Giving In
Giving In
Copyright 2009 comidacomida
For the dozenth time during the week, Paul wished that his desk was a big pillow. Picking his head up off of it, he could only groan at the numbness in his forehead. Tuesday morning was the last time he had been with Tanner, and, although life went on, it somehow felt more incomplete. Scheduling at the office gave him little time for anything but work, and he knew it would be awhile yet until they were together again.
It felt like he hadn't seen Tanner in a month. It was Thursday morning, but the thought of the weekend only being two days away did nothing to offer any consolation for Paul's mood. Tanner would be working all weekend long, which meant that Paul would have empty hours to fill without his beloved Dog around him. As for work, at the very least it kept him preoccupied so he didn't have to think much about being Tanner-less.
The past two days had been spent almost exclusively with Ray, relearning what he'd need to know for the photo shoots. Although the golden retriever was a patient instructor, Paul had a feeling that he was learning at a pace far too slow to be the kind of photographer the advertising agency needed. Regardless, the training sessions were useful, and he was thankful for having such a pleasant teacher. His inexperience with professional photography was a problem he knew he'd have to address
A bigger problem on his mind, however, was Casey. The thought of spending that much time with Casey made Paul more than a little uncomfortable. It wasn't just the thought of his personal life being so closely entwined with work; Casey intimidated him. He got to his feet with a groan, grabbing the camera out of his top drawer. He realized that no amount of procrastination would make the day go any easier, and, if anything, it would detract from prep meeting with Ray.
That morning was to be his final meeting with the golden retriever, and then the photo shoots would continue. Alric had requested some matting and bordering meetings, which delayed the shoots while Paul got the hang of his new task; in all, it was a very generous gesture by the doberman, but Paul was still less than confident in his readiness. He navigated his way through the cubicles to one of the side offices, and peered through the open door. Ray was on the phone, talking quietly, half-turned away from the entrance.
Paul cleared his throat, and gave a polite two-knuckled knock on the door frame. Ray's ears went up and he glanced over his shoulder, offering an introductory wave to Paul. He turned back around, said a few words into the phone, and hung up, "Well... you look like hell." the dog noted with a friendly grin.
"Thanks... I feel like hell too. Way to promote confidence." the young man replied.
"I'm not up on the whole new-age management style thing," Ray noted unapologetically, "What you're learning should be good enough for your confidence; you do just fine with a camera, Paul."
Paul trudged into the office and collapsed into one of the two chairs on his side of Ray's desk. Ray didn't host people in the office, and it often made Paul wonder just why the chairs were even there, but he didn't mind at that moment, just happy to have some place he could sit. The dog cleared off a section of his desk before holding his paws out, "Camera." he directed. Obediently, Paul placed it into Ray's paws.
Something about Ray's demeanor changed every time he held a camera. There was a certain giddiness to it, like an expectation was about to be fulfilled. Paul couldn't help but compare it to a four-legged dog eagerly waiting for a ball to be thrown. It was a joy to watch, and never ceased to amaze Paul at how much Ray obviously enjoyed his job.
The young man had watched the Dog once or twice at a photo shoot, and always marveled at how well Ray could command the entire room, creating a kind of rhythm and dance to what would otherwise be pure chaos-- the kind of chaos Paul had experienced his first day walking into the shoot on his own.
"I don't think that I should do this shoot." Paul blurted out, his reservations having reached critical mass. His internal objections had nowhere else to go but out his mouth, and he found himself embarrassed by his own admission.
"Then don't do it." the retriever shrugged in response, setting the camera back down in front of him.
"But..." Paul paused.
"But?" Ray questioned, "You're arguing with yourself now, are you?" Paul was still far from perfect at reading dog expressions from their muzzles, but the raised ears and the tell-tale *thwap thwap thwap* against the back of Ray's chair indicated that the otherwise caustic comment was meant in good humor.
"I mean... well... I didn't ask for this project."
"That's why it's called work, kid." Ray noted nonchalantly, the sound of the dog's tail continued its wagging, and it almost managed to make Paul smile.
"I just..." the young man squirmed in his chair, "I just don't feel right about taking it from you... YOU'RE the photographer, not me."
"Professionally, maybe, but from what I hear, management says different." Ray stood, placing his paws on his hips and stretching backward with a grunt, "There are plenty of other projects for me to work on. Besides, I'm way too short on patience for dealing with this new guy, and--"
"Casey." Paul noted, freezing in his chair the moment his brain had the chance to catch up to his mouth. He felt himself go a little pale, but worked to recover as quickly as he could, as Ray shrugged it off.
"You'll do fine, Paul." the dog finally relented, giving him a vote of confidence, "You've obviously done your homework on Mein Hund, and you care enough to bother learning the name of their model... but, more than that, you know your way around cameras. Whether you want to admit it or not, I can tell that you have most of the talents needed to be a photographer."
"Thanks..." Paul answered, feeling a flush return to his slowly un-whitening cheeks, but he paused as he considered Ray's comment, "wait... MOST of the talents?" he inquired.
"There's more to photo shoots than knowing what way to point the camera, Paul. I haven't seen what you can do yet when you have to deal with a model, set up lighting, and figure out how to make use of your full exposure count." Ray explained.
"Well... uh..." Paul fumbled, "couldn't you teach me about those things too?"
Ray laughed, walking past him on the way to the door. The dog patted him on the shoulder, "That's all about creativity and expressing yourself, kid. That kind of thing you have to figure out how to do on your own. Good luck with the 'spotted terror'... I think you'll need it." the golden retriever chuckled all the way down the hall.
* * * * *
Paul held the camera at the front of his body as he entered the set. He realized it was too small to hide behind, and it wasn't the same thing as a badge, but somehow it made him feel better having the hand-held hunk of technology separating him from everyone else. It wasn't as if he COULD hide, however, as he was spotted immediately by the director of photography, a high-octane, coffee-fueled red-head named Miranda.
"Oh, good, you're here, Paul. Come on over... we've already delayed the shoot long enough and there are other projects I need some of these people for. Over here... I need to introduce you around to the people you'll be working with directly. Through here. Sam, watch the lights. Mateo, do the damn cuts somewhere else. Ollie, where's the Talent?" she didn't bother longer than it took to get a finger point from the startled lightning technician. "Sam and Ollie are our two light-techs, and Mateo you already know." she added to Paul as an afterthought.
Paul rarely had a reason to talk with Miranda, and that suited him just fine; she was able to hop from topic to topic so fast that it made his head hurt. He was just starting to get the hinting of a major migraine by the time she finally came to a halt. The pain only got worse when he realized that he was standing in front of Casey. The dalmatian had a folded newspaper in one paw, and some kind of coffee drink in the other. They two locked gazes again, and he saw Casey's adam's apple jiggle as the dog swallowed hesitantly.
"Paul, this is Kitten-Chaser-- he goes by Casey." Miranda noted. "Casey, this is Paul Miller; he goes by Paul."
"Hey." Casey responded. Paul was grateful for the casual greeting, the dalmatian thankfully not acknowledging that they knew one another. The young man felt it would be easier if they could keep things professional, "I'll be your model today." the dog added with a smirk.
"Um... hi." Paul responded, glad to have the chance to show his professionalism, "I'll be your shooter today... uh... shootist... um.. photo-shooter... er... photographer." he fumbled with his camera, ~So much for professionalism.~
"This is Paul's first official photo shoot." Miranda explained matter-of-factly, astutely observing the movement of several small pieces of the set, completely missing the dirty look he gave her.
"Ooohh..." the dalmatian crooned, "your first time..." and he set his paper and cup on a table beside the chair, "I'll be gentle." with a grin, he stood up and moved toward the lit set. The dog let his robe drop to the ground, revealing that he was wearing nothing except for a white, string speedo, "How do you want me?"
"Excuse me?" Paul wheezed.
"Where should I be? What's the plan... Paul?" Casey clarified.
Paul fought to clear his mind as he went to the camera stand. He attached the camera to the tripod as a small mob of fur-stylists, make-up technicians, and lighting specialists mobbed Casey. One of the men from wardrobe was affixing Casey's collar, and Paul did not miss the fact that the dalmatian was fighting hard to resist wagging. Paul tried to clear that thought as well, and surveyed the backdrop.
The set builders had done an excellent job making the backdrop look like a quiet, intimate apartment, including a view of the city out the window-- of course, that was just a keen eye for perspective. In reality there was nothing beyond the window's colored paper-scenery except for more of the studio. What Paul really liked was the way that there were small holes poked into the black paper that was supposed to be the night's sky, creating little 'stars' for the camera to pick up on the exposures.
Once everyone cleared the set, however, Paul could no longer focusing on the task at hand; he was left looking at only Casey, lit by a dozen lights. The dalmatian was in good shape, physically fit, and he obviously took very good care of his fur. The dog was idly making some snide remark to one of the fur-stylists for trying to cover up the spot he had on the left side of his muzzle, "I'm a dalmatian. We have spots." Paul didn't catch the reply from the worker, but whatever was said, it made Casey bristle.
"Get in position, Casey." Paul interjected, eager to forestall any arguments; he was amazed at how quickly the dalmatian responded. Adjusting the camera, Paul let the auto-focus take control. He checked the lighting indicator, and took a moment to assess the dalmatian's pose. Casey was turned 3/4 away from him, mostly facing the fake window. The dog was acting as if he were gazing out of it, allowing the Mein Hund logo to be clearly visible on the back of the collar. "Hold it." he directed, and Casey remained as still as a statue.
Paul snapped an exposure, and, self-consciously glanced around to the collection of people looking-on. None of them were paying him any attention. He smiled to himself; it was a good indication that nothing was wrong. "Alright... head up, and look back over your shoulder. I want to try a few exposures with different expressions." It was essentially the same pose in which he first encountered Casey early in the week, but he fought hard to remove the thought from his mind.
Casey started with a surprised expression, similar to the one Paul recalled. *snap*. The dog changed it into a wry grin. *snap*. Casey winked at the camera, the grin turning into a suggestive smile. *snap*. Casey raised a paw and hung a finger from his muzzle with a foolish smirk. *snap*. Paul fought hard to ignore the dalmatian's tail, which was picking up speed in its wag. A few people around the set started whispering to one another, and Paul quickly stepped back from the camera, "Alright... let's try some different poses." his voice came out with a hesitant squeak.
"I'm yours to command." Casey replied. Paul tried to avoid scowling, and he realized that the whispers were still continuing. The dalmatian stood, turning to face him, making Paul wish immediately that he hadn't. Casey's thong had tightened significantly, revealing a far-too-clear outline of the dog's thickened sheath. Paul felt a powerful blush hit his face like a sunburn; Casey liked being ordered around more than he had realized.
"Miranda?" Paul inquired, and she was next to him immediately, "Can we get maybe a small table or something?"
"Be a little more specific." she requested simply.
"I want Casey-" he grimaced inwardly when he saw the dalmatian's ears raise, "-seated at a table..." he continued, and the dog attempted a casual ear-scratch before lowering them, "maybe a chess set or something in front of him... and jeans. Put him in relaxed fit jeans." Paul was glad to see that a lot of the whispering had halted; he took that as a good sign.
Five minutes later, Casey was being fitted into a pair of jeans, "I could have just used my own." he argued as wardrobe dressed him, "Hey... watch it!" he swatted at a pair of hands as they neared his crotch, "I can zip myself up, thanks." and he did so before seating himself back down. The dalmatian stared back at Paul from across the table, tags glinting in the set's lighting. Paul swallowed self-consciously as the prop department set a chess set down in front of the dog.
"White, or black?" Casey asked, looking at the set.
"White with black spots!" came a shout from somewhere in the gathering.
"Mateo... out. Now." Miranda ordered.
"I was just--"
"Now." Miranda repeated.
Paul continued unabated, "Why don't you play black?" Casey smiled, and obliged, turning the board so that he was behind the black pieces. "Good. Go ahead and move a few pieces around for both sides. We want this to look like a game is underway." The room got much quieter, and Paul took that as a good sign. Casey did as was requested.
"Anything else?" the dalmatian inquired.
"That's good just like that. Can someone from wardrobe give his collar a twist? We need the logo to be visible." Paul requested, and as requested, someone from wardrobe moved over to adjust it. "Back further." Paul directed. "No... the other way." after two more tries, Paul sighed, realizing why Ray was on heart medication. He moved into the frame and shooed the other worker away.
Paul took hold of Casey's collar, and gave it a slight twist, running his fingers underneath it to smooth the dog's fur out after the rotation. The dalmatian gave a faint shiver underneath his hands, coupled with a near inaudible mrr, and Paul quickly backpedaled, moving to his camera once again as he started to blush, "Okay..." he said, a few octaves too high. He cleared his throat and started again, "Okay... Casey... turn to the right, just a little; I want you staring at the camera with an expression that says you're winning."
"I'm pretty sure I am." the dog grinned, placing a thumb and forefinger on a pawn, leaning forward toward the camera with an expression that was entirely too accurate.
* * * * *
When Miranda finally called for a lunch break, Paul tried to slink out of the office unnoticed, but it didn't work. "Hey! Paul!" Casey called from behind him, the sound of bare claws clicking on the tiled floor as the dalmatian ran to catch up, "Heh... you almost got away there." the dog smiled, pulling a blue turtleneck over his head. Paul didn't miss the fact that the dog didn't bother taking his collar off.
"Hey, Casey." Paul replied neutrally, "I figured you'd still be changing. I'm just heading out to lunch."
"Cool!" the dalmatian noted, wagging. "I'll join you. Lunch is always better when you have company. Where are we going?"
Paul paused at that, and turned to look around and make sure no one else was in the entryway before speaking up, "You know... for a Burb Dog, you sure have a way of taking control."
"Some Burb dogs don't mind a little control... anyway, I'm just direct is all." Casey replied, his tail slowing its wagging, "I was just looking forward to... you know... spending some time with you."
"Well..." Paul spoke up, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say, "maybe I don't want to spend time with you." The words weren't exactly what he had in mind, but, as usual, they were out before he could hold them back.
"Oh..." Casey replied, tail completely stopping as it started to tuck up between his legs, "I..."
"That's not what I meant." Paul added quickly, "It's just that..."
"I make you uncomfortable." Casey responded, ears drooped slightly, eyes not meeting Paul's.
"Well... yea. Kinda." Paul responded with a helpless shrug, "I mean... you're the first Burb Dog I've ever met, and I don't really know a lot, so I... kinda trip myself up, I guess."
"I could... well... teach you... if you like." the dalmatian looked up at him, head cocked to the side slightly, black tip of his tail wagging... just a little.
Although Paul had seen 'the puppy face' from dogs often enough, he had never seen it from a Dog before. He was jointly tempted to laugh and give the unavoidable 'awww' at the same time. In the end, all he managed was to offer a half-hearted shrug and a nod, "Alright... come on."
Paul waited for Casey to get a pair of shoes on before the two walked out into the cold. Paul laughed inwardly at the thought of considering 50 degrees cold. Looking around on the street, people were bundled up in heavy coats, and some even wore earmuffs. He casually strolled down the street in his t-shirt, remembering fondly that plenty of people back in his home state considered fifty degrees to be sandal weather.
"Doesn't look so silly now, does it?" Casey asked of Paul, strolling beside him.
"Huh?" Paul inquired.
The dalmatian tugged at his turtleneck, "Fits right in, almost."
Paul shrugged, "Yea... I guess so."
The two continued on toward the cafe at the corner in silence. After a half a block, Casey tried again, "You know... it was really cold down in Los Angeles yesterday."
"I've set up enough jokes to see one coming." Paul replied, glancing sidelong at the smirking muzzle of the dalmatian."
"No... it really was!" the Dog overacted in response.
"Okay... I'll bite. How cold was it?" Paul questioned.
"It was so cold, they had to wear TWO sweaters over their shoulders." the dalmatian's tail started to wag again and, despite himself, Paul couldn't help but smile at it. Regardless of Paul's desire to keep Casey at a distance, he had to admit that the dalmatian was pleasant company.
Once in the cafe, the two were guided to a booth, and they took their seats, "So what happened to that last camera guy? The gray-muzzle who obviously hated my guts."
"Why do I get the feeling that the term 'gray-muzzle' for a Dog is about as respectful as saying 'that bald guy' about a human?" Paul questioned.
"Probably because it is probably right in line with that." Casey smirked.
"Well... Ray is a friend of mine." Paul said flatly.
Casey's smirk disappeared, "Oh."
The two sat quietly for a few moments until the uncomfortable silence broken by the waiter, "Can I start you gentlemen off with an appetizer? The mozzarella sticks are really good, and so are the onion rings."
"No thanks... not for me." Paul replied, looking across the way to Casey, whose muzzle was buried in the menu.
"Um... one of each." Casey looked up at the waiter, a pleasant smile on his muzzle, "If you really think they're that good." Paul did not fail to notice the wink the dalmatian shot their server. He didn't comment about it until after the waiter nodded and left.
"Were you just flirting with him?" Paul asked in a shushed tone.
"It all depends." notes Casey.
"Funny... I always figured flirting was a pretty straight-forward yes or no." Paul responded, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, propped up by his elbow on the table.
"Well... you're obviously not very good at flirting then, are you?" Casey replied with a grin, "if he's interested, then it was flirting-- if not, then it was just being really nice. Finding a Leasher is a hard enough thing... but finding a male Leasher for a male Burb Dog is even harder." Casey explained.
"And... a Leasher is...?" Paul questioned, focusing on the new word as opposed to the jab at his flirting skills which, admittedly, were horribly underdeveloped.
"A human who's into dogs..." Casey leaned forward with a conspiratory wink, "kinda like you."
"I'm not a--!" Paul began before realizing that his tone was a little louder than he would have liked, "I'm not a Leasher... I'm not even really into Dogs.... it's just--"
"Complicated?" Casey inquired, "Coincidence?" he smirked, "Maybe it's just a one-time thing." the dalmatian leaned further forward, "Or it could be just an emotional attachment... you know... like having a special someone there for you that you can relate to, and be yourself around... and maybe take for walks..." Casey's tail started wagging against the back of the booth.
"I just like Tanner for WHO he is... not WHAT he is." Paul explained, "The way I see it, you explain Burb Dogs and Leashers as people who look for specific physical traits that they like about someone and hook up based on that."
"It doesn't have to be physical traits, you know... it's a kind of societal thing too, I guess." Casey explained, "I mean... yea, I kind of think of Humans as Leashers, and as far as any Dog I've ever been with, well... I've always been the one in control. Dalmatians are very aggressive towards other dogs, you know" he grinned toothily at that.
"You don't say?" Paul smirked in response, "I think that I've noticed that, yea. But I thought that tended to be with the four-legged variety."
"Hello... Burb Dog here." Casey raised his paw off the table, inconspicuous enough in the comment so as to not draw attention, Paul thankfully realized, "I tend to like being a dog for the right people."
"So... it's kind of like a role playing thing." Paul assessed.
"Yea... kinda like that." Casey smirked, resting his muzzle atop his two paws as he gazed across the table at Paul, "You know... all of your wide-eyed approach to all of this new stuff is really cute."
"Uh... I'm not sure whether I'm supposed to be flattered or insulted." Paul answered, fidgeting at the dalmatian's stare.
"Both, maybe... or at least flattered." Casey responded, "I think I'm beginning to see what Tanner sees in you."
"And what's that?" Paul answered, feeling infinitely more uncomfortable at the mention of his boyfriend.
"He must really enjoy teaching you all about Dogs." Casey licked his muzzle, leaving Paul wondering just what was going through the dalmatian's mind. Whatever it was, Paul was pretty certain he wouldn't like to know.
"Could we change the topic, please?" Paul requested, "I thought we were going to talk about Burb Dogs."
"Well... we are... just a little indirectly." Casey smiled, sitting up a little straighter, "One reason why I can tell that for sure that you and Tanner don't have that kind of relationship is because Burb Dogs don't usually bite their Leashers."
"Huh?" Paul asked, likewise sitting up, "Tanner hasn't ever bitte--" and he froze mid-word as he saw the smirk on Casey's muzzle, and the dalmatian's paw idly tapping at his shoulder. Paul's hand went reflexively to the faint black-and-blue mark left by his lover's teeth during their most recent passionate moment several days previous.
Casey leaned forward a little, a wide grin stretched across his muzzle, "You have NO IDEA how hot that sounds."
"I thought that Burb Dogs weren't into biting." Paul retorted, still reeling from the embarrassment of Casey pointing out his 'war wound'.
"Yea... but it can still be sexy in the right circumstance. I remember this one time with Tanner when--"
"That's okay... we can skip over that." Paul quickly interjected, feeling his whole face flush red, whether in embarrassment or indignation, he wasn't sure; the young man truly didn't want to hear about Tanner's last exploits from one of the Dog's ex-lovers.
"Okay..." Casey shrugged, "But if it helps at all, Tanner told me, paws-down, you are better in bed than me." the dalmatian's ears reddened slightly as they drooped.
"He told you what?" Paul replied, half angry at the two Dogs for having discussed it, but also half flattered that the german shepherd would have judged him superior.
"Oh... well... not before I asked." Casey added quickly, "I kind of interrogated him. Don't be mad." and the dalmatian shot in that out-of-sorts 'puppy face'.
"GYAH!" Paul relented as he turned away, "Stop doing that!"
Casey chuckled, just a little, "I'm not too bad at it, am I?" Paul rolled his eyes, but jumped when Casey's paw slid onto his hand, "There's a lot of other things I'm good at too, you know."
Paul quickly pulled his hand away from Casey's paw, "Why do you keep doing that?"
"Doing what?" Casey inquired, pulling his paw back as his ears lifted slightly, as if accentuating the question.
"You're flirting with me. Stop it. It makes me uncomfortable." Paul's voice slowly began to climb upward in volume, but he worked quickly to bring it back into a quiet decibel, "I'm with Tanner-- you KNOW that."
"I know... I know." Casey folded his paws on the table, "But... I mean... it's not like you do EVERYTHING with Tanner, right?"
"What's that supposed to mean? And why does that even matter?" Paul asked.
"Well... I know you humans have your whole up-tight thing about relationships and all..." Casey began, fiddling his fingers together on the table, "But, you know... Dogs tend to focus on different kinds of relationships... different people for different needs."
"So... this means what, exactly?" Paul asked, wishing afterward that he had just asked Casey to forget about it.
"It means that anything you do with Tanner you do with just him... but if there're things you don't do with Tanner, then you can do them with other people." Casey replied matter-of-factly, "That's what a closed relationship is about."
"A closed relationship is about 'doing things' only with your chosen partner." Paul countered.
"What about all the fun things you want to do but your 'chosen partner' doesn't?" Casey asked, "They're going to be greedy enough to tell you that they won't do it with you and you can't go anywhere else to find someone who will?" Casey stuck his tongue out, "I think that sounds kind of stupid."
"And I think it's called 'compromise'." Paul responded. The more he thought about it, the more the young man realized that what the dalmatian said held some kind of sense, but it wasn't the kind of sense he wanted to acknowledge-- it felt WRONG.
"Well, I think it's stupid. You should be happy for your partner being able to find someone who will do something you won't-- it means they get to do what they enjoy, and you don't have to do it for em." Casey answered flatly.
"What about if your partner decides to have a relationship with that person instead?" Paul countered.
"Then your partner is an asshole." Casey answered, "They're with that other person to fulfill a physical need... they should get everything they need from you."
"Well... I think that sex and emotion should go together." Paul answered.
"Yea... I've heard that argument before too." Casey shrugged, "The day I stop enjoying sex for the sake of sex I'll be sure to let you know." the dalmatian grinned... but the expression slowly abated as he regarded Paul more seriously, "I like you, Paul... and I'd really like to... well... you probably know all the things I'd like to... but, really, it's more important to me that we can work together and, I hope, be friends."
The comment caught Paul off-guard. During numerous occasions his impressions of Casey as a shallow, sex-driven, boy-toy were continually reinforced by the dalmatian's bon-vivant behavior. At that moment, however, Paul really didn't know what to think. Was it possible that there was more to Casey than first met the eye?
"Cheese sticks... and onion rings." noted the waiter, setting the appetizers down at the table, "And plates for both of you." The waiter excused himself, and promised to be back for their main dish orders.
Looking across the table at the dalmatian, Paul saw Casey idly playing with one mozzarella stick and one onion ring, making a lewd face as he slid the cheese into the O of the onion ring. He heard Casey's tail beat out a rhythm on the booth backing. Paul realized that it WAS possible that there was more to Casey than first met the eye... but he was doubtful.
* * * * *
Everything was dark by the time Paul got home. The porch light, thankfully, was on a timer, which meant that he had light by which to let himself in. He held the door open for his guest; Casey strolled inside.
"Wow, Paul... I had no idea you lived in a place like this." the dalmatian's tail was wagging freely.
"It's home." Paul acknowledged, heading down the hall to his bedroom, stopping only long enough to verify that there were no messages on the answering machine; there were none.
Casey followed, albeit, much more slowly, pausing every few steps to look at things, ears perked as much as they could be considering the flopped tips. He sniffed around quite unabashedly, not subtly like Paul had seen other Dogs do. Paul found himself watching Casey who, after a moment, caught his glance, and his tail-wagging increased in speed, "Like what you see?" he asked.
"You are SO weird." Paul rolled his eyes.
"Weird is good... it makes life that much more interesting." Casey winked, and slid past him into his bedroom, "Wow... now THIS is cool."
Paul watched with bemused interest as the dalmatian strolled around the room, looking everything over, sniffing, inspecting, and peering. When Casey finally finished a review of the room, he stopped right in the middle of it, closed his eyes, and inhaled a deep breath through his nose. The dog held it for a moment then, shuddering, slowly exhaled. The whole action made Paul feel more than a little uncomfortable.
"Everything okay?" he asked of the dog. Casey turned toward him, eyes lightly hooded, as if he were inebriated.
"Mmm-hmmm." Casey responded, a strange, warbling giddiness to his voice, "I just... really like the way you smell." the dalmatian's goofy grin remained. Sighing, Paul moved to his bed. He took a seat and began untying his shoes as Casey continued to inspect the room. The dog's tags released a muffled jingling from his turtleneck every time his head snapped one direction or the other.
"Ugh... this week is going to kill me." Paul groaned, laying back on the bed as he kicked off his shoes. The jingling of Casey's tags grew closer, and even more prominent once he felt the Dog's turtleneck land on the bed beside him. Paul opened his eyes, looking up just in time to see Casey kneel down on the floor at the foot of his bed, resting a spotted muzzle on the human's thigh.
"It's Friday tomorrow... just one more day to get through." the dalmatian smiled, "I look forward to it... that's another day I get to have you ordering me around." Paul could see Casey's tail wagging through the air behind him. It was funny, in a way, to see the Dog that had terrorized the whole photo-shoot being so quiet and well-behaved. The good behavior didn't last for long, however, as Casey leaned further forward, and inhaled deeply at Paul's zipper, and exhaled powerfully, shuddering.
The dalmatian's breath felt good against the front of his jeans, making him shiver just a little as he was reminded of the longing he had to have Tanner with him again. Furred paws gently massaged his legs as Casey nuzzled his crotch. Paul put a hand atop Casey's head and slowly pushed him back; it took all of his strength to say it: "No."
"Just relax, Paul... I'm not doing anything you don't want." the dalmatian smiled plaintively, withdrawing at the human's request. Casey stood up and moved to the entrance of Paul's room where he had dropped a backpack. The Dog hadn't discussed what it was he carried with himself, but Paul realized that he'd get the chance to find out. Casey knelt down and began unzipping various pockets in it.
The dalmatian rummaged around for a time, the white and black fur of his back rippling and flowing every time a shoulder rose or lowered. Paul huffed, looking away. He realized far too quickly that, between the supple grace of the dalmatian's body, and the remnants of the breath on his groin, he was starting to get hard. Casey was up to something, Paul realized... but he couldn't figure out what. Regardless, he realized that he had to stop it before it began.
"Casey--" his comment was cut short by a jingle from the dalmatian. Rising up and turning to regard him, Casey had a leash attached to his collar, both of the same green color, and appearing to be a matched set.
"So... what do you think?" Casey inquired, posing with the collar and leash, one paw held behind his head, the other up at chest height, holding the end of the leash. The dalmatian leaned against the half-open door, closing it with his bodyweight.
"I think it looks silly." Paul answered, fidgeting with his hands as he admired the dalmatian's sleek body, thin, but muscled, not unlike a professional marathon runner; he idly wondered if Casey's stamina was as good, but quickly dismissed the thought. His mind came back into focus, however, when he felt a strip of nylon pressed into his hand.
"I think that looks even better." Casey crooned, seated on the floor next to the bed, leash trailing from his collar to the looped end held loosely in Paul's hand.
"Hold on a minute..." Paul interjected, looking down at the leash gripped in his digits. He didn't get a chance to finish his thought as Casey rose up in front of him. The dalmatian let his loose pants fall to the ground, revealing a thickened mound of sheath crowning a white, furred sac.
"Put your pants back on." Paul urged, turning away from the spectacle, unable to get the view out of his mind. Despite his reservations, Paul realized, however, that he didn't want to get rid of the image. The dalmatian's sheath was thinner than Tanner's, and slightly smaller, not unlike the dalmatian's build. Like Casey, it was sleek and supple, and-- "god damn it..." Paul huffed. He went rigid as he felt paws at his zipper.
"You don't really want me to stop... do you?" Casey mrrred, and Paul shivered at the sound of his zipper being lowered.
"Yes... I do." Paul attested, though it sounded unconvincing even to him.
"This won't cause a problem between us, Paul..." Casey crooned, and the dalmatian slid Paul's jeans to the floor, one paw gently kneading the firm flesh through his underpants, "Tanner told me there's one thing that you and he don't do."
Paul's head swam at the feel of the dalmatian's ministrations. His eyes rolled in his head and, despite his feelings on the matter, he realized what was happening: Casey really was winning. The Dog's comment, however, did break through his lust-filled haze, "Wha?"
Casey moved forward, spreading his legs as he put one knee then the other onto the mattress on either side of Paul's hips, and the Dalmatian sat down in his lap. Paul felt his cloth-covered erection brush up against Casey's furry sac, but his attention was drawn more prominently to the dalmatian's eyes, which hovered right in front of his, black nose pressed against his own, "Tanner's been inside of you... but you haven't been inside of him... have you?"
"No... I haven't..." Paul relented, swallowing a knot in his throat as he felt the front of his underpants dampen; he was leaking with excitement despite his reservations, "Dogs don't like that, I thought."
The insides of Casey's ears flushed red slightly as he looked down and away, "Well... I would never let another Dog do that to me... I mean... for one, I'm way too in control with other dogs and... well... second... a knot? I mean... get real." he chuckled, "But a human... oh god... with your blunt tips, and your thickness, no knot, all smooth and--" the dalmatian shivered atop Paul, "I've fantasized about that a lot." The young man felt a warm, slick spear of flesh slip out onto his abdomen as an embarrassed grin spread across Casey's muzzle.
"So... you mean... with all the humans you've been with, none of them have ever--" Paul paused at that, wondering if Casey was all bark and no bite. Had he really never--
"What do you mean, 'all the humans'?" Casey questioned, "I may have wanted to... but this is the furthest I've ever got with one of you." a nervous giggle escaped the dalmatian.
Letting out a breath, Paul gave Casey's leash a yank. Almost as if by reflex, the dalmatian obediently rolled off to him and flopped out on the mattress beside Paul. "Stay." he directed to the Dog, who, with curiosity spread obviously across his muzzle, nearly vibrated in place at the opportunity to be given direction.
"Yes Sir." Casey noted, a huge grin parting his muzzle, tongue hanging out of the side of his muzzle as the dalmatian's firm member bobbed up and down in place with his rapid heartbeat. Paul kept his lubrication in his top drawer. Returning to the eager Dog, Paul took hold of the offered leash again, "Roll over." he directed, a giddy humor filling him as he wondered at the silliness of it, but Casey was all-too-willing to oblige, turning to lay on his stomach.
Paul took a moment to free himself of his shirt, throwing it across the room into his clothes hamper. He shivered at the proximity of the dalmatian, and the all-too-eager wagging of his black-tipped tail and the feeling of his member restrained by his underwear. The young man slid that last bit of clothing to the floor as Casey began fidgeting on the bed, hips humping into the mattress in excitement, tail wagging wildly.
The dalmation became as still as a statue, however, the moment one of Paul's hands gripped the base of his tail. The dog let out a low-toned moan, hips barely able to restrain a quiver the moment Paul slid a lubed-up finger against Casey's opening. The Dog's response only made Paul that more aware of his own eagerness, despite his reservations. Keeping a firm hold of Casey's leash, the young man slowly began to inch his digit into the dalmatian's tail hole.
"Ooohhh..." Casey moaned beneath his ministrations, tail-end rising up slightly, providing Paul with an even better angle. The human slid his digit further in, up to the second knuckle, and slowly began to pull it free. He felt a shift of weight on the bed as Casey propped himself up with one arm, his other paw sliding down beneath himself to begin stroking at his hard member.
"No. Bad dog." Paul grinned, feeling foolish for saying it, but was rewarded by Casey returning to his previous position, leaving the dog's member unattended. He had no real interest in pursuing the Burb Dog game, but he knew where he wanted their interaction to go, and if Casey was about to offer himself to Paul, then Paul was ready to demand the terms.
Removing his finger from Casey's opening completely, he quickly encircled his own flesh with it, slickening his member up. It had been a few years since he was last inside another man, but the absence of Tanner, the stress at work, and the availability of Casey meant that he had a chance to find release. Regardless of how he got it, he realized, he really really needed it.
Casey yelped as Paul positioned his flesh beneath the dalmatian's tail and gave an experimental thrust. The Dog's tight opening barely relented, permitting nothing more than the head of his member within. Casey groaned beneath him "Ow..."
Paul gave the dalmatian a moment to reposition himself amd the Dog spread his legs wider and sliding his muzzle over the side of the bed. "Let me know if you want to stop." the young man said to Casey, gripping the dalmatian's tail tighter as he wrapped another length of leash around his hand.
"You'd make a great Leasher." Casey crooned, slowly pushing his hips back against Paul's.
"Ngh." is all Paul replied, thrusting powerfully into the Dog to end the discussion, making the dalmatian yelp, and he felt Casey's insides clench around his invading member. He relished the sensation of it, knowing it wouldn't take him very long to fulfill his desire as his flesh was washed with the Dog's body heat within the tight confines.
"Ohhh..." Casey shuddered, slowly lifting the front of his body up, paws placed firmly on the mattress as he remained on his knees in front of Paul. The human smiled at the position: "Doggy Style". The humor of it was not lost on him, and he looped another length of leash around his hand, forcing Casey to raise his head up slightly, pulling against Paul's grasp as the collar forced the Dog's body back into the human's groin.
Paul began moving his hips, making short, powerful into the dog. He added more power once Casey's opening was stretched to accomodate him further, all the while, the dalmatian continued panting and whining, occasionally murmuring half sentences of "finally happening...", "so good...", and, later, "almost there...". It was after the final whimper that Paul felt Casey's insides begin to spasm around his length, and the dalmatian started to pull even more forcefully against the collar, practically looking like he was choking himself.
Casey let out a whining rasp, muzzle screwed up in a curious expression Paul could only catch a glimpse of through the mirror on the side of the room. The dalmatian's paws clenched down on the mattress, and, with no further warning, Paul felt a rhythmic roll of muscle contractions massage his member deep within Casey as the Dog loosed jet after jet of ejaculate onto his sheets.
"Ooohhhhhh ffffuck..." Casey groaned, the sound of the first convulsion of his member slapping his stomach as it sprayed out its first blast almost hid the sound of the doorknob to Paul's room turning. The dalmatian's whimpering cry at the continued release came close to covering up the creaking of the door hinge as it opened. But nothing Casey did next could possibly have drawn Paul's attention away from the stunned and shocked expression of Tanner as he gazed through the doorway at them. "Paul?"
Paul jumped up from his desk, the lamp light attached to it scoring a glancing blow on the back of his head. "Paul..." Tanner's voice called again. He quickly turned, rubbing his wounded scalp. Tanner was leaning in the doorway to his cubicle, a half-bemused expression on his muzzle, "Did I wake you?"
It had been a long time since he'd fallen asleep at work, and even longer since he'd had a dream like that. The young man fought hard to avoid shivering. He shifted his stance, aghast that his body really was excited even after he woke up, "Long day." he answered, looking around his cubicle, "Really long day." He remembered the photo-shoot, and going to lunch with Casey. They came back and finished the shoot up late. Paul had gone back to his desk to finish up some of his paperwork... but that was all.
"You okay?" Tanner asked, taking a step into the cubicle, a slight indication of concern present on his muzzle.
"Yea.. bad dream." Paul noted, more than willing to acknowledge the comment and complete and total truth.
"Well... let's get going... I'm off early tonight, and I figure we can grab some dinner." Tanner offered an encouraging smile.
"Sounds good." Paul noted, half distracted as he gathered his things. The curiosity of seeing Tanner at his work place caught up to him, "How did you get in here?"
"Oh... doberman at the front door let me in."
"Doberman?" Paul paused, and he felt his heart renew its rapid beat, "Um... business suit?"
"Yea... he seemed to know who I was too... directed me right over to your cubicle." Tanner shrugged, and smiled warmly, "I didn't know you talked about me to your coworkers."
Paul barely heard the comment, numbly heading to the door beside Tanner, "Do you... think maybe you could call me before coming over in the future?" he inquired, glancing around at the mostly-empty office. Almost everyone had gone home for the evening, and anyone staying late wasn't paying him any attention.
"Sure." Tanner responded, looking at him, "Did I do something wrong?"
Paul shook his head, "No... it's just... my coworkers don't really know about... well... us."
"Ahh..." Tanner nodded knowingly, "Alright... I'm sorry." and he leaned forward, touching the top of Paul's forehead with his muzzle.
"I'm sorry too." Paul responded, but he didn't bother telling Tanner what for... it didn't really seem to matter that much anyway. It was just his mind playing with him. It was a dream. It would never happen. Paul continued reminding himself of that.
He exchanged a pleasant goodbye with Alric, who was seated on the stairs inside the front door as they passed. The executive provided a friendly enough farewell, offering Tanner a "Nice to meet you." The two existed onto the street, and proceeded down half a block on foot. Paul didn't manage to notice the figure peering out at them from the second story window as he and Tanner shared a kiss before making their way off to the parking garage.