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Truths Behind Dares

---

"Come on, Damien, aren't you done yet?"

Damien huffed as he looked up from his computer for the umpteenth time. There, lying on his bed and very clearly bored out of his mind, was a grumpy-looking grizzly, their eyes locked. Damien tried to scowl, but he never could, not gazing into those nearly-perfect eyes of honey-gold.

Damien always loved his boyfriend's eyes, even when they were narrowed in annoyance.

"Sorry, it's taking so long, Pooh-Bear," Damien said kindly. "I just... I really wanna finish mixing this song before we go out tonight."

The bear sat upright, tossing his Guns&Ammo magazine onto the bedside table. "You've been at it for an hour since I got here. How long were you working on it before I got here?"

Damien giggled sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. "Just a little bit, not too long."

"Come on, puppy, how long?" the bear prompted, grinning mischievously.

"Trent, I'll be done soon," Damien promised. "Just..." He turned back to his computer, sparing a glance at the clock at the bottom of the screen. "Another half hour, okay?"

Trent rolled his eyes as he watched Damien return to his work. Without a doubt, the husky had been working far longer than just the hour since Trent had arrived. Knowing how dedicated Damien Blackwell was to his music, Trent knew that it could easily be another hour before everything was "perfect" in Damien's eyes.

And another hour was far too long to wait.

A sly smirk crossed his face as he lifted himself from the bed, inching almost inaudibly over to his boyfriend's workstation. He could see the virtual mixing board on the screen, the tracks color-coded and appropriately marked: Guitar, Bass, Drums, Piano, Voice. And even others that he was sure that Damien had spent an inordinate amount of time to get just right.

Roughly, Trent grabbed the back of Damien's chair, swiveling it around to face him. Damien let out a yip of surprise, amazed to see his boyfriend's face just inches away from his own. Seductively, the bear gripped Damien's chin, lifting it up to meet his own eyes. The stunned husky was silent, unable to form a cohesive thought as Trent leaned in to kiss him. The kiss was tauntingly short and chaste and when Trent pulled away, Damien felt himself lean forward for a better taste.

Trent leaned over, whispering in the husky's ear. "You know, I think there are better ways to spend your time."

"You... you do?"

"Why don't you come play with me? I've missed you this week."

"I... I will... but... Trent... the song..."

Trent's smile vanished as quickly as a candle being blown out. "That's it? You write a new song every few weeks! Can't this one wait just a bit?! I haven't seen you in days!"

"I know, Trent, but--"

"You know what, forget it," Trent grumbled, stepping away. He walked towards the door, snatching his jacket from atop the bed as he stomped off.

"Trent, where are you going?" Damien called desperately. "Wait!"

"No, you don't want to spend time with me," Trent huffed. "So go ahead, work on your music. It's obviously more important."

"Pooh-Bear, that's not what I--WAIT!" Damien called as Trent opened the door.

"Come find me when you actually want to see me," Trent snarled venomously, slamming the door behind him.

Damien swallowed as the sound petered out around him, stunned into silence. He bit his lip before jumping up and rushing from the room, into the living room... but Trent was already gone. There, seated on the couch and watching another of his crappy B-list movies was his roommate, a mouse named Randall Clyde, who looked up in curiosity.

"I heard that from in here," Randall noted darkly. "Are you two fighting again?"

"It wasn't a fight," Damien answered defensively, pulling out his phone.

"Are you sure?" Randall wondered as Damien began to send a quick, desperate text. "Damien, focus!"

"I am focused," Damien said, eyes still on his phone.

"Why was he yelling at you again?" Randall demanded.

"He wasn't yelling. He was just... I need to see him," Damien said. "Maybe I should call him? Get him to come back so we can talk?"

"Or you need him to come back and apologize for screaming at you in your own place," Randall stated simply.

"Randall-- Oh, wait, he's texted me back," Damien said hopefully.

"What'd he say?"

Damien's ears dropped as he looked up at the mouse. He swallowed thickly. "He just needs some time to cool off. We'll still have our date night."

"Where at?" Randall questioned.

"Probably his place," Damien answered. "Movie night."

"Why don't you guys have movie night here?" Randall suggested. "Might be a bit safer."

"You make it sound like he's dangerous."

"Him yelling at you makes him sound like he's dangerous."

"Randall, it'll be fine," Damien said, putting on the bravest face he could. The mouse's scowl didn't disappear. "Seriously! It's okay."

"I don't like that bear, dude," Randall said.

"You don't know him like I do."

"View must be nice with those rose-colored glasses of yours," Randall snorted. "Bet you can't even see the red flags."

"Randy, trust me. I know Trent. I've known him for years. He's a bit... high-strung. Maybe has a few issues, but it's nothing major. It'll be okay."

---

Damien straightened his shirt as he got out of his car. The sun had set a few hours ago and, beneath a quarter moon and the twinkling stars, he felt strangely invigorated, even as he walked up the pathway to his boyfriend's home. In his mind, he could see Trent now, hurriedly making sure everything was perfect and ready for their date night. For them to spend their special time together.

He knocked once, twice, and waited patiently, heart thumping in his chest. There was the sound of scrambling on the other side. Then the door swung inward and Damien's breath hitched in his throat. Smiling down at him, Trent looked like the pinnacle of masculinity, dressed in a wifebeater and gym shorts, his muscles on full display. His grin looked strangely primal and lustful, and Damien could've sworn his tail was wagging at the mere sight of this beautiful specimen.

"Hey, there, puppy," Trent said, voice deep and powerful.

"Hey... Pooh-Bear."

"You gonna stand there all day?" Trent asked, standing aside. "Come on in."

Damien stepped over the threshold into Trent's living room, arranged so that everything seemed to point towards the large flatscreen, hanging on the wall. Behind him, he heard the door close and lock, but his eyes were focused more on the platter of food served up on the coffee table in front of the couch.

"You made nachos?" Damien asked.

Trent came up, taking hold of Damien sweetly before kissing the husky's cheek. "Only the best for my puppy." He began to kiss Damien's cheek again, then lower, lightly peppering the husky's neck and smiling as a tremor ran through Damien's body.

"Hold on, let's at least watch the movie first," Damien said, pulling away.

Trent frowned. "Fine. What movie do you wanna see?"

"Why don't you pick? And no more westerns please."

"Oh, come on, you know I love westerns," Trent grumbled.

"I know but I just can't... Don't look at me like that please," Damien murmured, frowning at the disappointed look on Trent's face. "Pooh-Bear--"

"No, it's fine, you choose."

"Trent... okay, we can do a western."

Trent smiled and wrapped an arm around Damien, guiding him to the couch. "Thanks, puppy."

If he was honest with himself, Damien would've realized before getting halfway through the movie (and nachos) that he wasn't enjoying the film. He had never particularly liked westerns, but he forced himself to smile whenever he caught Trent looking at him from the corner of his eye.

At least he's happy, Damien thought dully, watching as somebody got shot at a poker table.

Then, he felt something, a paw on his thigh. He looked down in surprise, seeing Trent's light brown paw rubbing his thigh softly.

"What're you doing?" Damien wondered.

"Nothing," Trent answered coyly. "Just enjoy it."

"Trent... I don't really wanna to be teased right now," Damien said nervously.

Trent grinned, showing off those two rows of perfect teeth. "Oh, so you'd just rather go for it?"

"That's not what I--! TRENT!"

It had happened so quickly that Damien wasn't ready for it. At once, he found himself on his back on the couch and Trent looming over him, leaving chaste kisses along his neck, steadily working down.

"Trent, wait, I--"

"You're so freaking sexy, you know," Trent breathed huskily, his paw gripping the neck of Damien's shirt. "Can't wait to get you naked."

"Trent, hey, wait a minute--"

A loud rip reached Damien's ears and he felt a chill across his chest. He gasped, looking down--Trent had ripped his shirt, exposing the white fur of his chest and stomach. His breath hitched as he began to thrash.

"Trent, stop!" Damien insisted.

"Damien, I've been waiting for almost two weeks to get off," Trent said, pausing briefly. "You really gonna give me blue balls right now?"

"Trent... Pooh-Bear, I don't want to-- Hey! Are you listening to me! Stop!"

Trent's paw had gone lower. With a powerful jerk, he had popped the button of Damien's trousers and pulled the zipper apart, starting to reach for the waistband of Damien's briefs. Quickly, Damien tried to reach out with his own paw to stop him, but Trent had grasped his wrist in his powerful clutch.

"Stop it! Trent, please!" Damien begged.

He wasn't sure when or how he'd managed it, but his leg had lifted up in his thrashing. He heard Trent yelp in pain and saw the bear jump away from him. Trent stumbled away, holding his crotch with his paw as he glared angrily at Damien, who scrambled up from the couch.

"You just kicked me in the dick, you fucking asshole!" Trent yelled.

Damien swallowed, his paw keeping a hold of his ruined jeans as he looked at Trent. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, Pooh-Bear, I didn't mean it!"

"I don't care if you mean it or not!" Trent raged. He began to walk, limping awkwardly around the coffee table towards Damien.

"Please, I'm sorry, I really didn't mean it!" Damien said. "Please don't be mad."

"You know what, fuck you," Trent snarled. "This is how you treat me after six years together?!"

"It was an accident!" Damien insisted, tears beginning to well in his eyes. He winced with every step closer that Trent took, backing away until he felt the wall behind him. "I'll make it up to you!"

He felt Trent's powerful grip close around his arm and begin to walk him towards the front door. He stumbled, unable to fully keep a grip on his pants. He felt them slide from his legs and onto the floor but within a few short seconds, he was at the front door.

"Pooh-Bear! Wait!"

He felt Trent force him forward, out the door and into the chilly autumn night. His feet tripped over themselves and he felt himself tumble forward, his jaw connecting with the concrete porch. Ignoring the sudden rush of metallic taste in his mouth, Damien looked back at Trent, who was glaring down at him.

"Go be someone else's bitch," Trent growled, slamming the door.

---

"What the fuck happened to you?!" Randall demanded. Damien had stopped mere inches away from his bedroom door, wincing at Randall's voice. "Where are your pants? Why's your shirt all fucked up?!"

"Randall, I'm okay," Damien answered, turning to face him.

"Your mouth's bleeding!" Randall gasped, rushing forward. Gingerly, he tilted Damien's head, but immediately pulled away when Damien let out a hiss of pain. "Oh fuck, Damien, what happened?"

"Just an argument with Trent. It's nothing, seriously."

"Did he hit you?!" Randall questioned, breathless in his almost unrestrained fury. "Has he been hitting you?"

"I just fell on his porch," Damien answered. It's not really a lie.

"Don't you freaking lie to me, Damien," Randall snarled. "What the fuck happened?"

Damien sniffled. "We just had a bit of a blow-up. I... What're you doing?"

Randall had pulled out his cell phone from his pocket. "I'm gonna call the police. Look at you! You look like he just tried to... Tell me he didn't try to rape you."

"Randall, no. It was a misunderstanding. We'll talk it out later, but please, promise me you won't call the cops," Damien begged.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't!" Randall yelled.

"Because I want to fix things with him," Damien insisted. "Just give me time."

"You had six freaking years with this asshole and you want time?!" Randall scoffed. "You gotta be joking me. You're freaking bleeding! Your shirts ripped, you don't have any pants on... What else am I supposed to think?!"

"That you can trust me to make this okay," Damien remarked. "Just trust me."

"Damien, I swear, if he comes back around here, I'm calling the cops," Randall snapped. "He treated you like crap! And I'm not going to let it keep going. You don't have him here and you don't go to his place. You don't see him without someone else with you.

"

"Okay... Okay," Damien said, sniffing nervously.

"Go get cleaned up," Randall suggested, his voice slightly calmer and more gentle. "There's some pizza in the fridge if you're hungry. And please, Damien... Be careful. I don't want to see you hurt."

---

"HEY, D, HURRY UP!"

Damien hurried to catch up with his friends, barely looking up from his phone. It had been two weeks since he'd last seen Trent and he was desperate, almost praying for a sign that Trent was okay. That Trent would want to talk to see him again soon. But the messages were always the same.

I'll catch up with you later _or W_e'll see or Maybe some other time.

Absentmindedly, Damien walked up to his friends. His thumbs flew across the touchscreen, desperately typing out another text. Probably his twentieth or maybe thirtieth since he'd last seen his Pooh-Bear.

"What's taking you so long?" Randall called from a few feet away. This was the third time they had stopped to let Damien catch up to them on their way to another apartment unit in the complex. Beside him stood a bespectacled gator, Jon Barker, who looked thoroughly agitated. "Are you still texting that dude?"

"Relax, Randall," Damien said, though he still didn't look up from his phone. "I just... need... to tell him..."

Jon huffed and stepped forward. "Alright, that's it!" the gator snapped. With lightning-quick speed, his hand had reached out, snatching Damien's phone straight from the husky's paws.

"Hey! Jon, give it back!" Damien said, reached forward to grab it, but at once, Randall had stopped him, getting between Damien and Jon. "Jon, come on!"

But Jon was tapping away at the screen and a few seconds later, he had handed it back. "There, I deleted him. Stop talking to him already."

Damien's heart sank as he looked through his phone. Through all of his text threads, through his call history. But Trent's name was gone, his number erased. Damien swallowed, trying to stop himself from tearing up, though his voice quivered as he spoke again. "It's not my fault he keeps texting me."

Then, at once, he felt strangely uplifted. Surely, Trent would text him again soon. Then, he could reply. And save the number once more.

"No, but it is your fault you keep responding," Jon answered. He came to a stop and smiled at the number on the door: 809. Jon lifted a fist to knock on the door. "You need this after a bad breakup. Which means you can't be thinking about him all night."

"Easier said than done," Damien murmured, looking hopefully at his phone once more. No new message from Pooh-Bear yet...

"Just relax. Stick with us. You'll get through this," Randall said kindly, gently jabbing Damien's shoulder.

Damien sighed, feeling slightly crestfallen as he pocketed his phone. Needed what? A reminder that his friends hated his boyfriend?

Is he even still my boyfriend? Damien thought miserably. Then, Of course he is! He loves me! He said so himself!

The door opened and a friendly Clydesdale horse grinned at them. "Hey guys, I was wondering when you'd show up! Come on in!"

He stepped aside to let them in and Randall returned his grin. "How's it going, Julian?" Randall greeted pleasantly.

The front door had opened into the unit's living room, which was simple and modest. But Damien's attention wasn't focused on the decor, nor the unit itself, but the stranger lounging on the couch. It was a wolf that Damien had never seen before, in a pair of cargo shorts and a red and white jersey. He held a beer as he watched the football game on the TV, muscular and strangely inviting.

...He's cute...

Calm down, puppy. You've got a boyfriend... right?

But then the wolf's eyes turned to look at them and he smiled at them kindly as he stood and came over.

"Guys," Julian said, "meet Tyler. He's my new roommate."

He's tall, Damien thought in surprise as the wolf came closer. Easily six-feet. And Damien felt strangely dwarfed in his shadow.

"Sup," the wolf greeted in a calm, mellow tone. Damien watched Jon and Randall shake Tyler's paw but he stood frozen, watching as the wolf extended a paw to him. He smirked slightly. "I won't bite."

Damien extended his paw and within seconds Tyler's paw had practically swallowed his own.

"Hi. I'm Damien."