in the living room and slept on the floor near the hearth, on the couches, and in the chairs. Florian found it sort of peaceful, everyone being warm and cozy near each other.

Because for the first time in his life, Florian felt as if he had a proper family.

Ettoras was like a little brother to Florian. He was the stillness in the storm, a quiet and anxious young male who always seemed to keep most things to himself. Florian could understand that, as he'd never really had anyone to talk to growing up. He wanted to help Ettoras, and he did his best to comfort the winged youth when he was down. He even offered him advice about Yeneneshe - not that he knew anything about females. But he did know a lot about heartache. He'd practically written the book on it. Florian gave Ettoras the best advice he had: to always listen to Yeneneshe. He'd lost Keshavi because he didn't listen to how he felt, and as a result, had mistreated him for years and had been too blind to realize.

Kayya likewise inspired a protective sibling feeling in Florian. She was so young and so naïve, a girl trying to cope with a violent world as her own world burned. Florian looked at her and silently recounted all the young foxes like her who had come to his hospice, only to become hard and jaded as the world continued to oppress them. Kayya was a spirit who refused to become jaded, who refused to stop smiling. She was always laughing, and her sunshine was infectious. Florian honestly believed their group would have been a lot more dreary and morose without her, and he felt determined to protect what he perceived as her pure and joyful spirit.

Zeinara was the brat sister Florian had never asked for. If he was honest, she actually reminded him a great deal of his aunt Alexandria: hotheaded and determined to always have her way. She would have been a perfect child of Fire, only where Alexandria had been mean and cruel, Zeinara was actually kind and nice, given to poor jokes and temper tantrums that resulted from wanting to do the right thing and not from something as trivial as having broken her slipper. If Florian disliked Zeinara, it had little to do with anything she had actually done to him and everything to do with the fact that she reminded him of home. The females in his family were all dominating and wild, and only his mother had been sweet and gentle. He had grown up in the midst of such fire, longing to escape, being told that he himself wasn't fiery enough. Zeinara was bossy and loud, and it reminded him so much of home that he despised her and simply couldn't help it.

Palesa reminded Florian of his mother: warm and loving and proper and dignified. The others called Palesa wild, but Florian just couldn't see that in her. In his eyes, she was very much a lady and might as well have been wearing a ball gown the way she carried herself with poise and pride. When her lover died, she wept for days thinking no one could see, but he saw and felt everything and wanted to comfort her desperately. He told her a few jokes that made her laugh through her tears, and though a few jokes would never really end the pain of having lost Wilmer, Florian knew that just being there for Palesa still mattered. And it still helped.

After the incident in the bathes, Florian did not know what to make of Motsumi. Before their night together, he had viewed Motsumi - somewhat awkwardly -- as a potential father figure. He wanted Motsumi to be a father to him, but it was also difficult to really see him that way after having gone down on him years before. Now that they'd slept together, he felt this thing between them had taken the same shape as his "relationship" with Jule: he and Motsumi were friends with benefits. And he wasn't certain he wanted it to be that way.

Pili was someone Florian had despised for years, not for any rational reason but simply because was she a servant of the enemy. Florian hated Etienne because of Jonathan, but his family hated Etienne for all the standard political reasons, alongside the fact that Azrian - considered the murderer of both Donica and Hellene - was his lover. In the Carrington household, Etienne's was a name spoken with malice and spite. The Carringtons wanted him off the throne because they perceived him as "destroying" their world with his reforms. The sexist and hateful social norms they had built their entire lives around were being torn apart at the whim of their king, and any attempt they made on Etienne's life was always, always foiled by Pili. As a result, the Carringtons loathed Pili and Pili loathed the Carringtons. If Florian used to hate Pili, now he just viewed her as an annoying older sister who was constantly telling him what to do, and the day that she buttoned up his shirt for him and told him his boot was untied, he realized she now felt the same way about him.

Florian still found Nkwe and his scary sister Yeneneshe to be terrible and chill-inducing savage stereotypes, but because Nkwe was now "courting" Pili, they felt like grumpy in-laws, if anything. Nkwe barely acknowledged Florian except to stop him from doing something stupid - like stepping in ancient poop - and Yeneneshe always watched Florian with her cold, cold eyes, as if she expected he carried secrets he surely did not. She seemed to believe he knew all of Ayni's plans and machinations, so she was always prying and questioning him during conversations, and he didn't know how to make her understand he was basically a nobody not only to his own family but also to his own gods. Ayni had always ignored Florian's existence, as if she had given up on him long before he was born. His father once told him a story - just to be mean or perhaps because he was drunk - that Ayni was actually against Adrian's marriage to Sophie because she despised Sophie's meek and polite demeanor. Florian grew up being told that because Ayni had rejected him, he could hardly be called a Son of Fire. In hindsight, it was no small wonder that he'd had such a poor self-image, covered up by an exaggerated sense of arrogance and pride. He had spent his life acting the way he thought a prince should act, instead of just . . . being himself. And he was tired of it. Because of Shakir, for the first time in his life, Florian felt as if he could be himself without fear. And ironically enough, that frightened him.

That night, as everyone slept in the living room, Florian sat on the floor, his back against one of the couches as he tried and failed to sleep. Motsumi slept on the couch behind him, and Shakir slept in Florian's arms, his back against Florian's chest, his head to the side as he dreamt. Pili and Azrian would be outside, as they had drawn short straws for first watch. The others slept peacefully in the stillness and quiet, Zeinara and Kayya on the floor together, Ettoras in a cushioned chair with Yeneneshe in his lap. Palesa slept beside Nkwe on the couch opposite Motsumi, and Florian wasn't surprised when Nkwe's arm tightened around her. There was an obvious past between the two, no matter how they tried to avoid it, hide it, and deny it.

Florian heard a wild howl outside and silently wondered why the creatures had continued to pursue them even while Yeneneshe was no longer counted among their number. The night Yeneneshe was lost, the beasts had pursued as wildly and as madly as before, clawing at the house and snarling at the windows, though the theory went that without Yeneneshe - the virgin - present, the creatures should have lost interest. The question was, who was the other virgin? Florian's money was on sweet and innocent Kayya, though he wouldn't have put it past Zeinara to have fisted the girl out of any virgin status.

"What's the matter, Florian?" Shakir whispered hoarsely. "Can't you sleep?" His small paw closed on Florian's knee and squeezed.

"No, love, I'm fine," Florian muttered. He placed an affectionate paw on Shakir's head. "Go back to sleep."

"I have a better idea."

Florian groaned. "You know I never like your ideas."

"Instead of sleeping, we could go to the bedroom in the back of the house," Shakir said huskily. He took Florian's paw and guided it over the bulge under his skirt. "And you could finally make love to me."

Florian sighed unhappily.

"Why not?" Shakir demanded. In sudden frustration, he smacked Florian's paw off his bulge. "You want all the appearance of a relationship without actually being in a relationship!"

"That is not true!" Florian hissed at once. He glanced around, worried the others might wake. Shakir was barely bothering to keep his voice down.

"No," Shakir growled, "it is true! You want me to comfort you and kiss you --"

"You kissed me!"

"-- like some servant or pet," Shakir went on angrily, "like your slave! Is that what I am to you, Florian? Your slave?!"

"Keep your voice down, for god's sake --!"

"Don't tell me what to do!" Shakir shouted and climbed to his feet. He stood over Florian, his paws on his hips, and the bulge behind his skirt was nearly in Florian's face. Florian tried to get up, but Shakir grabbed him by the face and shoved him back down. Florian fell against the couch and looked up at Shakir in amazement.

"Shakir, sit back down and talk to me, love --"

"Don't you call me your pet names!" Shakir snapped and tears welled up in his pretty eyes. "You will not be with me because you do not care for me!" So saying, Shakir ran past the others, who came awake, looking at him in amazement as he flew. Florian had barely gotten to his feet when Shakir had run out the door.

***

"Shakir! Wait!"

Shakir heard Florian calling to him but didn't stop, didn't listen. He suddenly and desperately needed to be as far away from Florian as possible. He ran into the dark streets, and his tears were so thick, he didn't see it when a towering black creature stepped around a corner and appraised him with bright, hungry eyes. He ran right past it, and the creature grabbed him around the middle and snatched him into the air with all the delight of a cat having spotted a mouse. Shakir screamed as the creature gave him a nasty lick up his cheek and carried him away like a precious prize. He kicked and fought, and when he managed to hit the creature in the face, it grunted irritably and casually threw him over its shoulder.

Hanging over the creature's bristly fur, Shakir could see Florian far below. The prince ran from the house calling his name. Where were Pili and Azrian?! As if to answer Shakir's frustration, the two females appeared from the other side of the house. But it was too late: the creature heard its pursuers, and putting Shakir in its slobbering mouth, it crouched down on all fours and took off.

Shakir dangled helplessly in the creature's mouth, his tears dripping off his face. The world was going by in a blur, and eventually, he could no longer hear or smell the others pursuing. They could not keep up with the creature's immense strides, and before long, Shakir was alone with the great beast. The creature lumbered to a stop, the earth shaking under its feet as it stood upright again. It took Shakir out of its mouth and looked at him with delighted red eyes.

Shivering and crying in the creature's great fist, Shakir glanced around and didn't recognize where they were. They seemed to be in the middle of a forest, and the tall slender trees pressed around them in solemn pillars. Fog rolled over the grass, lending a sense of spookiness to the already spooky atmosphere, and it chilled him with its moisture.

"Help!" Shakir screamed. "P-Please!" Would they really leave him to his fate? They already left Yeneneshe behind once, and she had a brother_among them. He supposed there was no reason for anyone to risk their lives saving him. He wasn't _really a part of their group. He was no one important. Even Florian didn't really care about him. The very thought made more tears spring to his eyes, and he thought the creature looked as if it pitied him. It pushed its long black snout against his body and gave him an affectionate lick from chin to forehead. Then its hungry eyes swiveled lower, and with an inquisitive growl, it pushed its nose against his skirt, sniffing him roughly through the fabric.

Shakir whimpered and pushed on the creature's head, begging it to stop. He squeezed his knees together and tucked his tail between his legs, but the creature ignored him. It tore his skirt and thong clean off, until the tatters had fallen away to the ground far below, and holding Shakir up in the air, it extended its long black tongue and licked his little penis. Shakir stammered and tried to cover himself, but that only caused the creature to nibble his fingers until he had moved them. With his penis bare again, he was licked and sucked with sweet abandon. He kicked his legs in frantic protest, and as if to still him, the monster licked its own giant finger until it was glossy with drool - then sank it between Shakir's buttocks.

Shakir's eyes widened in shock and he went still. He'd never had anything under his tail before. He felt his anus straining to take the giant wet finger, felt his buttocks clenching in protest. He wiggled in the monster's grasp, but to no avail. It continued the slow assault, fingering under Shakir's tail and sucking him at the same time. Shakir choked and sputtered, pushing in desperation on the monster's forehead as his little erection heaved against the pleasure. He had almost come when the monster stopped sucking him. It chuckled darkly, then brought Shakir down to its enormous cock, which had too heads in addition to being enormous.

"No!" Shakir gasped. "Please!" He tensed when he felt the cock pressing against his anus. It would never fit. Even if the giant's finger didn't hurt, his cock already did, and it wasn't even in! Shakir could already feel the blood running down his thighs as the giant tried to force its way inside. It pressed Shakir down on its cock, harder and harder, growling in frustration when the tight little anus kept it out.

"S-Stop!" Shakir sobbed, struggling to get free. "S-Stop! It hurts!"

"Monster! Put him down!" roared a voice.

Shakir opened his eyes in surprise and blinked out tears. Florian was running toward them through the trees, the grass and bushes rustling apart in his wake, his eyes like fire as he came. He had no weapon, and Shakir wasn't certain what he intended to do.

"You idiot!" Shakir shouted. "Go back! He'll hurt you t-too!"

"Put him down, I said!" Florian snarled at the monster. He picked up a rock and hurled it at the monster's face. The rock hit the creature dead in the eye, and it screamed, throwing Shakir from its grasp in retaliation.

Shakir shouted as he tumbled into the branches of a tree. The branches cut his face, and he almost fell to the ground. He managed to grab one of the thicker branches and held it tightly, blood and tears in his eyes as he watched Florian on the ground below, battling the great monster with nothing but rocks and indignation.

The creature roared and snarled as Florian's rocks hit home. It waved its great paws, smacking the rocks away like annoying flies, and when it stamped toward Florian, the ground shook with its fury. Florian didn't back down, and the creature snatched him up - and snapped him its fist.

"FLORIAN!" Shakir screamed, his heart in his throat.

The creature threw Florian aside like a ragdoll and his body tumbled limply away.

"No!" someone shouted.

"You'll pay for that, monster!"

Shakir saw Azrian and Palesa crashing through the trees. Motsumi was a little ways behind them, his face etched in fury and hatred. The three of them set upon the monster, who stamped its great feet and screamed and roared. It swiped at its tiny opponents but they always jumped out of harm's way, fighting with magic and light and fire, until the creature's screams rang through the trees.

Shakir clung to the tree branch, paralyzed with fear. Palesa and Motsumi shot beams of fire from their eyes, and Azrian's magic summoned water that snaked around the monster and choked it until it coughed up blood. When the creature was subdued, Palesa conjured her bow of light and shot it in the face. The arrow was fired so violently, the monster jolted from the blow and blood squirted in a red rain through the air. The creature collapsed with a roar and an earthshaking slam. It didn't move.

In the silence that followed, Shakir clung in shock to the tree branch. He kept thinking Florian was dead and his heart was loud in his ears with the fear of it. Florian's body was down in the grass and it looked broken. Florian wasn't moving. Shakir couldn't breathe. He saw Azrian run to Florian, and after kneeling over him a moment, she raised her head, and though tears streamed from her eyes, she was smiling.

"He's alive!" Azrian shouted.

"Oh, thank the gods," Motsumi sighed.

Shakir scrambled down at once from the tree. He pushed his way past Palesa and Motsumi and fell to his knees beside Florian. Florian was indeed alive. Broken and bloody. But alive. Shakir broke down crying and dropped his face in his paws. If he hadn't run like a fool from the house!

"It's. . ." Florian coughed. "It's alright, l-love . . ."

"No!" Shakir sobbed. "I did this! It's not!"

"S-Shakir . . ." Florian frowned sadly and tried to lift his paw.

"Stop making him talk," Palesa said. "It's making him bleed more."

"Let's get him back to the house," Motsumi added. "Before more of the creatures come. He won't stand a chance if they do."

Shakir nodded miserably and got to his feet. He watched as Motsumi gathered Florian in his arms and carried him away. He wanted to carry Florian but he was too small. He felt so small and helpless. Azrian touched his shoulder and asked if he was alright, but he didn't even care if he was alright. Florian could die because of him! He ran after Motsumi and walked at his side the rest of the way back, and he couldn't stop staring at Florian. He kept willing him to live. Because in that moment, he realized for the first time that he didn't want to be away from him ever again.

Back at the house, the others expressed surprise and concern. Palesa and Azrian tried to calm everyone and explained what had happened as Motsumi carried Florian to the bedroom at the back of the house. Shakir followed, feeling more stupid and foolish with every step. He sat in a chair beside the bed and watched as Motsumi healed Florian, and he fully expected a lecture, a reprimand, anything, but Motsumi never reprimanded him. When he was finished, Motsumi said he was going to rest and quietly left the room.

Shakir sat miserably in the chair, and it took him some time to realize Florian was awake. The prince lay on top of the bed sheets in nothing but his shirt. Motsumi had removed his pants and his boots because one of his legs and a rib had broken from the fight. The bones were mended, but Florian would be stiff and slow as he continued to heal for a long time. Shakir knew. Back in the homeland, he had seen some of the fennec whores heal another fennec who'd been beaten severely by a client. Magic simply sped up the natural process. Florian was still bloody and filthy and still looked completely broken. Shakir remembered the handkerchief in Florian's coat, and he took it out and started wiping Florian's face clean. Florian watched him quietly and his eyes were sad.

"Are you alright?" the prince asked after some time.

Shakir laughed sadly. "Don't worry about me. You are the one broken on the bed because of my tantrum."

Florian frowned. "This isn't your fault, love."

Shakir swallowed unhappily and sat in the chair again. It surely felt like his fault. He looked at Florian with round eyes. "Why did you . . . do that for me? You could have died!"

Florian looked at the ceiling. "Didn't seem to matter at the time."

"You idiot!" Shakir exploded and leapt to his feet.

Florian looked at him and his mouth fell open in surprise.

"You could have been killed!" Shakir went on angrily. "The creature would have killed you if the others hadn't come along! What were you think --" Shakir was cut short when Florian pulled him down by the coat and kissed him. Shakir went very still, his nose touching Florian's. Florian's eyes were dreamy and warm.

"I was thinking," said Florian softly, "we'd better have sex before we both regret it."

Shakir pulled away and sat on the edge of the bed. Florian was a great kisser, but he refused to let it distract him. "Oh no," he said, closing his coat. It suddenly came to his attention that he was now completely naked beneath it, as the monster had torn his skirt and thong to shreds. He folded his arms. "You are going to talk to me. Now there is no escaping, no avoiding what I wish to know."

Florian smiled affectionately at Shakir, as if he found his behavior both familiar and amusing. "Go on. What do you wish to know."

Shakir looked at Florian unhappily. "Why are you afraid of . . . this? Why are you afraid of me! You made love to Motsumi without _blinking._But I just try to hold your paw and . . . you avoid me." He dropped his eyes sadly.

Florian reached over, and when he touched Shakir paw, Shakir looked up and saw the apology in his eyes. Florian then looked at the ceiling. He sighed, and sadness seemed to shudder through him. "I loved someone like you once before," he said. "It ended badly. I hurt him and . . ." he took a shuddering breath, "I'm afraid I'll hurt you too. . . ."

Shakir shook his head. "No, Florian. You would never hurt me --"

"Wouldn't I?" Florian said unhappily. "I'm a Carrington, love. That's what we do." He laughed bitterly. "I spent my whole life being told I wasn't Carrington enough. But I think I rather fit the bill." His face darkened.

Shakir was afraid and didn't know what to say. He'd never see this side of Florian before. But it didn't make him recoil. If anything, it made him want to reach out. He wanted to help Florian.

"I'm not going anywhere," Shakir whispered and stroked Florian's red mane back from his eyes. "I don't believe you'd ever hurt me." He laughed softly. "You just put yourself in harm's way for me."

Florian looked at Shakir with hollow eyes. "You were nearly raped because I upset you, love."

"No. It's not your fault."

Florian's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "You can't fix me, if that's what this is about. I'll always be this way."

Shakir shook his head and his lips curled in his usual smirking smile. "I don't want to fix you," he said gently, "I just . . . want to love you."