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"Guilty"

by Calypso

Author's Note: Please take this story with a grain of salt. It explores topics I myself have no experience with, and therefore, there might be some inaccuracies. My only request is that my readers focus more on the message of the story and less on the minute details. Thank you, and I hope you enjoy. -Calypso

I remember my first day. Everyone remembers his first day. It's an experience that is impossible to forget.

As I walked down that cellblock, following the guards who were leading me to the cell I would call home for the next fifteen or more years, it was as if I were walking through a parallel universe where there was only men, all of them wearing the same slate blue outfits, all of them jeering and calling, all of them malicious. Each face appeared to be that of a demon, of a devil who'd steal my soul if given half a chance. I swallowed, as if that'd force my soul back down my throat, confining it just as I was to be confined.

"Mmm...sweet, sweet new meat..." said a rough voice, and my eyes twitched left, spotting a middle-aged and muscular cougar, who was grinning at me, looking at me as though I were his favorite candy. I had known when I was convicted that I was going to be everyone's favorite candy for a while. That is, assuming I lasted.

I was absolutely mortified. I tried to keep my eyes ahead, tried to block out the calls, but they kept coming.

"Hey, pretty bitch, hope you're ready for a real man!" said one.

"Look at that tight little Fag! That Kid is mine!" called another.

I wanted to scream and run. Or vomit. Or die. If any of those had happened, I would have been happier for it.

I walked only a few more steps, and there it was: my cell. I never thought in a million years I'd be thinking those words to myself, but a million years can be such a terribly short time.

"In you go," said Sergeant Smith firmly, who had unlocked the door-the bars-to admit me. I simply froze, my eyes glassed over, my expression blank.

He rolled his eyes and pulled me into my cell by the arm, locking the door behind me before I even knew I'd moved. I heard him say, "Play nice!" And he laughed. He actually laughed at me.

And there I was, in my cell. It was maybe fifty square feet, bunk beds on the left, toilet and sink on the right, and two boxes against the back wall, along with a tiny writing desk. Everything was gray. Nothing had color or life or meaning.

I could feel my cellmate looking at me, but I didn't want to see him. I didn't want to know who would share this hell with me. I'd see his face every day for the next fifteen years if he had a sentence as long as mine. What was a few minutes?

He continued to look, but I stared at the wall, trying to will him out of my peripheral vision. I'd never felt more in shock, more absolutely hopeless, than I did then. Even when I'd had to listen to the jury foreman say the word "guilty."

Finally, I decided it couldn't be avoided, and I turned my head slowly to the left, where my cellmate was lying on his bed, a worn paperback book folded on his chest.

I tried desperately not to react, but I jumped a bit. He was probably the biggest man I'd ever met, and he wasn't even standing. He was a wolf, just like me, and yet so much the opposite. While I was around five-foot-ten, he looked to be more like six-six. I had tawny reddish fur; his was pitch black. I was twenty-four at the time; he looked to be in his early thirties. I had long, loosely wavy, thick hair that I'd colored a light blond; his hair was as black as his fur, and cropped short. My frame was slight, supple, and toned, the body of a gymnast; his build was massive, sheets of muscle pounded in slabs over each part of his overlarge form.

But there was one striking similarity. We both had piercing blue eyes, and his were boring directly into mine.

Neither of us spoke. I was so terrified that my knees shook, my tail quivered. He was my worst nightmare. If he wanted me-for anything at all-I had no chance. I would have to submit, to obey. Not this again, I thought.

He was sizing me up with his eyes, though he never looked anywhere but my face. I wasn't sure what he was looking for as he gazed at me, but it began to worry me. I'd been transferred to the state penitentiary just after lunch, when inmates were confined to their cells for a couple hours before being let out into the yard. I, of course, wasn't familiar with this schedule yet, but I shook at the sight of someone so intimidating.

After a few more moments, which felt like hours, I began to panic. All of my shock and terror was rising to the surface, and before I knew it, my back was pressed against the wall next to the sink, and I was in tears, shaking violently. I pleaded in a whimpering voice, "Please don't hurt me, please...I'll do whatever you want, just please...please..." I was begging, begging for my life, and this wolf, who had a chiseled jaw and an equally angular face, had yet to do or say anything.

As I broke down further, crying and crying, he slowly eased himself up off of his bunk, standing at his full height over me. This small action, so normal, paralyzed me with fear. He stood over me by eight horrifying inches, and he was three times wider than I'd ever be. It looked as though he spent his time in prison exercising, and little else.

Then, he spoke. "Name's John Shade. Everybody calls me Shady." His voice was impossibly deep and rich, resounding in the cell with force and presence. The sound of it only amplified my hysteria, confirming how strong and large he was. "I'm not gonna hurt you. But you better watch yourself, 'cause those guys out there are going to want you real bad." Finally, his eyes drifted over my whole body, and he looked at me in the eyes again, without giving a reaction. "You're small, and with that pretty hair, you'll be a prime target, Kid. Be careful." And then he lied back down and continued to read, as if I hadn't even come in the cell at all.

I slumped down to the floor, crying and crying, thankful that my cellmate was kind enough to leave me be, but terrified by what he'd said. I knew it'd be like this, but I didn't know how scared I'd really be.

I probably sat on the floor crying for the better part of an hour, but Shady didn't tell me to shut up, or even so much as look at me wrong. He just kept reading, a quiet giant, one paw tucked behind his head, the other holding his paperback, so small compared to the mass of his black paw.

Finally, I got control of myself, and I hauled myself up onto my bed, lying down, wanting to sleep for days. However, I didn't get the chance to do much.

There was a loud buzz, and the cell doors, which were controlled by switch, opened, clanking and rattling as they went.

I sat upright, fear in my heart once more. I hadn't realized that the cells could be manually unlocked as well as operated by remote switch. Now, all of them were open. Now comes the suffering. Now comes the pain.

"What's happening?" I asked frantically, feeling the bed move as Shady's weight shifted.

"We got free hour," the hulking wolf said simply. "Then we got count, then clean up, then dinner. Then, it's free time from six-thirty to eight. Then showers are open from eight to nine. Then count. Then lights out." Shady had a slow, deliberate way of saying things. It seemed likely that he never said anything he didn't mean, and he never said anything more than what was necessary.

Free hour? I thought to myself. I'm going to die.

Shady stood up, and was at the cell door when I screamed, "WAIT!"

"Yeah?" he said, eyebrow raised, blue eyes observing me like a hawk.

"Can I come spend free hour with you?" I pleaded, scrambling out of bed. I figured the wolf's size was intimidating to more than just me, and he'd said he wouldn't hurt me. Maybe he'd help me instead.

He kept looking at me, again as though sizing me up. I was standing in front of him now, begging with my eyes to be protected, and he simply judged me for a while. I felt like he was a giant lie detector or something, always able to spot falsehoods or misgivings in people.

"Okay," he said very minimally. The resolute way he looked at me was odd; it was as though he'd never been asked a question like I'd asked him, and it'd taken him a whole lot of thought to decide.

"Thank you!" I said with relief, following right on his heels as he exited our cell, falling in line with the others as we made our way outside to the yard.

When we were filing outside, no one said much. But, as soon as the inmates felt the breeze in their fur, as soon as they felt the sun on their faces, they came alive. Conversations could be heard all over, games of basketball and weight lifting adding their own noise to the din. And as I followed Shady toward the fence, watching the wolf pull a cigarette from behind his ear and placing it to his lips, I could hear the jeers toward me again. Only this time, they were a bit different.

"Hey Kid, see you found a Man!" said one guy, a fierce-looking jackal with a scarred face. "Fuckin' Shady, you lucky son of a bitch!"

"Hey Shady!" called a rugged lion, who was leaned against the fence in the direction we headed, "Can I borrow your Fag tonight?" He laughed, then grabbed his own crotch, massaging it a little as he looked at me. My throat closed in on itself, and I gagged a bit from terror.

Shady didn't respond to either of these men, or the others who commented about my new alliance with him. He just kept walking, leaning against the fence and lighting up, inhaling and exhaling without a care in the world. He wasn't looking at me or anyone else; he kept his eyes out of focus, almost in a dreamlike state.

Eventually, the catcalls and jeers stopped, and the inmates went back to their free time, clearly bored with trying to get a reaction out of Shady or me, though certainly not done with me.

As Shady smoked quietly and I watched him, I couldn't help but think that he must really be a loner. No one said "hi" to him, other than calling lewd remarks about me at him. No one shook his paw or offered to include him in a game of cards or asked him to spot them. In fact, there was kind of a five-foot radius around the man that others didn't seem keen on entering.

Without a word, he slipped his paw in his pants and pulled out a cigarette and a book of matches, offering them to me. I didn't smoke, but I didn't want to offend him, either. I was desperately praying that if I stayed by his side, and if he was true to his word about not hurting me, that I'd be safe. At least, a lot safer than if I'd been on my own.

I took what he offered and put it to my mouth, inexpertly lighting the smoke and taking a drag. I willed myself not to cough, and was thankfully successful. I pawed him the matches back, but he waved them away, letting me keep them.

"Why do people seem scared of you?" I asked bluntly. I was never one for subtlety, and I immediately regretted the question. I knew that I should tread lighter, make more of an effort to go about things his way. But I was curious.

He thought for a moment, and it was becoming apparent to me that he definitely didn't say things he didn't mean, because he always gave careful thought before speaking. "They don't like me because they know I can hurt them bad," he said slowly. "And I don't like them because they're a bunch of scumbags."

I was awed by him. The way he said things so matter-of-factly, so "this is how it is," was captivating to me. I'd never met a man with that kind of honesty.

"They think you'll hurt them because of...?" I trailed off, not wanting to say "your size." It sounded rude to me.

"They know I'll hurt them because I hate them," he said without malice. I didn't know if he actually could get angry, but I didn't want to find out what he was like if he could. "Before this dump, I was an instructor and master in Karate. I owned my own dojo before I was arrested." He didn't sound bitter at all. He just used that calm, deep, even tone I'd heard him use since I met him.

"Wow," I said simply. Not only did he have an impressive build, he had skills to back it up. That notion was even scarier, and I was stunned into silence for a minute or two, just contemplating how easy it would be for Shady to break me if he wanted. I supposed I'd better not get on his bad side. But, he said he hated every single inmate. Did that mean...?

"Do you hate me, too?" I asked softly, staring up at him. I didn't know what his criteria were for hating someone, but if he hated everyone, I didn't see how I should be excepted.

He thought again, flicking his cigarette butt and exhaling his last drag. Then, he said, "No."

I sighed a little, glad to at least hear I wasn't going to be on the man's shit-list. But that just made me more curious, so I asked, "Why all of them, but not me?"

This time, he really didn't have to think. "Because they're all arrogant, proud, self-serving motherfuckers who would stab you or rape you as soon as look at you." He turned and finally stared me in the eyes, that piercing gaze that seemed to penetrate into my brain. "You're not like that. You're..." he searched for the right word, never taking his eyes away from mine. "You're innocent."

Again, I was stunned into silence. Innocent? I stood there, Shady looking at me, me looking at him. I was about to ask what he meant, when he interrupted me.

"What's your name?" he asked.

"Addison. Addison Carver," I answered. I don't know what it was about his eyes that held me there, but they did. And he never seemed to want to look away either, the way he'd stare at me for several minutes at a time.

"I'm gonna call you Edge," he said. "Sounds tougher."

"Okay," I replied, taking it in stride. I was beginning to trust him, despite my fear. He still scared me right to my core, but he also had a way of making me feel safe. In the couple hours I'd known him, this man had already shown me great kindness. He'd allowed me to stand by his side, knowing full well that no one would touch me while I was there. He'd tolerated my chattering and answered honestly. He'd given me a new name to help me assimilate into what would be my new life. And I said to him, "Shady?"

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Can we be friends?" I felt totally stupid for asking such a question, especially because I didn't know the man. I felt like an eight-year-old, and the question seemed totally ridiculous while standing in a prison yard full of convicts.

He pondered for a moment, finally taking his eyes away from mine. I thought that was a "no," but he surprised me. "Yeah, I think we can." He turned back to me and smiled at me, and I was finally able to see him as a person, not just a huge, hulking threat or walking protection. His smile warmed his whole face, made him downright handsome. I saw his tail twitch between his legs a little, and I smiled, too.

"Good," was all I said.

"Want to lift with me, Edge?" he asked me, nodding his head toward the weights, which had just cleared. Apparently, the guys using them had gotten bored and decided to have a smoke.

There was something I hadn't yet heard in his voice. Excitement maybe? It made the rich baritone sound much sweeter and younger, and I replied, "Sure."

The rest of free hour went great, surprisingly to me. I spotted for Shady while he benched, which was ridiculous. He had such great control that he'd never need a spotter in the first place, and even if he did, he was benching about my weight and then some, so it isn't like I'd be the guy to do it. However, it was nice to have someone to be around, even though we didn't talk much.

Then, we were all ushered back to our cells by the Corrections Officers, or CO's as everyone called them, to be counted. Once we were locked back in, CO's came down the line and counted each of us; the process took a while, especially since they had to add up the full total at the end. Finally, we heard "Clean up!" over the intercom, and it was time for us to wash our paws, tuck in our shirts, and look decent for dinner.

This decorum seemed a bit odd to me, given that we were in prison, but I didn't say anything. I just sat on my bed and watched as Shady trimmed his beard hair back to the length of his fur, splashed his face with water and dried it, washed his paws, and brushed himself off.

"It's all yours," he said, and went to sit on his bed. I knew he'd watch me the same as I watched him, but my routine ended up being a bit different. I splashed my face and washed my paws, like him, but I didn't trim my beard, as it hadn't grown any, and I ran my fingers through my hair, smoothing and shaping the blond ripples.

"Y'know," he said as I tucked in my shirt, "it's that hair that's got everyone going."

My brow furrowed, and I gave him an incredulous look. "My HAIR?" I repeated, picking up some strands and looking at them, as if I might be able to decipher the reason.

"Well, you've got the cute little body, sure, but the hair...it's dyed, isn't it? And it's all long and shiny." He said these things as if they were an explanation, and I blushed when he said 'cute little body.' He didn't mean it as a compliment, he'd said it as bluntly as ever, but it still embarrassed me. "Makes you look like a girl."

I thought about this for a moment. That had been the intent anyway when I decided to grow my hair out and bleach it blond. I'd always been a decidedly feminine guy, and only now was it biting me in the ass. "Do you think I should cut it?" I asked, sighing a bit.

He immediately replied, "No," which surprised me. Then, he said, "I like it."

Before I could get completely embarrassed again, there was the loud buzz that pierced my ears, and a man's voice over the intercom announcing, "Dinner!"

As we filed out of our cells, I kept myself right behind Shady, my ears and eyes on constant alert. As was the case earlier, no one bothered me much when I was in such close proximity to him.

We made our way to the Chow Hall, and as the inmates lined up to get their dinner, it was nearly dead silent. I looked around, and saw the reason: The Chow Hall was swarming with CO's, more than I'd seen anywhere else. Forks and knives, I thought. Possible weapons.

When I was served my food, my lip curled reflexively. My best description of that dinner would be oily noodles with soggy vegetables and some kind of gravy stuff. Yes, gravy STUFF. Not pleasant.

Shady led the way to a table near the windows, which was nearly empty. The large hall was full of very long, picnic-style benches and tables, only they were fiberglass. At all of the tables, inmates sat elbow to elbow, eating quickly, but at this one, the right end was almost empty. As we sat down, my body practically knit to Shady's, no one sat within that five-foot radius. It was weird and harrowing. It made me feel that Shady must have demonstrated a few times just what deadly weapons his fists and feet could be.

As I took my first bite-silently, just like the rest of them-I was at least happy that the food was bland enough that it didn't upset my palate. However, my stomach grumbled uncomfortably at the texture of it. I had to eat it. I knew I'd regret it if I went hungry for the night.

After the oddly quiet dinner, everyone filed out of the Chow Hall, and we were free to roam the block, including the recreation floor. Inmates weren't allowed into the yard at night, and for good reason, I thought.

Many inmates lined up just outside the Chow Hall at a window where it looked like a cashier was sitting.

"What's that?" I asked Shady, gesturing.

"Commissary," he replied. "Guys hate the food here, they're probably getting something good to eat. Maybe some jerky, or chips, or something." I looked up at him, and for the first time, he looked a little down. "All I can afford is cigarettes, for what I make working. I don't have any family to put money in my account."

I didn't respond; I didn't know how. I suppose it made sense that prisoners would have money, I'd just never thought about it until it concerned me. I had been told that I'd be working in the kitchen as my job, for which I'd be paid thirty cents an hour. I'd never heard of such a ridiculously low wage, but I suppose when you're in prison, you can't expect medical insurance and a comfy salary.

I got some more jeers, some more catcalls as we walked through the recreation floor toward a small table that sat empty. We sat across from each other, and Shady asked me, "What d'you want to do, Edge?" He looked a bit more relaxed than I'd seen him thus far, and his mouth looked like it'd turn up in a smile much easier. Maybe he was just getting used to me?

"I dunno," I replied. "What are my options?"

"Well," he said, pulling a cigarette from his pants and putting it to his lips, then gesturing at me for the matches he'd given me, "could play cards, or go back to the cell and read, or something. There's a weight room here if you want to work out some more. I'd love to get a TV one of these days, but I can't afford it, and they charge fifteen bucks a month for cable, too. That's practically my whole salary, just for cable!" He chuckled; it was a little bitter sounding, but it was still a nice sound coming from him.

He lit his cigarette with a match from my matchbook, took a couple drags, then offered it to me. "Last one," he said.

I took it in my fingers and took a drag, still looking at my cellmate, and suddenly, I thought, Huh, this is like we're indirectly kissing. I choked on the smoke in my throat and coughed a few times, pawing the cigarette back. Being a gay man had led me to silly thoughts like that before, but this was a totally different world, and I needed to be a lot more careful, even with my thoughts.

"Cards," I coughed finally, smiling at him. He puffed away, pulling a battered deck of playing cards from his shirt pocket. I'd noticed the bulge there earlier, but I had assumed it was more cigarettes or something.

"These puppies have gotten me through a hell of a lot of solitaire," Shady said with a grin, dealing us some cards. "Five card draw," he added.

Hearing him talk about how lonely he was kind of saddening. I wasn't sure what he was in for, or what he'd done to scare the other inmates away (a little Karate ass-kicking, maybe?), but he seemed like a totally nice-albeit intense and blunt-guy to me.

I glanced at my cards, withdrawing two and sliding them to him absently. "So, Shady...um..." I mumbled, trying to find something to say. I really was trying to be a good friend by learning more about him, but I didn't know what to ask. "How old are you?" I queried.

"Thirty-two," he said simply. Most people always followed that number with a "Why do you ask?" or "What does it matter?" or some other ridiculous nonsense. Not Shady.

"How...how long have you been here?" I asked tentatively. I didn't want to breech the subject of why he was here, or any of that. I knew I didn't want to talk about my reasons, and I wouldn't ask him his.

He pondered, tossing three of his cards and dealing himself new ones. "Five years," he said, and his expression kind of fell. I quickly decided that I'd better steer the conversation in a nicer direction.

We laid our cards out. I had a flush, he had two pair. "So what do I win?" I asked, smiling at him.

He smiled back at me. It felt like our eyes had rarely been anywhere but on each other all day. "All I got's my company," he said warmly. "If you want it, that is," he amended. That was the first time that Shady had expressed a bit of vulnerability to me, and it warmed my heart. Why was he so alone here? Was the reason because he WASN'T a dick?

"Course I do," I said back.

Something passed between us then, something warm and tingly and meaningful. A bond of friendship, real friendship, had formed, and for the first time since I'd come to prison earlier that day, I felt myself relax just a little.

"Mmm mmm mmm!" came a gritty, rough voice. The lion from the yard had sauntered over to our little table, and he was looking me up and down like I was something to tasty to eat. "Hey Shady, I like your taste," he said, brushing my hair off my shoulder and leaning toward me, sliding his paw on my back. I froze up completely, so terrified that I couldn't move, and my wide eyes said to Shady, "Help me!"

"Damn, aren't you a pretty little bitch," the lion purred at me, then put his lips to my neck, making me tremble in fear, my eyes beginning to well with tears.

Shady stood up quickly to his full height, not saying a word, not making a sound. Just standing was enough intimidation for the lion to back off completely.

"Okay, I get it, I get it, you ain't sharing," he chuckled wickedly, his voice making my skin crawl. "If you change your mind and you want to lend the Kid out, I'd be more than happy to take him off your paws." And with that, he strutted away.

Shady sat down again slowly, his expression tense and angry, his arms jutting away from his body a bit, paws in fists. I'd known the man just a few hours, but he already seemed very protective of me. Thank fucking God.

Tears were rolling down my cheeks, and I was shaking. When I'd been convicted, I knew that rape was almost certainly going to be a reality for me, given my build and my age. It was my number-one fear about going to prison, and that lion had made it all incredibly vivid and horrible. He wanted me, just like that jackal in the yard, and that cougar from when I was walking to my cell for the first time. And half the men in this prison. I'd never wanted so much to be invisible, or ugly, or hugely fat, or something less desirable to these convicts. I'd never craved to be a nobody any more than I did now. Not that these things would save me, but they'd probably reduce the number of inmates out to make me their bitch.

"It's okay, he's gone now," Shady said in a comforting voice, as one might to a child. With his baritone, it sounded so soothing. And, for the first time since we'd met, it looked like we were going to touch. He reached out one of his enormous paws slowly, as if showing me that he wasn't going to hurt me with it, and softly put it to my cheek, rubbing away the stream of tears with his thumb. His paws were amazingly warm, and had a rough texture against my fur that suited the big wolf's look and personality. My trembling stopped, and I was able to regain my voice.

"Thanks," I said quietly, nuzzling into his paw a little. None of my friends on the outside had ever stood up for me in such a way, and I'd known them for years. This man was a great guy, and I hated that we became friends under such awful circumstances.

He pulled his paw away after patting my shoulder a little, then folded his arms, studying me once more. "Your eyes get kind of green when you cry," he stated frankly.

No one had ever noticed that but me. Of course, I'd never really had much reason to cry before prison, so it was a rare occasion when I did, but I had noticed that change. It amazed me that he saw it now.

"Yeah," I said simply.

"Want to go back to the room?" he asked. I liked how he didn't call it a cell, probably to make me feel a little better about the situation I was in.

"Yeah," I said again. I wanted so much to be alone with him, rather than around all of the inmates. I was starting to develop an attitude toward them, the same as him. I didn't want to talk to them or be around them.

By the time we got back to the cell, we had about thirty more minutes of free time before the showers were opened. Shady offered me one of his books, but I declined. He didn't read either, once I said I didn't want to. He actually started talking to me, which I knew was hard for him, given that he rarely began conversations. But he made small talk with me, and we learned more about each other. Where we were from, what we'd done before being locked up, likes, dislikes, music, hobbies, all sorts of things. Before I knew it, a loud voice was calling out cellblock numbers in order to shower.

"There's a lot of guys in this prison," Shady explained to me. "We gotta shower in rotation. There are six blocks, ten minutes each. We'll be up third."

"Shady, I'm...I'm really scared," I said to him quietly. We were sitting together on his bed, and I could feel my face fall into a forlorn expression. "Being naked in front of these guys? I'm...I'm gonna get raped, I know it..." I tried not to get all emotional again, but it was a difficult struggle to reign myself in.

He stared down at me, pity in his eyes, and took my chin in his paw. "Look at me," he commanded, though I already was. "That's not going to happen while I'm around, alright? I like you, Edge, and I ain't gonna let anything happen to you."

I smiled, and then I heard our block announced. I whimpered, but otherwise stayed silent as Shady got up and went to his little box, pulling out a bath towel (which looked a bit ratty) and some soap.

"Edge, don't worry. The stories of dropping the soap don't happen very often. There's gonna be CO's standing right outside the showers." Shady had a calm and even tone to his voice, and he even cracked a little smile at me.

I tried smiling back, but failed.

As I followed him out of our cell and into a line of inmates in a direction I hadn't yet been, I shuddered a bit. The line was more or less quiet as usual, and before I could blink, we were standing in an all-tile vestibule, and all the men were taking their clothes off. I was visibly shaking now, which some of them noticed.

"Mmm, let's see that little faggot body!" It was that damn lion again!

"Don't worry, baby, the REAL men won't hurt you...much," said an otter with a ridiculous number of tattoos, dropping his boxers to the floor and showing off his nakedness right in front of me.

I turned away, and thankfully, I was right next to the counter where we'd leave our clothes, not having to look at anyone else.

"S'alright, Edge, just calm down," Shady mumbled in my ear soothingly. He stripped his uniform shirt off over his head, tossing it in one of the dirty laundry bins, then pulled off the tank top he had on underneath. I watched him for something to focus on, but before I knew it, I had a hard time looking away. His massive build was beyond impressive; all of his muscles were sculpted like stone, shaping him in ways that people on the outside envied. I supposed to myself that if they knew what it took to achieve this body, they wouldn't be so envious.

I found myself able to move, if only to copy Shady. Once he'd pulled his uniform top off, I did the same, tossing it in the same bin. He folded his tank top on the counter, I put my t-shirt next to it. He pulled off his shoes and tucked them under the counter on the floor, I sat my significantly smaller pair right next to his. When he took his uniform pants off and tossed them in the bin, I hesitated, but did the same, still shaking like a leaf in an autumn breeze.

When he hooked his thumbs in his boxers and started to push them down off his body, my breath caught in my throat like a lump. I was so scared of doing the same, so horrified at the notion of being naked in front of all these men, most of whom had already started their showers, that I felt I'd hyperventilate. Just a few months previous, I would have been excited to have been in a communal shower with a bunch of naked guys who had nothing better to do than work out all day long. Now, that notion seemed ridiculous, downright absurd.

I felt my eyes travel, in spite of myself, down Shady's body, the hulking wolf neatly folding his boxer shorts on top of his tank top. He had a big scar on his chest that ran at a diagonal, and it didn't look too old. His pecs were massive, like his python arms and dinner plate paws. His abs were amazing; they were the area where all of his working out showed the most, each muscle a lifeforce all its own. And his package...God, was I thrown off. I felt myself shake even more. Looking at Shady's huge soft cock and low-hanging balls just frightened me even more, reminding me of what was in store for me if I was ever out of the wolf's protective gaze.

Tears rolled down my face for what seemed the hundredth time that day.

Shady looked into my eyes in his way, and I instantly felt a little bit better. He had that look like he was studying me, and he said, "Don't cry, Edge. You're okay. But you gotta hurry, we only have about five minutes left." He gave me another of his warm smiles, and I felt my limbs move. He gave me just enough strength to bend over and pull my underwear off, though I didn't bother neatly folding them like he had.

"I'm scared," I told him as I followed him to the doorway to the showers. I looked back to see the backs of two CO's, but that didn't comfort me much. It felt more like a barricade than protection.

"I know, buddy, but just be calm and follow my lead. Try not to look at anyone, and make sure you do exactly what I say. Remember, they all think you're my bitch." He said this without emotion, so blunt as always. "Probably be best if we do stuff to keep making them think that."

When we walked into the steamy enclosure, I kept my eyes focused between Shady's big shoulder blades, finally able to drown out the insults and threats. I realized that the only showers left were all the way at the back, so we had to walk the whole length of the showers to get there. Ignore, ignore, ignore, I thought. And I was successful for several feet.

Then, I felt a big paw slap my ass as hard as it possibly could, and I jumped and yelped, spinning wildly to see what had happened. The jackal from the yard was standing there, not as cut as Shady, but certainly much more powerful than me, scrubbing at his balls, his long cock standing at full attention, a wicked grin on his smug face.

"I know you want that shit, Kid," he laughed and winked, wiggling his dick at me in a taunting way.

Suddenly, they were all laughing at me, and I felt my tail droop between my legs, my emotions on the brink of another breakdown.

Shady side-stepped me to stand in front of me, blocking my view of the jackal. He loomed over the smaller canine ferociously, and though I couldn't see his face, I knew he was livid. "Did I just see you touch MY property, Dominguez?" he asked, his voice a deep growl.

"Yeah, so what Shady?" the jackal named Dominguez replied, though his voice didn't sound as assured as it had a moment before. "Y'all need to learn to share that piece of ass."

Before I could blink, Shady had Dominguez's wrist in his massive paw, and he was bending it at an extreme angle. The jackal winced horribly in intense pain, looking like he wanted to scream, but couldn't. I was staring, wide-eyed and shaking as usual, as Shady said, "No, fucker, I don't need to fucking share. That bitch is MINE, and the only fucking paws on him are going to be mine." He released the jackal, who crumpled to the floor, massaging his wrist.

I couldn't even make sense of what had happened before I was being led to a shower and had the water turned on for me, Shady's big black form right next to me, scrubbing himself down with soap very quickly.

I hadn't bought soap or a towel yet, so I just stood there under the water, staring at the wall. The shower room was silent, except for the flow of water, which was eerie with so many men packed in.

I now knew why Shady was so alone: because everyone really was afraid of him. He'd nearly snapped that jackal's wrist in an instant; Dominguez hadn't even had time to react or defend himself. Shady's skills were deadly, and for the second time since I'd gotten there, I felt afraid of the wolf.

In maybe forty-five seconds, Shady had already rinsed himself off. I turned my head to see him properly, and was surprised to see him looking back at me. His expression looked...sad? No, I knew what it was. His expression was apologetic.

He took a step toward me as he clearly mouthed, "I'm sorry," no sound escaping his lips. Then, quick as a flash, he had my upper arm in his grip, though it wasn't uncomfortable, and he was scrubbing my back with his left paw.

I'd never been washed by someone else, especially not in the presence of a huge group of other men, and I felt humiliated. Why was he doing this to me? My eyes shut tight, and though his rubbing of my back was vigorous, it was gentle, and it felt good.

Then I realized what he was doing. He wanted it to look like he was scrubbing me really hard, like he didn't care, but he was actually washing me softly, and with great care. I knew exactly what he was doing. He was showing the other inmates that I was his property, and that he wanted me extra clean, by his own paw.

I was panting a little, my breathing quick and shallow from embarrassment, shame, and so many other emotions, my eyes stinging with the dryness that came from crying too much. I turned my head to the side a bit, and I saw many of the men were watching Shady wash me, eyeing us without reservation as they scrubbed their balls or rinsed off.

Suddenly, Shady's big paw left me, switching the soap to his right, and then it was back, gripping my left hip firmly. His right paw, meanwhile, rubbed over my lower back and around the base of my tail, and I felt my expression crumple, my face dripping into sadness and ignominy. I knew what was coming, and it took every ounce of courage I had not to cry out, to start screaming and weeping, or to ball myself up on the floor.

As he held me tight in his powerful grip, I leaned forward against the wall, exposing my ass to him. Make it quick, I thought. He leaned into me a bit, which I imagined looked sexual or dominant to the inmates; it was a gentle, reassuring motion, like a hug. He whispered into my ear, "I'm so, so sorry Edge." Then, his soaped up fingers washed down the crack of my ass and all the way around to my taint, the slightly rough pads tickling my hole a bit. I was ashamed to be treated like an object, to be washed in front of these lunatics, especially since I could see that some of their cocks were hardening at the sight, a few of them stroking them without reserve, watching me hungrily. However, I was more ashamed that when Shady's thick fingers rubbed at my hole and stroked down my taint, it felt incredible to me, a tingling, pleasurable sensation that threw my senses for a loop.

Thankfully, this part was over as quickly as it'd begun. He scrubbed down my legs next, then did my whole tail, working extremely quickly. I knew there was only about a minute left, but I didn't worry that I'd walk out dirty. At least, not physically dirty.

He spun me around in a rough way, but from the deft movements of his paws, I could tell he was fully in control, and that if something was rough, it was only for appearances. He washed up my thighs and scrubbed my balls and cock, which was thankfully still soft, despite the sick pleasure I'd felt at being touched by the hulking naked wolf. At this point, I heard a couple grunts, and I saw some guys cum down the drain. To think that someone had masturbated to this, had gotten off on watching me be humiliated and treated like some object or plaything, made me ill. I closed my eyes after that, not wanting to see some of the raging boners that were still pointed at me, or the crooked, evil, lustful smiles.

The soap was in my paw in seconds.

"Wash your face, bitch!" Shady said somewhat loudly. He was acting. He never spoke loudly.

I came back to myself, and was able to act, also. "Yes, sir," I said obediently, trying to look forlorn at the idea of being given an order. It wasn't difficult, because I was hardly acting. I scrubbed my face and hair very quickly, then rinsed them, not caring if I did a good job. Just as I felt that the shower experience was going to last forever, that I'd be tormented and abused for life, I heard a voice.

"Time's up! Move out and get dressed!" called one of the CO's at the top of his lungs. All the water turned off in an instant, and the naked men filed back out into the vestibule to dry off and dress.

No one harassed me, and I was glad for it. I didn't know how much more I could take, with my only friend having just sexually assaulted me. I saw Dominguez give me an angry look, then glare at Shady, but he didn't say anything.

Shady dried me off just as he'd washed me: quickly and thoroughly. He kept looking around the vestibule, as if daring for someone to make a remark. By this point, I kept staring at the wall, not able to look into a single face without feeling the most horrible humiliation. Shady then dried himself, his ratty towel soaked, and we slid our underclothes back on. At the door, the guards were waiting with new uniforms, which were sorted by number. As each inmate reached the CO upon exiting, he'd recite his number, and he'd get his clean uniform. I didn't know my number yet.

In a weary, yet jittery way, I poked Shady in the shoulder, getting his attention. He looked at me with doleful eyes, and I could tell he was really ashamed of how he'd touched me. That sad look was enough to make me realize that he'd hated what he'd done, but that he couldn't see any other way to reinforce his "claim" on me to the other inmates. I tried to give him a small smile, and I said, "I don't know my number yet...should I go to the end of the line?"

He returned my small smile, though his eyes still looked sad. "Yeah, let's both wait till last."

And so we did. We watched as all the others filed out, received their clean uniforms, and put them on. Most just put on the pants. Some had even brought sweats with them instead. When I came up behind Shady to get my uniform, the last inmate, I put the whole thing on, covering up as much as I could. I hadn't noticed earlier from all of my tunnel vision and fear, but we were allowed to wear what we wanted during free time. It seemed like everyone was wearing the uniform during meals, though.

"It's free time, right?" I asked Shady softly. I felt really awkward around him now. I'd only met him a few hours previous, and he'd already stood up for me, protected me, become my friend, then molested me. There was a whole whirlwind of feelings going on inside me, and all I felt like doing was lying down.

"Yeah, but fuck these assholes," Shady replied, and he gave me another of his warm, gooey smiles. Those smiles just made his face look amazingly handsome, and I melted a bit. "Let's go back to the cell."

"Okay," I agreed, smiling back. He'd been my friend all of half a day, and he could already read me. He knew what I needed.

As we walked back to our cell, for the first time since I'd arrived, I didn't hear a single call, a single jeer, nothing. It was as though I blended in, or didn't exist at all, which is what I'd wanted the whole time. It was nice, however fleeting.

When we got back to our cell, Shady plopped on his bed and patted the spot next to him, that sad look in his eyes once more. He wanted to talk.

I started nervously combing through my long, artificially blond hair, seating myself beside him.

He turned his body a bit toward me, not touching me at all. I could tell he didn't want to overstep any boundaries, or to make me feel uncomfortable. At least, more uncomfortable than I already did.

"Edge, I am so, so sorry I touched you," he said genuinely, his ears curling back, his black, shiny nose twitching. "After Dominguez slapped your ass, I..." he paused, thinking again, trying to use the right words. "I fucking lost it. That's why I hurt his wrist, and that's why I...why I washed you..." The great wolf sighed, looking down at the floor. "I've never done anything like that against someone's will. But once he touched you, all I could think of was how to get all of them away from you, how to protect you. So I made you mine."

I was silent for a moment. I'd stopped combing through my hair. Though he'd only confirmed what I'd already believed to be true, it really helped me to put the situation in perspective, and helped me to get over my feelings of humiliation to focus on why he'd done it.

The way he tensed when talking about Dominguez, and the heartfelt tone he used when he said he wanted to protect me touched my heart. He really seemed to care about me. The question was, why? What was it about me that made him like me, made him want to save me?

"I forgive you," I said easily, and I put my paw to his face. His fur was as soft as cashmere, and as he looked at me, his eyes pierced me again with their intense gaze. "I know you weren't trying to hurt me, I could feel it. You were making it look rough, while being really gentle. And I appreciate you protecting me."

"Thanks," he said simply.

We sat there and just looked at each other for a little while. I'd never met anyone that I felt comfortable just looking at like this without having to say something. It was enthralling.

Finally, I got up the courage to ask him what was on my mind. "Shady, why are you so kind to me? Why, after hating everyone here, have you become my friend, and protected me so well?" It was amazing not having to think about how to word something with him. I knew if I said it bluntly, as he did, he'd understand, and would never be hurt, or offended, or anything of the sort.

He thought about it for a moment, still staring into my eyes. "There's something about you that reminds me of someone...someone who I loved. You're...innocent," he said again. The second time he'd used that word to describe me that day.

The second time I'd felt the complete opposite of "innocent." I wasn't innocent. I was guilty. I'd been sent to prison because I'd committed a crime. But I didn't want to talk about why I was there.

"Oh," I said, smiling again. "Who was this person? Your girlfriend?"

"No, he was a guy," Shady replied quickly.

"Your brother? A friend?" I asked, my paw on his shoulder now.

"Not quite..." Shady mumbled. He was still looking in my eyes, but his were a little bit lidded, not quite as alert as usual. I recognized his expression; it was one of longing.

'Not quite' was the most vague thing Shady had said that day, and it worried me.

He was leaning toward me a little. We were already pretty close, so proximity was getting tight. I could feel his eyes on mine like they were lasers, and his body next to me made me shiver. His warmth, his breath, was all around me, and in a flash I was back in that shower, and he was rubbing my hole with his fingers, washing the day away.

I jumped about a foot, feeling a familiar swelling in my underwear, and stood up, asking abruptly, "Got any good books?" My voice was probably twice its normal volume.

Shady's face went through a few expressions. First it was confused, then recognition set in, then it was a touch sad. Then, it went stony, as it'd looked when I first met him, and he said, "Help yourself."

I didn't want to hurt him, I really, really didn't. And in the few hours I'd spent with him, I'd felt a connection that I hadn't felt with people I'd known for years. But I'd been through so much in such a short period that I was already overwhelmed, not adding kissing my cellmate to the mix. I wasn't ready to feel things like that for anyone.

I sat down next to him again, and we were looking at each other again. "I'm sorry," I said quietly. I leaned in close and wrapped my arms around his large body, and I instantly felt safe, his warmth and his scent making me content. For just a moment, he'd been too surprised to react. Once he'd felt me against him, however, he gripped me even closer, not caring that the positioning was awkward because we were sitting, not caring that at any moment another inmate could walk past our cell and see us hugging. He gripped me with an affection and fervor I hadn't known before.

After a minute, we pulled apart, and I gave him a small kiss on the cheek. "You're amazing, trust me, Shady. I mean, you have no idea how happy I am that we're friends. I was so scared when I came here, and I'm still scared. But I know that by your side, I'm safe, and that makes me really happy," I explained, trying to express how I felt. "But this is my first day in prison. Prison. That's...that's a lot...to take in..." I said very slowly. When I said the words aloud, it just made me realize it all the more, and I just felt like crying again.

"S'alright, Edge, it's my fault. You're just really damn pretty, and sweet, and kind, and I've been so fucking lonely..." he said to me warmly, running one of his paws through my now nearly dry hair. "But I'm glad you're here to be my friend. That's all I could ask for."

No one had ever called me pretty before. Everything he'd said just made me want to cry more. I was getting annoyed with myself at how often I wanted to cry that day. I felt bad for him and touched by him, on top of everything else I was already feeling.

"Thanks, Shady," I replied. "I'm glad I'm here to be your friend, too. And I'm glad you're my friend."

And for the rest of the night, we sat and talked. We talked about ourselves a little, but mostly, we talked about life, about love, about friendship. As we sat next to each other, chatting away, he left his massive paw on my thigh, and I rested mine atop it. It was comfortable, it was natural, and it felt really good. After count, we were locked back in our cells for the night. And as the prison got very quiet, I tried to sleep, but my mind was racing. Eventually, I started crying again. Not just crying, sobbing deeply, bereft of any comfort, though being as quiet as possible. I was frustrated with myself for shedding so many tears, but I couldn't help it. I had hit rock bottom. I was incarcerated for the next fifteen years. Pardon me for mourning, I thought to myself.

"Edge?" Shady had whispered after about ten minutes of muffled sobs. "Come down here."

I don't know what made me do it, but I listened. I got down off my bed and looked at him. He was propped on his elbow, lying all the way back against the wall, and he was holding up his blanket, motioning for me to get in bed with him. My brow furrowed, and I sniffled, not sure what to do. But, his expression, the gesture, all pulled on my heartstrings, and I succumbed, slipping into bed with him, his overwarm, overlarge body molded snugly against my back. The firmness of his muscles made me feel his strength, while the softness of his fur and the gentle way he wrapped his arm around me expressed his tenderness. I could even feel his big package pushed against my rear, but it didn't feel like a sexual gesture. Rather, it felt like just one more warm, friendly part of him, ready to take me in and comfort me in my time of need. And as I lie there in his arms, my back against his front, facing into the cell, I cried for twenty minutes more, cried and cried for my lost freedom, for every time I'd feared for my safety or my life that day, for every mortifying insult or disgusting sexualized gesture I'd received. I cried for the horrible, disgusting food I'd had to eat, and for the way my cellmate had had to sexually abuse me just to keep me safe. I cried for wanting so badly to kiss Shady right now, but simply not being capable of doing it. And eventually, the crying stopped, and I was able to rest easy for about thirty minutes before Shady sent me back up to my bed to sleep.

The following months were just the same. Day in, day out, it was more or less the same. We had count several times a day, breakfast, work, therapy, free time, class, what have you. My schedule consisted of work and Shady. Shady's job, however cliché, was stamping license plates, so that was the only time we didn't see each other. However, work was a time when I could feel safe, because during our shifts, there were CO's literally everywhere. I got harassed more at work than anywhere else, because there was no Shady to hear it, but I just tried to ignore it as I cooked.

Everyone called me Edge, now. I had made a few friends at work, some of the other smaller guys. One, named Robbie, was only nineteen years old, and he belonged to some bear on a different block than me. Everyone knew him as a Punk; in other words, a young guy that's really resistant to being someone's bitch, but eventually gives in. I had to learn the entire prison lingo, and I learned fast.

Everyone still called me Kid, or bitch. Being a Kid was just like being a Punk, only without the resistance. I was young, but as far as these guys knew, I'd "hooked up" with Shady right away to protect myself.

Another guy I was friends with at work was named Birch, but whenever his man was around, I had to call him Melanie. Everyone called him Melanie, because he was a "wife." Basically, during free times, his man would make him dress up in a skirt and a tube top made from old t-shirts, high heels, and put "makeup" (Kool-Aid) on. His hair was nearly as long as mine, which made me think of what Shady had said about my hair being attractive to the men. Birch was a Dalmatian, maybe only five-four or five-five, brown eyes, brown hair, real thin. I felt sorry for him, because in exchange for not getting gang-raped or stabbed, he was raped every night by his man, who turned out to be the cougar who'd checked me out when I'd come to the prison for the first time. When I recognized him, Birch had said to me, "Yeah, he said that when he saw you, you looked so pretty and sweet that he wanted to trade up. Couldn't wait to break you." The expression he'd worn was a horrified one, mirroring my own. I knew part of him was glad, though. If the cougar had traded to me, that would mean that Birch would've been easy pickings.

Shady's and my relationship had really grown. We talked a lot, spent all of our time together. He got me to start working out, so I was much more toned than I'd been coming in. He sometimes would still molest me in the shower, to make sure everyone knew that I was still his. We'd play cards, we'd laugh. I went with him when he got his hair cut every other Friday.

On the second day I was in prison, my mom came and visited me. She told me she deposited a few hundred dollars in my account, so I could buy things at the commissary and survive. She'd used my own money that I'd had in my checking account, so it was felt okay-if she had used her own money, I wouldn't've touched it. That had been a really difficult, emotional, insane visit, but I was glad something good could come out of it.

The second visiting hours were over, I rushed to the commissary and bought a whole bunch of shit. Toothbrush, toothpaste, soap, towels, sweats, and tons and tons of food. And, as a special surprise to Shady, I bought a TV for our cell, which we hooked up to cable and sat on the little-used writing desk in the very corner. It was only about fourteen inches, but it was entertainment, and we spent tons of our free time just lounging and watching together.

At first, Shady had been very resistant to me buying him things. He said it made him feel helpless, or like a mooch. I told him that his friendship was payment enough, and bought him more food, more clothes, whatever I thought he'd need or want. My mom continued to make regular deposits into my account, and I spent it. Why not?

Despite the necessity of Shady feeling me up in the shower every so often, we hadn't really gone down that road since my first night. We remained good friends, and with me around, Shady really opened up and became a much happier wolf. However, I thought about him all the time, regardless that I was sitting right next to him.

I knew we weren't normal friends. He'd kiss me on the cheek, or hold my paw, or we'd cuddle in bed after lights out, and neither of us would think anything of it. In fact, it was entirely natural. I'd read in a book one time that 'it was so natural, it was like breathing,' and that's exactly how I felt about Shady. And since that first night, I'd wanted to kiss him every single day. But I didn't. Lately, I'd wanted to do more than kiss him. But I didn't.

Then, one day, he surprised me. I'd just gotten off of work, after which was clean up and lunch. Usually, when I exited the kitchen, Shady was waiting for me to escort me back to the cell. He wasn't there this time.

I looked around, but everyone was making their way back to their cells. The CO's were shouting, "Clean it up!" I figured Shady must have gone back to the cell, and I didn't have the option of hanging around to find out. I made my way to my block, then my cell, following the other inmates, many of whom ignored me now. Only a few were still persistent, frustrated that they hadn't gotten a crack at me when I'd first come.

"Hey Edge, if you ever get tired of that skanky wolf dick and want some real fuckin' meat, I know how to keep a little faggot like you nice and safe," Reynolds sneered at me, grabbing his crotch and licking his chops. Reynolds was the lion that had harassed me so much on my first day; apparently, he found it amusing, because in three and a half months, it was nearly a daily occurrence. The ironic thing was, I knew his type. On the outside, he'd be a huge closet homosexual, acting tough and homophobic and then going to some boy's house to fuck his ass or his mouth. But here, only bitches and sissies were queer; tops, or "real men," as they preferred, weren't gay. Completely backward, hyper-masculine thinking.

I ignored him, as I usually did. I don't think he'd ever heard my voice. Reynolds' massive size aside, he was part of the Shangers, a pretty ruthless gang in our prison that prided themselves as being "top dogs," so to speak. I wasn't about to fuck with the likes of them by saying a damn word. Other gangs fought with them, but they lost. The Shangers reigned supreme, and they knew it. I'd wager that's why Reynolds wanted me so much; he probably felt entitled, and it pissed him off that Shady, the most feared man in the prison, was my protector.

Reynolds had hardly a few seconds to glare in my direction at my silence before we were separated, making our ways to our own cells. I rolled my eyes a little when he was out of view, thankful that I didn't have to be around him often. He'd become a nuisance more than anything, though a terrifying nuisance.

As I rounded the doorway to my private little cage, it was clear Shady was there. Half a glance would tell you if my cellie was home or not; he was so big and black that he dominated the tiny space, filling the whole thing just with his presence.

"Hey," he greeted, grinning at me. He always looked happy to see me after work, which I found amazingly sweet. His big, fluffy, thick tail even wagged a bit.

"Hey," I said back, leaning against the bed rail. I had been stirring big vats of tapioca pudding for a while, and I was a little tired. "You weren't there when I got off." I said it plainly, without a hint of a question.

We gave each other 'our look,' studying each other. I'd taken to this habit of his myself, finding myself lost in his eyes, in his expressions, in his mannerisms, just by watching him for a few minutes. It was an intriguing thing, surveying someone so closely, especially someone you spent so much of your time with. Three months together, twenty hours a day, and watching him hadn't gotten old at all.

The hustle and bustle of the prison died down as people made it to their cells, and within a minute, there was a loud buzz, and the cell doors all slammed shut. Clean up meant a half hour of confinement before lunch.

"I got something for ya," Shady said, slowly extending his huge right paw, which had been tucked behind his back. I'd gotten so lost in his expressions that I hadn't noticed.

I looked down at his paw, and my heart melted. Everything I'd bottled up for three months threatened to come to the surface, and I felt myself starting to get very emotional. There, jutting out of that big, strong, black-furred paw, were a few delicate, beautiful white daisies.

I held my paws out, and he gently placed the flowers in them. I hadn't seen flowers in months, and it made me want to weep. Yeah, seeing them on TV is one thing, but holding something so lovely, something from the real world, was priceless. Thankfully, I'd gotten a lot better control over crying and getting all mushy since my first day.

"Where did you...?" I asked, trailing off, unable to finish. I just kept looking back and forth between the pretty little things in my paws and the huge, handsome man that had given them to me.

"They were growing just outside the fence at work, so I snatched 'em. When I saw 'em, I thought they were really pretty, and I thought of you." His smile widened a bit. What a mother-fucking charmer, I swear.

"Shady, I...thank you so much! I love them," I replied gratefully. I offered my arms to him, showing him I wanted a hug, and he did something he'd never done before. He bent down like he normally did to hug me, but instead of the usual hug, he pulled me up in his arms, gripping me to him with tenderness and affection. I held on to him as tightly as I could, my feet dangling several inches off the floor, and I sighed contentedly, giggling a bit at the way he could get so zealous with his affections toward me.

"I love you," he whispered in my ear. I froze completely, my eyes wide with shock, but before I could even react, before I could respond, he'd set me down again, though kept his grip, and bumped his muzzle against mine, his surprisingly tender and soft lips pushing warmly against my own. It was a gentle, affectionate kiss that outright stunned me. But after maybe half a second of the hulking wolf's mouth against mine, of his arms around me, of his scent enveloping me, something clicked. My eyes slid closed, and I reciprocated his kiss lovingly, delicately for a moment, which he seemed to enjoy. Then, I was gone. I was being swallowed by feelings I'd had since day one, feelings I couldn't suppress or reason away anymore. With a slight tilt of my head and by moving my arms to wrap around his thick, muscular neck, I had a much better position to show him how I really felt; in one smooth motion, my muzzle pressed against his much more insistently, easily prying it open. My tongue slipped out of my mouth and into his, tasting him, probing spots I'd only dreamed of, curling and dancing with his own much broader, longer tongue. It was an experience unlike any other kiss, and not just because it took place in a prison cell. I could feel my whole body tingling, every strand of fur on end, every part of my body molding to him, tailoring to his movements and form.

When he realized just how far gone I was, just how much care and feeling I'd put into my responding kiss, I think he lost it, too. Suddenly, he was gripping me fiercely, adoringly, and his paws were all over me, trailing down my back, gripping the base of my tail and tugging on it affectionately, rounding over my butt and squeezing it with a grip that communicated a starved desire, a craving that hadn't been sated in ages.

We stood there kissing for probably ten minutes, both of us breathing deeply through our noses, both of us getting a bit heated; well, that was an understatement. I'd maybe gotten an erection a dozen times since coming to prison, and it was usually after lights out, when I was by myself in bed, or occasionally when Shady was cuddled up behind me. This was nothing like those times. My cock was throbbing, aching even, and everything about my cellmate seemed incredibly sexual when his lips were tightly sealed against mine.

One of my ears flicked and turned involuntarily. I could hear the noise level starting to go up a bit. That meant it was nearly time for lunch.

Shady must have heard it too, because he slowly-and extremely reluctantly-pulled away from me, though not before giving me about five or six closed-mouth kisses. It was like he needed to wean himself off of me before he could look at me properly.

Then, we were face to face, staring at each other once more, and I don't think I'd ever felt more shy and embarrassed. When we'd been kissing, holding each other, everything had felt so amazing, everything had taken me over. But now, I felt as though I'd been the one confessing my love. It felt like my whole heart was on the table. I'd never been the type to lay it out there like that, to just let down my walls and my guard and love someone, but I just had, and despite the vulnerability, it felt incredible.

He gave me another delicious kiss, and my attempt not to melt failed. I was putty in his very able paws.

"Guess it's time for clean up, huh?" he said, smiling bigger than I'd ever seen him smile. God, he's so fucking handsome, I thought to myself. Why'd it take me so long to show him how I felt? Why'd he have to instigate it?

We looked at each other a few moments longer. Then, he turned to the sink and rinsed his face. He trimmed his beard quickly, as usual, and tucked his shirts in, making himself presentable for lunch. He even ran a comb quickly through his hair.

"Well, it's all yours, baby. Hurry up!" he said, still grinning. He sat on his bed and looked at me, happy as a clam, and I continued to stare at him, at a loss. The way he'd called me 'baby' was so casual, like he'd been doing it for years, and I loved it. I hoped he'd always call me 'baby' now.

I sat on the bed next to him, and before I knew what I was doing, it was done. "I love you," I said to him point blank, my eyebrows set a bit determinedly. I'd never outright said that to anyone but family before. With boyfriends I'd had, it'd been, "Me too!" or "Yeah!" whenever they said it to me.

He touched his nose to mine and reached a paw up to run it through my long hair. "I know, baby," he said quietly. "You just needed a little help coming out with it." He sounded so confident, but I knew he was right. I'd loved him for a while. We'd loved each other. He kissed me again warmly, then briskly said, "Now clean up! Hurry!"

I obeyed, washing my face, combing my hair, trimming my beard a bit, and tucking in my shirts. Just as I took my paws out of my pants, my hard-on thankfully having softened by this point, there was the usual buzz, and the voice said, "Lunch!" over the intercom.

Lunch that day was really quite nice. Ever since I'd started cooking in the kitchens for work, every day, at every meal, Shady asked me about each item on the menu, questioning if I'd been the one to cook it. And each item I confirmed as one of my creations, he ate. Today, he left the slop on his plate, but ate every last bite of his green beans, which I'd cooked. We'd have the tapioca pudding I'd slaved over at dinner, and I knew he'd eat all of that, too. It was one of the sweetest gestures I'd seen, and as I looked at it with new eyes, totally in love with the man, I realized that he'd been showing me how much he cared only a few days into my prison sentence.

After lunch, we went to the commissary and I bought us some real food. Chips, ramen noodles, some other things, and we went back to the cell to eat them together. As we ate in silence, smiling at each other, sitting very close, I thought about what Shady had been saying to me since I'd gotten here; he loved me because I reminded him of love lost, and because he found me to be "innocent." I cringed at the word. If he was going to love me, then I figured he'd better know the truth.

"Shady," I said, sighing deeply. This was something I'd been dreading, something I avoided in therapy and tried not to think about. Revisiting the reason I was in prison.

"Yeah baby?" he replied, all smiles. It was as though he used any opportunity to call me baby. Such an amazing man.

"You need to know something about me before..." I trailed, not wanting to say something like, "before we get involved," or "before you're my boyfriend." That sounded so pathetically stupid, so superficial.

"Alright," he said happily, his tail thumping around on the bed a bit. God damn him for being so fucking cute!

Just then, we heard footsteps, and I stood up, sitting at the writing desk and facing away from Shady, acting like we weren't speaking or interacting. Shady had picked up the tattered novel he'd been reading when I'd first met him so fast it was a blur, and by the time a couple inmates walked by, leering into our cell, it looked as though its occupants couldn't be any less interested in one another. When we heard them walk away, sufficiently sure they'd gone, I sat down with Shady again. We couldn't afford for people to find out we actually really loved each other.

"I need to tell you why I'm here," I said seriously, as if we hadn't been interrupted.

"No you don't," he responded firmly. He was looking into my eyes with intensity and passion, and I could tell all he wanted was to kiss me and hold me and make me shut up about this subject. But I wouldn't let him. He had to know.

"Yes, I do. You're always calling me 'innocent'... It's why you like me so much, you said it yourself." He looked as though he might interrupt, something he'd never done before, but he thought better and shut his mouth. "But I'm not innocent. I'm here because I'm guilty."

"Yeah, says some jury," he scoffed.

"They got this one right, Shady. Do you know what my sentence is? Why I'm here?" I asked.

"I think you said fifteen one time," he replied warily. He looked a little confused, like he wasn't sure why I found this so important.

"Yeah...for manslaughter," I added, sighing deeply. I tried to be calm, to breathe deeply. This was something I'd cried over, screamed over, talked about too much.

"So you killed a guy on accident or something?" he asked me plainly.

"I should be in here for murder, Shady," I said hoarsely, emphatically. "I stabbed a man to death seventeen times with a chef's knife."

The big wolf-MY big wolf-just looked at me, thinking again. He was always thinking. His smile melted off his face, and he stared at me. He didn't say anything, so I decided to continue.

"I'm not innocent like you always say," I sighed a little, blinking a lot. "I'm guilty. I killed a man, and I deserve to be here for life."

He continued to stare at me, examining me closely. The silence persisted for minutes, and it made me uncomfortable. I had the distinct feeling that he didn't want to be with me now, and it was crushing, on top of recounting my worst memory to date.

"What happened?" he asked simply. The sound of his voice was generally curious and concerned. My heart started to race as images flooded my brain of a night I'd never be able to forget.

"I was...a couple years ago, I met a guy named Michael. He was a tiger, handsome, charismatic, a real charmer. He'd just gotten out of law school and was starting his career as a lawyer, and he had lots of ambition. He wanted to make partner before he turned thirty." Here, I paused, remembering Michael as he was when I'd first met him. These pictures in my head were such a burden, I just wanted them gone forever. My face felt tight, and I didn't know exactly what expression I wore, but I doubt it was pleasant.

"Everything...everything started happening so fast," I continued. "One minute we'd just met, the next we were dating, then exclusive, then moving in together. Everything seemed so perfect, and I was so happy to have found such a great guy. Then...then I got to see Michael for what he really was." I stopped again, looking down at the floor. I was beginning to feel shame and horror and disgust with myself.

Shady pulled my chin up with his paw and kissed me lightly, sweetly, encouraging me to continue with his eyes. I couldn't help but give him the smallest of smiles, cute as he was.

"When we'd first started dating, Michael would order my dinner for me, and he always picked the meal and the venue, even if I didn't like it. At that point, I thought he was just a gentleman. When we moved in together, he started telling me how to dress, what to say, where to be and how to feel. He was so controlling, so demanding...everything had to be his way, everything had to perfect."

Shady nodded, but his expression was getting grimmer by the moment.

I found myself pushing the words out, forcing myself to keep going and going. I began to talk faster and faster, as if I feared that if I slowed, I'd stop altogether. "At first, he just yelled a lot. Then, once, he slapped me. Then it just wasn't once anymore. He punched me after that. Then he kicked me in the stomach a different time. And then he flat out just beat me when I didn't do something to his standard of perfection." I was crying again, tears rolling over my cheeks quickly, and my breath was erratic. I just kept pushing the story out. "He beat me once for burning his dinner. He kicked me in the stomach until I threw up when I forgot to clean the bathroom. And...and he got the angriest..." I choked, really sobbing now. I was stuttering, trying to force this story out like a malevolent spirit, and Shady looked murderous. "He got r-really mad...if I ever refused him s-s-sex... He'd punch me in the face and squeeze me so hard I'd b-b-bruise...and he'd...he'd r-rape me...he'd rape me so hard I'd be bleeding for hours..."

Shady growled, and he looked beyond livid. But he didn't say anything, and he didn't move. He encouraged me with his eyes. He wanted me to be able to talk to someone about this, even though it was enraging him.

"One night, h-he came home, and he was in a r-really good mood... He'd been working hard on this case at work, and it was going well... He seemed so nice then, so normal... He'd kissed me and asked me how my day was, and he flipped through the mail while I cooked his dinner..." I gulped, trying to remember how to breathe. "And then he found it. I'd gotten a parking ticket when I'd borrowed his car a couple of weeks previous, and though I'd sent in a check right away and never told him, they'd sent him a notice asking for payment...or to disregard it if it was already paid..."

Shady could sense where I was going with my story, and he clenched my paws tightly, his jaw seizing. He looked like he was going to snap, which frightened me out of my wits.

"He...h-h-he fucking lost it..." I cried, looking down. "He grabbed a rolling pin from the drawer...and beat me in the side of the head...before he even asked me about the ticket." I was near hyperventilation, but I had to get it out. Almost done. Almost done with this horrible, horrible nightmare. "When he asked about the ticket, I admitted it...What could I do? I said I didn't think to tell him because I didn't think it was a big deal... That was a m-mistake..." I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears pouring out of me rapidly. "He said I didn't think to tell him because I didn't think at all...that I w-w-was...was a stupid idiot, a good-for-nothing whore...a m-moron who c-c-couldn't read the...the l-l-little numbers on a parking m-meter..." My whole body was shaking now as I remembered vividly how Michael had stood over me as I lay on the floor, my head bleeding, my senses woozy, my adrenaline rushing. "And he started to hit me with that rolling pin all over...I t-t-tried to run away, but he h-h-hit me right in the b-back... I remember falling onto the c-counter, begging him to s-s-stop, but he...he wouldn't stop hitting me..." I whimpered. "I was so scared then, so t-t-terrified...I'd n-never been more afraid of d-d-death than at that moment. I...I knew that if he'd had the chance...he'd have...have k-killed me. B-but..." I trailed, still looking down, away from my man's face.

Shady drew my chin up once more, trying to get me to look at him. When I finally did, I saw that he had tears in his eyes, too, and that only made me cry harder. If telling him this was hurting him, then I was even worse of a person than I already thought. He stared at me, and though I felt ashamed, I continued.

"But... I grabbed the big knife f-from the block...and before I knew it...I'd stabbed him in the chest." I let myself breathe for a few seconds before continuing. "He...he looked...so s-s-surprised..." I cried, watching the tears roll down Shady's cheeks and feeling as though the world were crashing down around me. "He just kind of slumped to the floor...and...and he s-smiled at me...he SMILED!" I nearly yelled, thankful that most of the inmates were downstairs. "W-when he smiled at me like that, I f-fucking lost it...and I pulled that knife out, and I just kept stabbing and stabbing him until the images of him raping me, beating me, screaming at me, were gone. He was...he was dead, and his blood was everywhere...and...and I laughed...I remember laughing...and I remember thinking, 'I'm free'..."

I was finished, and I stared at Shady, not sure how he'd respond. I was crying, he was crying. It was raw, painful, and exhausting.

Then, he spoke softly, in a pitiful tone I'd never heard him use. "Edge..." he said to me, touching his nose to mine. "Addison," he corrected, and I shivered. He'd never said my real name before, and the sound of it rolling off his tongue was so sweet and delicious. "I am so, so sorry..." His pity made me cry more, his sympathy, his empathy. Suddenly, he was enfolding me in his arms, clinging me to him desperately, and I held on to him, my eyes shut tight. This was the reason that rape was such a horrible idea to me; I'd already lived it nearly every day for two years. This is why I felt horrible every time he called me "innocent;" I wasn't innocent at all, I was guilty.

"Addison," he cooed into my ear, licking inside it warmly. I shivered again, my body responding to his every touch and movement. "My beautiful, beautiful Addison..." He took my ear into his teeth and tugged it, and I felt myself groan sensually, a sound I hadn't made in years. He kissed all over my face, and he licked my tears. He nuzzled under my jaw and bit my neck, and I gasped, my back arching, every nerve on end. I melted in his grasp, a ball of butter in his able paws, and I was his. Every part of me succumbed to his comforting touch, and my crying stopped.

"Addison," he said again, and yet again, I shivered, "you're not a murderer." And he pushed his mouth against mine, and I crumbled, unable to resist him. His tongue was inside me, and his huge paws were gripping me, and I was swept away with the tide.

Then, he pulled his mouth from mine, nuzzling his muzzle against my face, and I regained myself. "How can you say that after what I just told you? I stabbed a man to death..." I sighed, so tired after that long and painful reminiscence.

"You killed a psychopath in self-defense, baby," he said to me, making it sound like he was correcting me, which I suppose in his mind he was. "You protected yourself, and unfortunately, the law was against you. But..." he was speaking at nearly a whisper, "even though I would never have wished you here, I am so happy you did what you did. If you hadn't...you'd...you'd be dead, baby," he whispered, and then he was kissing me again. He didn't want a reply, he didn't want to hear an argument. He wanted me. And though I knew in my heart that I'd killed a man, my guilt began to ease. He'd made me feel his words, and they were honest and true, just like him.

We heard quick footsteps again, and we just barely separated in time before Dominguez strutted by, raising his eyebrows at me suggestively, then glaring at Shady. If I wasn't so terrified and disgusted by Dominguez, I would've thought he was hot. The jackal had streamlined look to his features and body, a tight masculinity that worked for him. But it was all pointless when the idiot opened his mouth. He was a vulgar, hateful, awful person, and he certainly hadn't forgotten his embarrassment from my first day here. Just before he'd completely passed, he gave me another look, and he licked his lip. I closed my eyes, willing him to pass. It literally took him a second to get from one edge of the cell door to the other, but in that second, he'd made some very significant expressions that had made me dislike him even more than I already did.

When we were sure he was gone, I sighed and gave Shady a small smile from where I stood, frustrated with our situation. We had been having a very intimate, private conversation, and we'd been kissing and touching in ways that showed just how much we loved each other. But, this was prison. Nothing was private, nothing was sacred, nothing was intimate. I'd seen things on the inside that no one should have to see. Just on a daily basis, we had to endure watching each other shit, piss, and shower. Every time I had to go to the bathroom, Shady always looked away politely, and I did the same for him, but it was still terrible. I'd seen awful fights, I'd seen someone get stabbed, and I'd seen multiple rapes, once a gang rape. How love had blossomed between us in this place astounded me.

Shady stood up and approached so quickly I had no time to react. He pushed me against the wall and ground his body into me, kissing me fiercely. Each of his movements was so controlled that he never made me feel a single ounce of pain, just a roughness that suggested desire. As he pushed on me, I could feel his half-hard cock in his pants, and I felt my body undulate against him, begging him to take me. I hadn't had sex in a long time, and I'd only touched myself a handful of times in prison. The therapist I saw said I would probably have sexual issues from being raped, because the act of being raped left so many scars. I think she called them "triggers," like if I got touched a certain way, I'd be reminded of my rape and freak out. But the way I saw it, sex wasn't the problem, Michael had been the problem. I'd had perfectly consensual, wonderful sex before him, and I intended to have it now. Besides, how many rape victims got to feel the justice I had felt?

Shady was biting my neck again, and my head was reeling. His massive paws were running up my back beneath my shirt, and I could feel his claws graze my skin. He was so much bigger than me that he surrounded me completely, and I felt myself sink into the amazing abyss that was his embrace.

"John," I whispered to him, tonguing his ear as he had mine. My whisper had surprised him, and in his shock, he bit my neck pretty hard. I yelped, but my hips bucked at the same time, pushing my throbbing package against his. He didn't pause, he just went to kissing up my throat and to my lips. He wanted me right then, right that second, and I had no resistance for him, no willpower to stop it. Why would I stop something I'd fantasized about for months?

A loud noise crushed my fantasies and our intimacy. It was shower time.

We heard the rumble of footsteps as hundreds of inmates made it back to their cells to prepare for the shower. Shady and I got our towels and soap together, grinning at each other all the while, though not touching. With that many inmates around, it was dangerous for us to even look at each other with that kind of smile, but we did it anyway. As we sat on his bed and waited for our turn to shower, we chatted idly, both gazing at each other hungrily. Showering was going to be a challenge; we were more interested in fucking each other than ever before, and we were about to spend ten full minutes in each other's naked presence, with a bunch of other naked men around us. Great.

The showers were fine. Shady and I controlled ourselves, though he did make it a point to scrub me down again, this time nearly fingering me in the process. The inmates didn't find this masturbation-worthy anymore, though a few watched with interest. After all, all of them were surprised that I hadn't been traded for smokes or something yet, so I was still a bit of a celebrity, unfortunately. I was desirable because I was nearly untouched, as far as prison terms were concerned.

On our way back to the cell, Shady went shirtless, which drove me crazy. I'd had to avert my gaze for most of the shower to avoid staring at his sculpted body, but he flaunted it now, enticing me. He gave me a smug smirk when he noticed I was staring at him, too, and I flushed, scrunching my nose at him.

When we got back to the cell, we played cards and talked, just passing the time. After our game, I sat at the writing desk and wrote my mom a letter, something I did every once in a while. She was always eager to hear that I was still okay, as she wasn't able to visit much.

I kept finding it hard to concentrate that night, so my letter took a while. Shady read while I wrote, though of course I could feel his eyes on me when he thought I wasn't paying attention.

Then, he did one of those so-quick-I-miss-it-and-jump-ten-feet-in-the-air-in-surprise motions, slipping behind me and peering over my shoulder. Of course, I jumped, startled at his near-Ninja level of stealth.

"Your pawwriting is pretty," he said simply. Typical Shady. Blunt and amazing.

"Thanks, honey," I said softly, making sure I couldn't be heard by anyone but him.

Just as I signed my name, they called for count. We were all locked in our cells, and they counted us, same old routine. Then, it was lights out.

Shady and I climbed into our beds, both of us waiting silently for first rounds to pass. The CO's made occasional rounds to check that everyone was sleeping, but it was only once every few hours. First rounds were about a half hour into lights out.

After about fifteen minutes of waiting, I heard Shady's throaty deep voice in a whisper. "Addison?" he called, and I swooned. I was still really unused to him using my real name.

"Yeah?" I whispered back.

"I love you," he said, and I smiled in the dark.

"I love you, honey," I said back. It was like a romantic comedy, only in a horrible place where violence, insanity, and rape were day-to-day realities. And yet, even though we had to hide our feelings from everyone but each other, even though we were constantly watching our backs, constantly fearing getting stabbed or attacked, loving Shady was still a thing of beauty to me. It still lifted my heart and made the blood in my veins sizzle.

During the rounds, the passing CO would shine a flashlight into the cell to be sure that the inmates were sleeping, or at least pretending to. I saw the light pass through my closed eyelids, and I held my breath. If I was awake when they made rounds, I always held my breath. It was as though I were afraid of making a movement or sound, as though the CO were some sort of deadly viper on the verge of striking.

The light passed quickly, and I exhaled. We lay there for another fifteen minutes or so, making sure not to hear a guard's footstep or the whispers of our fellow inmates. All was quiet. Then, I heard Shady's whisper again.

"Addison, come down here, please" he respectfully requested, rather than ordered. In fact, Shady didn't often say 'please,' so he certainly was making it clear that I didn't have to go.

Of course, what he didn't seem to realize was that I had been dying to be with him for months. I climbed out of my bed and slunk to the floor, easing under his covers facing him, his body ridiculously warm and alluring.

In one of his startlingly speedy movements, he was atop me, yet somehow much of his weight wasn't on me. I noticed he was propped on his elbows. He put his lips to my ear and whispered so quietly that there was no way anyone would hear, even if they were in the cell with us. "Baby, I love you so much...I was so lonely and full of hatred and anger before I met you. But you turned me around...and damn if you're not the prettiest little thing I ever saw." He gave the inside of my ear a rich, seductive lick, and I nearly moaned aloud. His words were touching my heart, but his voice, his tongue, his mouth...those were touching a different part of me. "I love you," he said again, and I could tell that he wanted to say it as much as possible during the limited time he could, "but you've been through a lot, and I don't want to push you."

He pulled his face back a bit to stare into my eyes, though there was only a very dim reflection from lights outside our cell. In this light, he was more handsome than ever. His chiseled jaw was the peak of masculinity, and his dark fur was a glossy, bottomless black lake of softness. We kissed tenderly, just barely touching our tongues, and I slid my arm between us, stretching down as far as I could, my paw searching for something I'd longed to touch.

Shady pulled out of our kiss right when I found it: his big, throbbing, thick wolfcock. I imagined the shaft I could feel through his boxers was probably nine inches long and thicker than any other I'd seen, a perfectly cylindrical piece of meat with a deliciously curved head. I rubbed at it, straining my shoulder just to reach, and whispered to him, "I love you, John. I want you inside me so bad..." I could feel myself blush beneath my fur and inside my ears, but I didn't care. I wanted him to know exactly what he did to me. And I kissed him deeply, my arms wrapping around his neck, my tongue delving inside him and tasting just how sweet my man could be.

That was all it took. With my words, all of his self-control went flying out the window. Our kiss consumed us both, swallowing us in its fiery and reckless intensity. His hips pushed his shaft into my paw, his body shifting to place his weight on his knees, freeing his arms. He broke our kiss and stripped my shirt off so fast that I didn't have time to recover before he was on me again, probing the recesses of my mouth with his tongue, running his paws over my body with yearning, his fingers always wanting more. Though the space beneath my bed was tiny, and Shady's body was massive, he navigated easily, pressing his muscles and fur and heat against me so powerfully and sexually that I nearly lost my mind with wanting.

Shady broke our kiss again, having barely enough room to rip his shirt off over his head, and I was overwhelmed by his gorgeous body. I'd seen it so many times in the last few months, on more than a daily basis, and yet I'd never really gotten to appreciate it as I did now. He was just about to lean down to push his mouth to mine again, but I put my paws to his chest, stopping him. He gave me a quizzical, silly, wonderful expression, smiling a crooked smile and staring at me with lidded eyes, and all I could think was, He is so fucking CUTE! He hovered there, waiting for the reason I'd stopped him, and I ran my paws down his amazingly sculpted chest, delicately tracing around his nipples with my claws. Shady growled pleasantly, which made me smile even broader, and my paws trailed along his abs, my dick practically pulsating in anticipation and attraction. Before my paws could reach their prize, he was on me again, kissing me, pressing his lips to my face, wrapping his jaws around my neck, gripping me in his arms and holding me tight. He held me like I imagined he'd hold a precious heirloom or a child: delicately, yet firmly, and with the grasp of someone who never wanted to let go. I could feel his teeth prick my skin, and the tension made me moan at a whisper, sounding like I was exhaling loudly.

I lifted his amazing face in my paws and kissed him again and again, nuzzling at his face lovingly and licking his throat. Then, before he could surround me with his affectionate embrace once more, I slid down the bed-or shimmied, rather-receiving another silly-sweet look from my baby. Down and down I moved, and he realized what I was after. I was done with my gorgeous cellmate keeping me away from the one part of his body that I knew he wanted touched.

My fingers curled into the elastic band of his boxers, my body tucked between his legs, and pulled, his hard shaft springing out and resting on my nose. His cock was so warm and thick and long, and it smelled just like prison soap, mixed with his musk-of-wolf; his balls hung low as I slid his boxers down further, and they were as beautiful as his meat, the perfect compliment.

Shady let out the softest of moans as he felt the head of his cock come to rest on my muzzle, and I could hear his chest seize up in an effort to contain his rapture as I opened my mouth and tasted my first couple inches of him. His dick tasted like nothing and everything at the same time, the skin delicately soft, and I teased his slit with my tongue, wrapping my paw around the rest of his shaft and stroking it slowly. He was breathing heavily as I took more and more of him into me, sliding his thick cock past my lips inch by inch, feeling it fill my whole mouth, stretching my jaw open wide. I was only able to take about half his cock in my mouth, so I suckled that half passionately, stroking the remainder with one paw (which didn't wrap fully around) and fondling his considerable balls with the other.

The sounds he was quietly emitting from his throat were driving me wild with lust. The little growls, the soft sighs, the tender moans, all of it made my cock pulsate with desire, my body craving to have him touch it once more. But, I ignored my own needs, sensually caressing his dick with my muzzle, feeling the full head bump the back of my throat, nearly making me gag.

Then, he started to take over a little, his hips easing back, then forward again. I stopped my ministrations and let him have control, my sexy cellmate partner fucking my mouth, each abdominal flexing and extending beautifully, those amazing balls swaying back and forth, back and forth. Having him fuck my mouth was hypnotic, a delicious and repetitive sensation.

With Shady taking over, my left paw decided to travel away from his package and along his taint, rubbing the furry flesh there. Even this space between his legs felt muscled and toned, and while I felt his glans rub along my tongue and the roof of my muzzle, I thought to myself, This wolf is an Adonis.

He gave a sexy little grumble as he felt my fingers trail up and around, my paw pads gently exploring, searching for that soft spot I wanted to touch. Eventually, distracted as I was with a huge shaft stretching my jaw, I located his hole, and I rubbed at it, earning a very quiet whine from my mate that nearly made me cum.

If someone had been standing right outside our cell, they'd barely be able to hear the whispered sounds we made, and yet each noise was louder than a siren, and far more important.

As suddenly as his afternoon love confession, he had pulled me back up to eye level and had started kissing me again, his paws all over my body, claws raking over my skin through my fur, his grip insistent and loving and crazed. His right paw closed around my hard shaft through my underwear, and I had a hard time remembering not to moan loudly, my tongue jutting deeper into his mouth, my arms tightening their grip around his neck. God, was it amazing to be touched by him.

His Ninja stealth proved overwhelming as he shot downward like a bullet, crouching over my lower half and nearly ripping my underwear to remove them. He yanked them off haphazardly, hardly taking a moment to look at what he'd revealed before my thick, seven inches of wolf were sliding past his lips, his huge paws gripping my hips, guiding my cock in and out of his warm, wet, incredible muzzle. I gasped, the sound catching in my throat, and gripped the sheets roughly, pleasure coursing through me like wildfire through a dry forest. Another quick motion of his, and I was nearly bent double, my legs over my head, my ass in the air, his tongue delving into the crevasse as though he were licking the bottom of the bowl of ice cream. The warmth and slight roughness of his tongue against my hole made my toes curl, my fur stand on end, and my eyes shut tight with the ecstasy, his breath hot against the sensitive skin, his huge body pressed up against the mattress above.

He started to slip his tongue inside me, pushing past the tight, pink barrier, and my body seized, my teeth clenched with the effort of keeping my rapture contained. All I could do was whisper as softly as possible, "God, John, I want you inside me!"

He groaned just a bit against my hole, but it was his loudest sound yet, about which I couldn't care less at that point. He sensually rimmed me deeper, priming me for what was to come, and I could see his muscled arm moving back and forth; he must've been stroking his cock while he pleasured me, which only made me want it more. It was like a great tease.

As quick as a flash, he was spitting in his paw and reaching down between his legs, easing my body out of the bent position to push himself between my legs, his hips shoving my thighs apart, his body looming over me once more. Just as I curled my knees back toward myself a bit, offering my ass at a slightly better angle, the head of his cock came to rest on my hole, and his mouth was upon mine again, probing for my soul and finding it in my embrace. He didn't need a paw to guide his huge shaft as he continued to ease forward, and the pressure I felt on my tight entrance was just one more tease, just one more amazing pleasure that I knew would pale in comparison to what was to come.

He pulled out of our kiss and licked inside my ear hotly, the head of his cock beginning to stretch me ever so slightly. I moaned very quietly, just as he whispered in my ear, "Say it again, baby, say my name, tell me how much you want it."

"John, I want that cock so bad," I whispered, not even hesitating, not the least embarrassed. "I want your huge dick in me, John," I repeated. I didn't feel as though I were talking dirty, I felt as though I were speaking from the heart.

He didn't need any more encouragement. He kissed me again, deeply, sensually, and I felt his muscles tense against me as he guided his hips closer, pushing the head of his cock into me slowly. With only saliva as lube, and with the size of Shady's meat, my hole was stinging a bit, stretching to its limit to take my huge wolf. I tried to ignore the pain, focusing my mind on Shady's sweet tongue, his soft lips, the feel of his hair through my fingers, his huge paws gripping at me so lovingly and devotedly, his warm body heat and tender touch. Everything was overwhelming me in the most amazing way; I was so enraptured and elated that before I knew what to do, Shady's hips were pushed against my rear, and they kept pushing, hilting him deep within me, his balls resting against me, his weight on me, his heat all around me.

He stayed there for probably five minutes or so, just kissing me and holding me, touching my body and breathing me in, and I reveled in the sensation of fullness I had, full of his shaft and full of his love.

As Shady started to pull out of me slowly, he retracted from our kiss and gazed into my eyes. Then, when his cock was nearly all the way out of me again, he leaned forward, just a little bit, and touched his nose to mine, staring down at me as I stared back up at him. He began to thrust back into me, never breaking our gaze, and I watched as his face slackened into an expression of sheer pleasure and sensuality-his sex face. I knew mine was doing the same, but I was focused on his. I'd never seen something so beautiful, yet so intoxicatingly sexual at the same time. I bit my bottom lip as I felt him fill me again, penetrating my depths, stretching me again, though this time, without much pain. Pleasure was washing over me once more, and I felt my ass grip down on him, as if to let him know to keep going.

He made love to me so beautifully and carnally, his muscled hips following the musical rhythm of our breathing and our hearts, his shaft delving into me powerfully, prodding places I hadn't known I had, his my slender paws stroking my own dick. The moment was overtaking me, and as he ground into me, biting my neck nearly hard enough to draw blood, I felt my breath stop, and my throat collapsed as I pumped my shaft to climax, the thick, whitish fluid spraying over my body harder and more copiously than I could ever remember, the muscles in my legs aching with the tense way they flexed in orgasm, my hole tightening down on his shaft beyond the strength of a vice. Just as my orgasm was waning, my body still rocking with it, I mumbled into Shady's ear, "God, John," clamping my teeth down on it. With his mouth still around my neck, he pushed into me hard, groaning into me, and I could feel his cock pulsate with cum, his body threatening to break me, but only in the most fantastic way. The feeling of that amazing dick shooting its load inside me renewed my own orgasm, and I writhed in his grip, clinging to him hard, begging God and Buddha and Allah that the moment would last forever.

But in just a few moments, it was over, and his full weight was on top of me. We were sweating, panting, and he was still inside me, but it was the most amazing feeling, holding him there against me, kissing his neck and jaw and ear, whispering to him.

"I love you John," I said softly, and my arms tightened their grip, as if they didn't want to let go.

"I love you, Addison..." he replied tenderly.

When I woke the next morning to the loud buzz I was now very accustomed to, I turned on my side, and there was my man, his head resting on his folded arms, watching me. He had the sweetest smile on his face, and I couldn't see it, but I knew his fluffy tail was wagging.

I glanced at the bars of our cell, saw no one, and kissed him softly.

"I love you," I said under my breath, trying to express it with my eyes as much as I felt it in my heart.

"I love you," he replied.

And suddenly, fifteen years together didn't seem like long enough.