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This was something I wrote while I was trapped inside my house, recovering from eye surgery. No weight lifting, no aerobic exercise, no mowing the lawn or working on cars - what's a 220 pound rottweiler to do but write porn? But as usual, I was compelled to develop the characters along the way, so you've got to slog through twenty pages before you get to the yiff. Sorry about that, but I hope you find it was worth the effort. :-) Since I was virtually blind when I wrote this there are probably quite a few errors in here, so please, if you find any problems please let me know.

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Dox's alarm clock went off way too early. "Surely it can't be six thirty already," he thought, forcing his eyes to open just enough to glance at the bedside clock.

Damn. There it was, proof spelled out in red blinking digits. He reached over with one arm still numb with sleep and tried to hit the snooze alarm, but hit the "off" button instead. "Fuck." he cursed silently to himself. If he wanted ten more minutes of sleep now, he'd have to reset the alarm. By the time he accomplished that he'd be awake anyway, so he might as well just get out of bed now. It was a hell of a bad way to start off the new school year.

He yawned and kicked off the covers, simultaneously groping for his glasses. Awkwardly putting them on his face, he surveyed his bedroom. a twelve foot square that expressed his personality better than anything else in his miserable little world. In one corner was his aging computer, which was virtually useless for anything but basic word processing. "It's good enough for your school work," his mother said, completely clueless of what school work entailed these days. But it was useless to argue, since to the best of his knowledge, she hadn't conceded a single argument in her life.

Flanking his queen-sized bed were two built-in bookcases which, aside from a few nicknacks, held hundreds of science fiction books that he'd managed to accumulate. He loved to read, which was one reason he hated to go back to school. For the next eight months of his life, someone else would be dictating what he read. The loss of control over his own life galled him.

The rest of his room was filled with clothes and crap that he knew he should either clean up or throw out, but he couldn't work up the motivation to do either. WIth a resigned sigh, he got up off the edge of his bed and pulled on the first pair of blue jeans that fell to hand. They seemed tighter than they had the last time he'd put them on, and looking down, he saw that the legs didn't even reach the tops of his black-furred feet any more. "Great, " he thought. "that virtually guarantees that I'll start the year off getting teased for wearing 'high waters' again." Once again, his mother was to blame. She insisted on buying his clothes based on what size he was today, not looking forward to what he'd look like in them tomorrow. What did she care about how everyone teased him? She was comfortable at home baking cookies while he was being tormented.

Dox reached into his closet and pulled on a random shirt, not caring how it ruffled his fur. It was only going to be on his body for the short walk from his bedroom to the bathroom, after all. Nobody had ever walked around his house unclothed, and he wasn't about to be the first.

In the bathroom, he sat on the toilet while the bathtub filled, wondering if he had enough time to rub one out before breakfast. He hated taking baths. He wanted to take showers like every other guy in the world did, but in their infinite wisdom, his parents had designed their house with a single shower in the master bedroom. The main bathroom, the only one he was allowed to use, had only a tub in it. So he had a choice - bathe, or stink. He bathed.

Twenty minutes later he was as clean as you could get from sitting in your own dirty bathwater, and had dressed a little more neatly. His completely unremarkable light brown fur was combed more neatly, but would never attract attention like his sister Candy did. She was the looker in the family, all flowing blonde fur and polished white teeth. Dox loved her deeply, but he also couldn't keep himself from resenting her as well. She was popular and pretty, and she wasn't as dumb as a box of rocks, either. She always got her homework done on time, never failed to bring home good grades, and had an active social life. Dox sometimes wished that he could bring himself to hate her, but he never managed it. How could you hate someone for being better than you were? It wasn't her fault that he was a loser.

Dox silently ate his cereal and put his dirty bowl into the dishwasher, dreading the upcoming bus ride. Every year before, Candy had walked them to the bus stop. She seemed to instinctively know when and where the correct bus stopped, whereas Dox was always mystified. The busses all looked the same to him, and now that she wasn't going to be there, he had no idea which bus to get on. He'd feel stupid if he asked, so he just stayed quiet.

For the first time, Candy wasn't going to be going with him today. She was off to college this year, and he was going to have to make it to the high school by himself. He was a junior this year, and still had to ride the damned bus along with all the sophomores and freshmen who either didn't have their driver's licenses, or weren't popular enough to get rides from someone else. He definitely wasn't popular enough.

Without a word, he silently hoisted his inexpensive book bag over his shoulder and walked out to meet another wretched year, not head on, but bent over so as to make as small a target as possible.

"Watch where you're going, faggot!"

Dox picked up the books he'd been carrying, the jock's laugh ringing in his ears as he strutted away. One good jab from the jock's elbow into his back had sent his books flying, and nobody seemed to notice or care. In fact, he would have sworn that some people actually went out of their way to step on his papers before he could pick them up. "Why do people hate me so much?" he wondered, almost getting his paw stepped on by a cheerleader who did an excellent job of grinding his homework into the tile floor on her way past.

With a quiet sigh, Dox stood up, fairly certain that he had all his papers back. He'd organize them later - right now he'd have to hurry if he was going to make it to his fourth class of the day - photography. It was a dying art, and one which he was certain wouldn't be on the school's curriculum for more than another year or two, but as long as it was offered, he was going to take it.

Dox loved being behind a camera. It built an insulating wall between him and the action, where he could observe without being required to participate. He especially loved taking pictures at football games, where he could stare at the handsome, rugged players all he wanted without getting assaulted.

Was that sad, he wondered? Was it pitiful that the only way he could feel like he was part of a group was to hide behind a camera? Yeah, it probably was, he decided.

The photography room was one of the few places on the planet where Dox felt at ease, but two seconds after opening the door he was ready to run out of the room and drop the class from his schedule. The first thing he saw upon entering what used to be his safe zone was the red and black of a football player's letter jacket. That color combination meant that pain and humiliation were coming his way, and his first reaction was to get as far away from it as possible. And damned if the meathead wasn't sitting next to the only empty chair in the room! Meathead's asshole teammate had made him so late that now he had no choice. He had to sit next to this football prick. Fuck. At least this guy wasn't one of the huge players that seemed to be the ones that most enjoyed making his life hell.

Thankfully, Meathead was too busy flirting with the girls in the class to even notice that Dox was within striking range, and the smaller fur was able to take his seat without being seen. Tomorrow he could come to class early and get a better seat, one that was in a much safer place. Nervous sweat trickled down Dox's back, adding physical discomfort to his emotional distress.

The teacher, a bear named Mr. Griffon who was only a few years out of college, had agreed to take over the class when the old teacher had retired. He knew his stuff, but the size of the class made it impossible to give one-on-one help to everyone who needed it. Since Dox had caught on so fast in his first year, Mr. Griffon had occasionally called on him to help the slower students get caught up.

Calling the class to order, Mr. Griffon took roll, and after a few minutes of paper shuffling, said something that made Dox's heart sink. "The seats you're sitting in are going to be your home for the semester. I've made a seating chart, so if you would please, continue using the same chair for the rest of the semester. That way we'll take up less time calling roll, and more time shooting pictures."

Really? No. Dox had a good relationship with Mr. Griffon, and he thought he could probably either get him to alter the chart or allow him to simply stand next to the counters that lined the classroom. He could survive a day or two of abuse, and then he was sure that life could go on as normal.

The teacher then began to go through the list of supplies that would be necessary to complete the class. Even though the lab fee for this class was higher than any other at the school, it was still expected that the students each pay for their own consumables. The list wasn't horribly long, but some of the items were pretty expensive, if you weren't prepared for them.

Dox prided himself on his excellent hearing, and he was fairly sure that nobody else in the room heard Meathead utter a dejected, "Son of a bitch," under his breath. Shocked not so much by the words but by the emotion behind that expletive, Dox turned his head and looked to see Meathead slowly shaking his head.

Dox hadn't meant to catch Meathead's attention, he'd only been curious why one of the Friday Night Kings would have an issue with the cost of supplies. Just being on the football team must cost a fortune, with all those pads and uniforms to pay for. Surely a hundred bucks worth of supplies was a pittance, compared to that.

Before he could turn away, however, Meathead turned his head and looked straight at him, forgetting, Dox assumed, that he was talking to a loser. "There's no way I can afford this," he hissed quietly, and Dox could tell by his tone that Meathead was bothered by this.

At that point, Dox went insane. At least, that's the only explaination he could come up with when he thought about it later. Perhaps a blood vessel inside his head broke, or maybe he just had a small stroke. For whatever reason, he said back, just as quietly, "Don't sweat it. I've got a bunch of stuff left over from last year you can have. It won't cost you a penny."

And Meathead smiled at him.

Instantly, something inside Dox melted. Meathead was treating him just like he was a real person!

"Great! he whispered, "I'll talk to you after class!"

But it didn't take that long. Class was divided into two parts - theory and lab. After twenty minutes or so, cameras were distributed to the class and they were sent out to make use of them. There were only ten cameras to share between almost thirty people, so most of the cool kids started clustering up, grabbing one camera between three or four of them.

Dox watched the mad scramble for hardware with amusement. He'd outgrown the battered community equipment in the first three months of the class in his freshman year, and had scrimped and saved money from odd jobs to buy his own camera. It was old and well used, but it was still worlds better than the crap the other kids were using.

He had unlocked his supplies drawer and was assembling his gear when he caught a flash of red and black out of the corner of his eye. Instinctively he flinched, holding tighter to his treasured camera to keep it from getting knocked out of his hands.

"Hey there," Meathead said, and Dox noticed that he was holding a paw out to him, "my name's Jason."

Letting go of his camera with one hand, he took the paw and shook it. The leather pads of Jason's paw were calloused from hard work, and his grip was strong but not cruel. Dox appreciated that Jason was secure enough that he didn't have to grind the other person's hand into meat just to prove how strong he was. "I'm, uh,... I'm Dox." he said, matching Jason's grip.

"It looks like everyone else has a partner," Jason said, "Can I come with you?"

"Sure," Dox said, a little warily, "Let me see your assignment sheet." The first year students had all been given easy tasks to complete. Finding a repeating pattern, shooting something with high contrast, forced perspective, that sort of thing. "Sure, no problem," Dox said, "I can help you with this stuff, if you want."

"There's a lot on that list, though," Jason said on the way out the door, "I don't know if I'll be able to get it all done in time."

"Relax," Dox said, falling into his role of teacher, "you've got six weeks to get these shots. You could get it all done in a day, if you wanted to." They walked through the hallway and out the door of the building, Dox continuing his lesson along the way. "This key to this class isn't so much in taking pretty pictures as it's about looking in the world in a different way. It's about really seeing things that you walk by every day."

They walked outside the building, enjoying the autumn warmth after being stuck in frigid classrooms all morning. "This is what I love about photography class!" Dox said, soaking in the sun. He couldn't help but admire the way the light played over Jason's fur. It had the classic German Shepherd pattern, but it was a shade darker, and maybe with some red thrown in. He might be a jerky jock, Dox thought, but he was a handsome one.

"That list might be easy for you," Jason said, "but you're a genius at this stuff. I'm just a dumb jock who can't even afford his own supplies." He kicked a rock with disgust and watched as it skittered across the pavement.

"A genius?" Dox asked, forgetting for a moment that he was talking to the enemy, "where'd you get that idea?"

Jason looked a little embarrassed. "I see you all the time at the football games. Your pictures are always in the paper. In fact, I've got a couple of them hanging on my bedroom wall."

Dox couldn't help the huge, stupid grin that split his face. "Really? That's cool. Thanks." He'd never imagined that someone might hold on to one of his newspaper pictures like that.

Jason shrugged it off, as if embarrassed that he'd said anything in the first place. "I should be thanking you. You're really the person who got me interested in this stuff."

Dox didn't say anything, but apparently he didn't have to. His expression of confusion was apparently quite clear to Jason. "Remember that picture you took of me flying through the air, catching the ball with just my fingertips to score the winning touchdown?"

Dox stopped for a moment, trying to remember. Then he snapped his fingers. "Yeah! I do remember. That's in my portfolio!" Then his expression changed, "That was you?"

Now it was Jason's turn to look confused. "You didn't know who it was you were taking all those pictures of? You didn't know that was me?"

Dox shrugged. "Nope. All I know is, if I follow number 88, he's going to be flying through the air at some point in the game, and all I've got to do is snap the shutter at the right time. Hey, look!" Dox said, pointing to a row of concrete benches lining the lunch area, "There's your repeating pattern. Let's grab that while we're here."

"But you remembered that I was number 88!" Jason said, turning his broad back and pointing to the number stitched on the back of his jacket. "Can't miss it!"

"Yeah," Dox said, unimpressed. "If you're planning on going flying through the air any time soon, let me know ahead of time so I can get ready."

Dox hesitantly handed Jason his camera and showed him where the shutter release was. "Just push the button down halfway and let it focus, then when everything's stopped adjusting and it looks just like you want it, push it the rest of the way down to take the picture." He hoped that Jason was as sure-handed with his camera as he was with a football.

Jason pointed the camera at the benches and shot the picture, then handed the camera back to Dox.

"Nope," Dox said, refusing to take the camera back, "that might satisfy the basic letter of the assignment, but you can do better. Hundreds of people have already taken that shot. How can you make yours different? How can you see it in a different way?"

Without speaking, Jason turned and looked at the benches again, thinking. Getting down on his belly, he shot the picture again from a low angle. Before he got up, he looked back to Dox for... confirmation? Approval?

"Good, but don't stop there." Dox encouraged. "Shoot more. Memory cards are cheap. It's a real bitch to just take one shot, and then later find out that it's not in focus, or the camera shook, or something. Always shoot at least three frames. And here...turn back around like you're going to take the picture." When the jock was again laying still with his eye looking through the camera, Dox stood over him and said, "If you're going to rest on your elbows like that," He grabbed first one of the jock's elbows, and then the other, spreading them wider for stability. "Move them out as wide as your shoulders. See how much steadier the camera is?"

Jason did as Dox suggested, then without being told, he got up and started looking for another vantage point. While he looked, he continued their conversation. "So if you didn't know who I was, why did you offer to help me?"

Dox snuffed softly. The thought that he'd help someone because of who they were was mildly insulting. 'I don't help people just because they're popular, I offered to help because I thought you needed it." He thought about it for a moment. "Photography's changed the way I look at the world," he explained, "It's made me a better person. Even though I despise everything else about this school, photo class makes coming here worthwhile."

Looking around and seeing nobody else in the vicinity, Jason started shimmying up the flagpole at the center of the courtyard, Dox's camera strapped securely around his neck. When he was almost to the top, he locked his legs around the pole and used his free hand to shoot more pictures of the benches from his high vantage point. Dox smiled when he heard three faint clicks coming from the camera. Jason remembered what he'd taught him!

When Jason was back in earshot, Dox continued. "So photography's really important to me. When you said you were going to have to drop the class... " Dox shrugged, "Everyone deserves to experience what I have, and I wasn't going to let something as stupid as not having any supplies interfere with that, especially when I have plenty to share."

Jason didn't say anything to that, he simply looked at Dox for a moment as if re-evaluating him.

"So what about you," Dox said, trying to deflect Jason's scrutiny. "You said I'm partly to blame for your being in this class to begin with. What's up with that?"

"It's weird," Jason said, "for months, I'd look at those pictures on my wall and congratulate myself on making a great catch. Then I started to realize how much power those pictures had. WIthout them to remind me, I'd have forgotten all about that catch months ago."

Jason looked over at Dox, and his voice was serious. "I might play some college ball, but there's no way I'm good enough to go pro. Some of these guys think they're that good, but none of them are. I'm no good at math or science, but I thought maybe if I tried, I could be a sports photographer. Kind of like you."

Dox blushed to the tips of his ears at the praise, but his voice was almost weary. "Okay, that's it. My mind is officially blown."

"What are you talking about?" Jason said, wanting to laugh, but not sure it was appropriate.

"The star of the football team wants to be "kind of like me","Dox said, making air quotes with his fingers, "but everyone else in the school, especially everyone else on the football team, hates me on sight."

"That's not true," Jason said, weakly. But inside, he knew that it was true. He had never known why, but the other guys on the team did seem to dislike Dox for some reason. Especially now that he'd spent some time with him, Jason couldn't understand it.

Dox heard the catch in Jason's voice and didn't bother to argue his point.

"I haven't spent my life worrying about what other people think," Jason said, "I like who I like, and if they don't like it, they can kiss my ass."

"You may change your mind when they turn on you," Dox warned. "I'll help you however I can with your assignments, But if they see you hanging around with me, you're gonna regret it."

Tuesday's class was spent learning how to import images into the computer and process them to look their best. When the class broke up into groups, Dox felt a surge of happiness when Jason came over to him instead of joining one of the other groups.

"So how do we do this?" Jason asked uneasily, watching the other students trying to find plugs for the cables that stretched between their cameras and the computers. As usual it was chaos, most of them looking a bit confused. "How do I get my pictures out?"

Looking over at the other students fumbling with their equipment, Dox had to laugh. He did it quietly, though, He knew what it felt like to be laughed at, and he wasn't about to do that sort of thing to anyone else. "It's a bit easier in our case," he said, pulling an old laptop out of his drawer and plugging it into a power socket.

Handing his camera to Jason, he showed him a button on the back that said "transfer". "Push that." he said, "it's kinda small, so you may need to use the tip of your claw."

Jason nodded and followed Dox's instructions. A red light on the top of the camera went on, and when Dox turned the laptop to face him, Jason could see the folder on the screen filling up with their files. A smile crept across his face. "Cool!"

"Later I'll show you how they're doing it so you can pass the test, but for right now, this is a lot faster."

"You must have a lot of money," Jason said, and instantly looked embarassed. "I'm sorry, that was rude."

Dox shrugged. "Probably, but it doesn't matter, because I don't. My folks have enough money to get by, but most of it gets spent on my sister or my baby brother."

Then it was Dox's turn to ask. "But you must have a little cash, to be on the football team. Gotta pay for those pads and parties, right? And yesterday I heard you talking to someone about your new car. A Camaro?" He whistled, "That's pretty sweet."

Jason looked embarrassed, "It's new to me, but it's a used car. One of the football boosters owns a car lot, and he sells us cars at auction prices."

"So there you go," Dox said, "You bought a car and I bought a camera. Priorities."

"I guess," Jason said. "But if you don't have a car, how do you go out on dates and stuff?"

Dox cocked his head to one side and gave Jason a "do you remember who you're talking to?" look. Thankfully, Jason caught the hint and changed the subject.

Dox went on as if he hadn't just had his feelings hurt. He'd gotten pretty good at hiding his feelings after so many years. "So now that your files are in here, let's show you what you can do with them..."

Wednesday they learned how to use the printers. "You got one of those in your drawer, too?" Jason joked, after automatically partnering up with Dox after lecture.

"No," Dox said, grinning. "I've got something better. But first, I have some business to attend to."

Dox looked pointedly around Jason's bulk, and when the football player turned, he saw a growing line of other students forming at his back. He stepped out of the way to let the other students get by, and watched in amazement as Dox began selling supplies out of his small drawer. Each ink cartridge put twenty dollars in his paw, and each pack of paper got him ten. By the time he was through, he'd amassed a small fortune.

While he was selling, he explained to Jason. "I buy ink and paper in bulk, then repackage it to sell here. I buy a thousand sheets of the best photo paper, then resell it for a fraction of what the stores charge for the cheap crap. Same thing with the ink. Mine's better than what you find in the stores, and it costs half as much. They save money, I make money, and everyone wins."

Jason was impressed. Dox wasn't just a genius, he was a fucking genius! But all he did was nod his head. Not many people intimidated Jason. Hell, he was six foot three and almost three hundred pounds of angry Shepherd muscle. Nobody intimidated him on the gridiron or at school, but in the photography lab, little black Dox managed to do it.

Dox wrapped up his sales and locked his drawer, then tucked his laptop under his arm and caught the teacher's eye. Mr. Griffon smiled and silently nodded his approval, then went back to helping the other students load their ink cartridges. Without drawing attention to himself, Dox slipped out the door with Jason.

"What was that all about?" Jason said, beginning to realize that Dox had privileges around the school that few other students did.

"My projects require a better printer than the lab can provide, so Mr. Griffon lets me use this one instead." Dox stopped in front of an unmarked door in the middle of the hallway and unlocked the door with a key he pulled from his pocket. "Nobody's supposed to know that I can get in here, so don't go spreading it around," he asked.

Opening the door, he flicked on the lights and motioned Jason inside before closing the door behind them. The already small room was made even more cramped by the huge printer that occupied most of the space, and Dox found that he and Jason were standing shoulder to shoulder. Or rather, they stood shoulder to chest. It was a good thing Jason was significantly taller, or they both might not have fit side-by-side in the narrow room.

Dox pulled a small utility stool out from under the counter and slid it over to Jason. "Have a seat, big guy. One of us might as well be comfortable."

Step by step, Dox showed Jason what he needed to know to turn on the complicated printing machine and hook his laptop into it. "I've loaded my computer with the same print program the school uses, so if you learn this stuff I'm about to teach you, you'll pass the test with no problems." he promised. "Here," he said, passing his laptop to Jason, "you drive."

"I don't know what to do," Jason said, feeling overwhelmed. The program was called up but there were dozens of icons on the screen, and at least that many floating menus. Panic began to set in, and he fought the sudden urge to throw the computer down and run out of the room. He would never get all this!

"Don't worry about it," Dox said calmly, reaching around Jason and taking the mouse from his hand. As he cleared icons off the screen, he explained, "It's like driving a car - there's a thousand things you can do with it, but all you really need to know to make it work is to twist one wheel and push two pedals. This program is as easy as pie, unless you want to strip it down and make it fly. Right now, let's teach you the basics."

Jason was afraid that when Dox put his arm around him and took control of the mouse that it was about to happen. Dox was nice on the outside, but he was going to make him feel stupid just like everyone did.

But that didn't happen. Dox explained things to him in a way he could understand without making him feel stupid, and despite being so physically close, Jason didn't feel threatened. The panic, which had all too often ruined his life, didn't arise. Slowly, Jason began to relax, and as he did so, Dox's teaching began to sink in.

Dox woke up on Thursday morning feeling pretty damned good! His wallet was fat with money, which he was going to use that afternoon to buy a new strobe light for his studio setup, and after three days with Jason, he thought maybe he might have found a friend.

The ride to school on the bus was as unpleasant as usual, but for some reason it bothered him less than it usually did. Stepping off the bus, he noticed a pair of jocks, a rottweiler and a rough looking ­dobie, standing nearby, and this struck him as peculiar. The popular kids usually stayed as far away from the bus stop as humanly possible.

As Dox walked towards the library to wait for the first bell, he was aware that the jocks had started walking in the same direction. "Hey, Doxie!" one of them yelled, "Wait up for a minute!"

Dox did as they demanded. Running would be useless, because they'd easily catch him if he tried to get away.

"We heard you were helping Jason," the dobie said, "and we thought maybe you could help us, too." The two started walking behind the buildings, and the rottie put his hand on Dox's back in what looked like a friendly gesture, but had a bit too much force behind it. Now Dox couldn't get away without looking like a complete pussy in front of the whole school­.

He'd managed to talk to Jason, so maybe he could talk to these guys in the same way, he thought. "Listen guys," he said, turning to them. "I'm not..."

The sucker punch to the gut caught him completely by surprise, knocking the wind out of him with brutal efficiency. The second hit, this time to his face, came from the dobie. From that point, Dox's head was swimming and he couldn't tell who threw which of the four punches that connected with his head and body. The last words he remembered were from the rottie. "Here," he said, tossing Dox's empty wallet on his chest, "you dropped this."

When Dox walked into his fourth period class, the response was immediate. Jason took one look at his face and, before Dox had even reached his desk, jumped up and turned him right back out the door without even asking Mr Griffon for permission.

"What happened to you?" Jason hissed, trying to be quiet, but failing. There was no missing the fact that he was one pissed off dude.

"Just another run-in with your teammates," Dox said, wryly. "Just like the last one."

Jason put a paw gently on the back of Dox's arm and gently led him to the printing room. "Give me your keys."

Dox did what he asked, and watched in a daze as Jason unlocked the door and gently led him inside where they could talk privately. He asked again, "Dox, what happened to you?"

Dox had been prepared to freeze Jason out as just another one of the jocks that had tormented him for so many years. He was prepared to make Jason pay for their sins, sitting idly by and watching as he flunked the class like any other stupid jock would. He would punish Jason because he was one of THEM.

But when he saw the look of genuine concern in Jason's eyes, he couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger on his cruelty. Against his will, his shields crumbled and he cried. All the helpless rage, the shame, the humiliation at his own weakness, all of it poured out from him as he stood in front of the one jock who had never hurt him.

Dox wrapped his arms protectively around himself, one hand moving to cover his face and hide his shameful tears as he stood alone, sobbing, before the school's greatest hero. So he didn't see as Jason quietly walked toward him, embracing him gently like a big brother might, quietly patting his back and telling him that it was going to be all right, that it was okay to cry.

Before Dox realized what he was doing, his own arms had wrapped around his protector. Silently he cried into Jason's thick chest, making the fur wet where his tears soaked in. He didn't care that this was a jock and a school hero, his only thought was that this was the one person all day who had showed any concern over his injuries.

Slowly his tears subsided, and even once they had stopped, Jason continued slowly rocking him back and forth until his breathing had returned to normal. Releasing his hug, Jason took Dox by the arms and pushed him far enough away that he could look into his face. "Better?" he asked, an encouraging smile on his face.

The release of tension made Dox laugh a bit. "Yeah, better." He patted Jason on the chest, and the Jock released his grip, giving Dox's arms a couple of rubs up and down before he did so.

Jason reached over the sink, pulled a paper towel out of the dispenser and handed it to Dox. "Okay, so tell me what happened.'

This time, Dox was able to explain the incident in detail without breaking down, but by the time he'd finished his story he almost wish he hadn't. The look on Jason's face was pure rage.

"Are you okay?" he asked, one last time, staring straight into Dox's eyes as if daring him to lie. Seeing his nod in response, Jason walked out the door and closed it quietly behind him.

Stalking down the hall, Jason made his way to the administrative office. "Where are Joey Halburton and Richard Bronner this period?" he asked the aide. Jason knew her well, and knew that she had a crush on him that wouldn't quit.

Looking up from her computer screen she said, "Joey's in A203, and Dick's in B100." She wrote the classrooms on a small piece of note paper and handed it to him with a wink.

Looking down at the scrap of paper, Jason saw that it had a telephone number scrawled at the bottom as well. "Thank," he grinned, turning immediately back out the door, "I'll call you sometime."

The instant his back was turned to her, the smile disappeared, to be replaced with an expression far less friendly. He was on the hunt, and he now knew exactly where his prey was.

Building A was closest, and he didn't bother knocking before he entered room 203. Walking quietly over to Joey, who was sitting at the back of the room, he silently picked up the rottweiler by his letter jacket and slammed his back against the cinderblock wall of the classroom. The big rottie's grunt of pain caused the teacher to stop what he was doing at the board and watch the two in mute fascination.

"You do not steal from my friends!" Jason growled, one arm holding the terrified rottie by the throat, the other pulling reaching around to pull his wallet from his back pocket. One-handed, he plucked every bit of cash out of Joey's wallet and tossed the empty shell on the floor.

"You touch him again and I'm going to nail you to the fuckin' wall," he growled, giving Joey one last shove before turning his back on him and walking to the door. "I'm sorry, Mr. Jones," he apologized to the teacher, stopping briefly at his desk."that was disrespectful to you, and I apologize." Then, before Mr. Jones could say anything to make matters worse, Jason stalked purposefully out the door. No longer having a target for his wrath, the big old badger shrugged and turned back to the board, continuing where he left off.

On his way to building B, Jason examined the large wad of cash in his paw. Pulling a few old receipts out of the pile, he dumped them into a nearby trash can and folded the rest into his back pocket.

Room B100 was in the remedial section of the school. Looking in through the small window set into the door, Jason could see Richard at the back of the class. The big dobie was poring over something that everyone else at his grade level had learned years earlier. This, he knew, would have to be handled differently. Dick might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he was vindictive and persistent. If other people saw him humiliated, he would strike back over and over again until his opposition was beaten to a pulp. If he was alone, though...

Opening the door quietly, Jason approached the teacher with confidence. "Richard Bronner is needed in the office," he said, knowing that trips to the office weren't anything new to the dobie.

The teacher responded with a sigh. "Dick, you're excused."

The dobie walked to the front of the class with a questioning look on his face. Jason just shrugged and held the door open for him. Once in the hallway with the door securely shut behind them, Jason took Dick by the shirt front and brought him down hard with a leg sweep.

The linoleum floor shivered under their combined weight as 600 pounds of bone and muscle slammed into it. Richard may have been larger, but Jason was far, far angrier. "What the fuck do you think you're doing," he hissed, holding down the struggling doberman, "stealing from someone weaker than you?"

The fact that Dick was still struggling meant that he wasn't listening, and Jason hissed, angrily, "Stop it, Richard!" The authority in his voice, combined with the dobie's proper name, got through to him and he instantly stopped straining to free himself.

The instant Dick ceased his struggles, Jason let his arms go, although he remained seated on the bigger dog's chest as a sign of dominance. "Your family's loaded, and you stole from someone who can't afford it, and who can't even defend himself. Why do you want to make yourself into a pussy like that?" he demanded.

"I dunno, dude! I was going along with Joey!" the dobie whined.

The tone of his voice couldn't be faked, and Jason instinctively knew he'd won. Getting off Dick's chest, he helped the dobie into a seated position, his back against the wall, before sitting down across from him. "I don't care what anybody else tells you, Dick," he said, eyes boring into the other jock's face with the intensity of laser beams, "You're not stupid. You may not know a lot about math and science, but you know the difference between right and wrong."

"I know, I know," Dick said, all the fight gone out of him, "I just wanted Joey to like me, is all."

"People who ask you do things that you know are wrong aren't your friends," Jason said, with a sad sigh. He liked the dobie, but he was so damned easy for strong-willed people to manipulate. "You have to stand up for what you know is right, man."

He reached out and gave the big dobie's shoulder a friendly squeeze, and was pleased when he saw the bigger dog's eyes were wet with remorse. "You know what you have to do to make this right again, right?"

Jason stood and helped Dick to his feet. Turning him around, he brushed the dust off his broad back where he'd slammed him into the ground. "I'm sorry about that, Dick," he said, returning some of the dobie's pride to him, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah," the other dog said, ready for the situation to be over. He dug his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out the cash he'd split with Joey. He started to put his wallet back, but stopped when Jason growled deep in his chest.

"Okay," he grumbled, pulling out all the cash and handing it over. "I guess i deserve this for being such a fucking moron. That was my drinking money, too," he said, sadly.

"No," Jason corrected, that was this week's drinking money. You can still pull from next week's stash and have a good time.

Taking pity on the other jock, Jason leaned a bit closer and said, quietly, "If you want to get a good buzz going, stop spending twelve bucks a case on beer that tastes like shit anyway, and buy a bottle of everclear and mix it with some Sunny D instead. It hits a hell of a lot harder, and it's half the price."

Dick smiled and nodded, their relationship repaired. "Thanks, dude!"

"I'll call you this weekend," Jason promised, relieved that the confrontation had gone as well as it had.

Jason wasn't certain that Dox would still be in the print room, but when he looked at his watch, he saw that barely ten minutes had passed since he left. He tried the door, and found it open.

"You okay?" he asked as he closed the door behind him.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," Dox asked. "You tore out of here looking like you were going on the rampage."

"Things are okay now," Jason said, digging the wad of money out of his pocket and handing it to Dox. "Here's your money back."

Dox didn't need to count it to know that there was a hell of a lot more money in the wad Jason handed him than had been stolen from him. He counted it quickly. "Jason, there's, like, twice as much... no, closer to three times as much here!"

Jason shrugged, his massive shoulders rising and falling without a care. "Consider it payback for what you had to go through. Pain and suffering, or whatever."

"I almost feel guilty," Dox said. He quickly counted out a third of the money and handed it to Jason. "You should have some of this. A finder's fee."

Jason backed away from the money like it was on fire. "Uh, no. That's not mine. If I took any of it, it would send a very bad message."

Dox deflated a bit, then brightened. "Okay, let's consider this payback for the supplies I gave you. Can you deal with that?"

"I guess," Jason said, "if you insist. But don't go thinking that I'm your paid muscle, now."

No, Dox thought, Your'e not my paid muscle, Jason, you're my hero.

"How did you do on yesterday's test?"

"Not so well," Jason admitted, "I guess I didn't have a very good teacher."

Dox felt horrible until Jason slid a piece of paper across the table. Written at the top in thick red marker was "100 - good job!" Stapled to the back was a folder containing Jason's first photographic print, the repeating pattern. Dox remembered his first print, and how Griffon had virtually smothered it in red ink. The print he pulled from the folder had only one small item circled, a person at the edge of the print, with the notation, "would be a stronger image if this person were cropped out" And underneath, in the border, was written, "I've seen this location a hundred times, but never from this angle. Impressive!"

"You jerk." Dox said, grinning from ear to ear.

"I think it's the first 100 I've ever gotten on a test," Jason admitted. "Thanks for your help. How did you do? I didn't even see you in class on Thursday."

"I left before class started. I've got a different schedule than you do. Mr. Griffon gives me a quarterly evaluation based on a different requirement list than you have.

Jason felt guilty. "For the past two weeks we've been working on my list, and I didn't even think about yours. What are you going to do?"

"I dunno," Dox said, pulling a crumpled list out of his back pocket. "Most of my list is stuff that takes a lot of planning, and not a lot of time to shoot."

Jason took the list from him and was amazed at the number of scribbled notes that covered the page. They almost obscured the printed words, but he could still read through them. "portrait, famous person, action shot, architecture, once in a lifetime event, baby picture... No fair," he exclaimed, handing the list back, "You've only got six things on your list - I have fifteen!"

"Yeah," Dox agreed, "but yours stay still - mine move around!"

"So when are you going to get started?" Jason asked, not dropping the subject.

"I was going to go downtown this weekend to shoot some of the classic buildings, but my sister's going to be out of town and I'm stuck."

"I can take you," Jason volunteered. "It's the least I can do since you helped me so much already."

This was unexpected. Totally. And for a second, Dox couldn't make his voice work.

After a few beats, Jason stepped back, suddenly embarrassed at his own presumption. "Oh, hey, I'm sorry," he stammered, "I, uh... I didn't mean to invite myself to the party like that."

"No!" Dox almost yelled, then got control of himself. "I just never expected you to want to.. you know... hang out with me." He knew he sounded confused, but he couldn't help it. Nobody else in the school wanted anything to do with him, and now the king of the jocks wanted to spend time with him? It was just all a lot to take in.

"Dude, you don't have leprosy, or anything," Jason said. "Just tell me where and when."

Dox scribbled his address down on the back of Jason's assignment sheet, then looked back at the shepherd "I was planning on going in the evening to catch the sunset in the glass buildings. You okay with that?"

"If it gets me out of another stupid booze party, I'm all for it," Jason said. Sun sets at around eight, so should I pick you up at six? We can grab something to eat if you want."

"Sure," Dox said, perplexed by Jason's generosity and, honestly, not completely trusting it. "I'll see you at six, then."

Dox was disappointed, but not surprised, when six o'clock rolled past the next day with no sign of Jason. Just another one of those people, he supposed.

He'd fixed himself a sandwich and sat down to eat it when a heavy knock on the front door startled him. Now he was surprised. Jason stood there, looking out of breath and bashful. "I'm sorry, bud. My pop said he needed my help moving some stuff where he works, and he didn't bother telling me it was going to take six hours."

Dox looked at him with a bit of suspicion, but he could tell that Jason had only been home long enough to take a quick shower. His fur was still damp in places. "That's okay, come on in."

He led them into the kitchen, Jason whistling along the way. "Nice house."

"Thanks," Dox said absentmindedly, pulling a knife out of the block and cutting his sandwich in two. He handed half to Jason, and took the other half for himself. "Here, we don't have time for dinner any more, so eat this."

"Great!" Jason said, "I haven't had anything to eat since breakfast, and I'm starving!"

"In that case..." Dox pulled a banana from the bunch and handed it to Jason. "We'd better get moving. Daylight's burning."

They packed Dox's gear bag into the back of Jason's Camaro and headed into the heart of the city. True to his reputation as a champion jock, Jason drove fast and loose, classic rock blaring out of the stereo all the way.

The downtown area had never had much of an urban development, and the streets were empty save for a few weekend workers and policemen. That suited Dox just fine - he hated it when people bothered him while he was on assignment.

Wandering around the empty streets, Dox spent fifteen minutes absorbed in his assignment before he realized that Jason had nothing to do. Fishing around in his camera bag, he handed the big jock a 4 x 6 card with a rectangle cut out of the middle of it. "Here," he said, "help me. I'm looking for some architectural element that reflects the sunlight.

Jason looked at the card for a moment in confusion, then suddenly understood. The hole in the middle of the card was the exact shape of an 8 x 10 sheet of photo paper. Holding it up as a frame, he could block out all the extra details around the subject and "see" what the final picture would look like. Moving the card closer to his eye "zoomed" the picture out, moving it further away "zoomed" it in.

"Hey," he said, peering through his card, "Look at that!"

Dox saw what he was looking at, and quickly swung his camera around to take the shot. It was a common image and not really worth saving, but he wanted to encourage his friend.

Thirty minutes later the sun was definitely on its way down, painting the late summer sky with a riot of reds and oranges. Dox thought that he'd found his image, and was concentrating on shooting a modern skyscraper lying down in the middle of the street when Jason yelled at him from half a block away. "Get down here, Dox! Hurry!"

Bolting upright, Dox abandoned his picture - it hadn't been working out like he thought it would anyway - and ran towards his friend.

When he got to where his friend was standing and saw what Jason was looking at, he wasted no time with words. Framing the photo as quickly as he could, he started shooting even before the camera had a chance to focus. He zoomed out and in, adjusting the exposure settings constantly to ensure that at least one of the dozens of images would turn out the way he wanted it to.

While Dox had been looking at big things to reflect the light, Jason had been discovering small things. What had him so excited was a side window in the corner of the old courthouse. Judging by the bars on the outside of the window, Dox assumed that it had to have been a jail cell at one time. The way it caught the burning sunset made it look as if the building were on fire inside. It was one of those pictures that, even as you were clicking the shutter, you knew was going to win awards. And he never would have seen it had it not been for Jason.

Fading light sent them back to Jason's Camaro, and they packed the gear more carefully than they had the first time. They both seemed to have a reverence for the equipment now that hadn't really been there before.

Dox looked at Jason, a small smile playing across his face. "You really get it now, don't you?"

Jason didn't even have to ask what Dox meant by that. "Yeah, I do. I thought I understood why this was exciting before, but I really didn't have any idea before tonight." He shut the trunk with a click. "But I do, now."

"So," he said, climbing into the driver's seat, "You ready for some pizza?"

Dox was surprised by this. He thought they were just going to be heading back to his house. "Sure, I guess. I kind of thought you'd blown off dinner, though."

"Nope," Jason laughed. "How much food do you think it takes for me to maintain my weight? I have to eat at least six times a day if I don't want to lose mass."

"No kidding?" Dox said, intrigued. "How do you do keep that up at school?"

"I keep food in my locker," Jason explained. "I know it's against school rules, but I have to eat between classes to keep my weight up. So where do you want to go? My treat, for standing you up earlier."

Dox shrugged, "I dunno," he said, "I don't get to eat out much, so why don't you choose?"

"Let's splurge a bit, then!" Jason said, "I know this great little joint on the other side of town that we can go to. You got time?"

"Nothing but." Dox said. "My folks don't care when I get home, as long as it's before they wake up in the morning."

"Wow," the big shepherd said, enviously, as he pulled onto the freeway, tires screeching madly, "that must be nice. My folks keep me under lock and key. The only reason I got out tonight was that I said I had a date with one of the senior cheerleaders."

"That's a little weird, isn't it?" Dox asked, "They won't let you out for a study session, but they'll let you stay out for a hot date?"

In the glow of the dashboard lights, Dox could see that Jason had a sour expression on his face. "Dude, that's my dad. He wants me to be popular so bad it's killing me. The only reason he let me take photography class was that I told him there were lots of hot chicks in there."

"For some reason, he thinks I'm going to get rich and famous playing pro football, and he's got it in his head that to make it that far, I've got to be a real lady's man. Get popular, play the field, all that sort of crap. So to make him happy and keep him off my back, I pretend to date a bunch of different girls."

Dox's mind went into overdrive when he heard this. A dozen questions occurred to him at once, none of which he could ask. It sounded a lot like Jason was telling him that he was gay, or something, but hadn't come out to his family. But there was no way he could ask him something like that without risking getting beat up - or worse.

"Dox, just so you know, I think I might like guys."

Dox's head snapped around so fast he thought he may have strained his neck. "Okay," he said slowly, "I guess I don't need to ask you that question after all."

"Look," Jason said, sounding a little agitated, "nobody else in the school knows, so I'd appreciate your not spreading it around, okay?"

"Don't worry about it," Dox said, "you can trust me." After a pause, he asked the question that was burning a hole in his brain. "I've gotta ask you - why tell me and not one of your buddies?"

"You are one of my buddies," Jason said, but then amended, "You mean, one of my jock friends, right?"

"Well, yeah," Dox said, "you've known them a hell of a lot longer than you've known me. Why choose me to confide in? Why tell a nobody?"

Jason was quiet for a moment, but Dox let him figure it out without comment. Finally he said, "Please don't take this the wrong way, Dox, but it's because you're a nobody that I can tell you. I don't mean that you're a nobody," he said, quickly, "it's just the way you put it. If I tell someone on the team and they blab it, then by lunch time, everyone in the whole school will be laughing at me. You could yell your head off, and..." he trailed off, realizing how insulting he was being.

"I'm sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay," Dox said quietly, staring out the window at the passing lights lining the freeway, and wanting to be anywhere but inside this car. "I'm pretty used to being nobody by this point. It hardly hurts anymore."

Jason swerved and took the next off-ramp, pulling into the nearest parking lot and finding a security lamp to park underneath before shutting the car off. "No, it's not okay, Dox! I'm an asshole for saying that. And more for that, I'm an asshole for thinking that."

Dox didn't say anything, he just sat there staring out the window, wishing he was close enough to home to just get out and walk. They must be twenty miles away, he thought, could he cover that distance by morning?

"Please don't hate me, Dox." Jason was surprised by the panic he was feeling inside. Was it because Dox held a socially lethal dose of toxic information on him now? Or was it because of something else?

Dox rubbed his face with his hands wearily. He suddenly felt as if he'd just gone days without sleep. He was exhausted and just wanted it to end. "I don't hate you, Jason. I'm too tired for that. I just thought that maybe you liked me for who I was, and not what I could do for you."

Dox looked up, feeling some of his backbone return. "I'm just disappointed, Jason," he said quietly, "not in you, but in myself. I should know better by now."

"I thought I'd feel better after telling someone," Jason said, starting the car and putting it into gear, "but I just feel worse than ever. I never meant to alienate you like this. Will you please talk to me?" Impulsively, he put one of his huge paws on Dox's shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "Please?"

Dox sighed. What was he to do? "Okay," he decided, "I'm hungry anyway, so let's go have that pizza."

"It's not far from here," Jason said, trying to sound enthusiastic. "And if you still don't like me by the end of dinner, I'll pay for your cab ride back home."

Jason left the parking lot much more sedately than he'd entered it, perhaps trying to impress Dox in a different way now. Or maybe it was just that he didn't have to keep up the macho posturing now that Dox knew about him.

"It's not that I don't like you," Dox said, "that's the problem. I do like you." His words were coming faster, now. "And I thought you liked me, too. I thought we were getting to be friends, and all of a sudden, I felt like you were using me like everyone else has."

"I do like you, Dox," Jason said, "and I want you to understand that. More than that," he went on, "I trust you. You're the only person in the world I trust enough to tell that I'm... gay. Hell, it's tough for me to even say the word!" Then, almost as an afterthought, "Is that okay with you? That I'm... that I might be gay?"

"Jason, if you don't know by now that I'm gay too, you've got a lot to learn," Dox said. "I certainly won't be the one throwing stones at you."

"I kind of suspected," Jason said, "but I wasn't sure. There are rumors around school, but you never know who's really gay and who's just getting called a fag." He thought about it for a second before saying, "God, I hate that word, 'fag'".

"Well, that settles it," Dox laughed, "you're gay, all right."

"Hey, I got you to laugh!" Jason said, "That's a start, right?"

"Yeah, yeah," Dox said, feeling himself being won over against his will. "So tell me about this pizza joint."

"Why don't I just show you?" Jason said, pulling into the parking lot. "We're here."

The restaurant wasn't the Four Seasons, but it certainly wasn't Pizza Hut, either. Red and white checkered tablecloths adorned the tables, with a flickering candle and a bud vase containing a single live flower in the middle of each one. It was nice, Dox thought. Not fancy, but nice. It was a great place that kids might hang out and share a pizza on a Saturday afternoon after a matinee.

As Jason spoke quietly to the hostess, Dox took the opportunity to look around. Jason apparently wasn't the only person in the city who knew about this place. In spite of the late hour, the tables were almost all full of foursomes getting a late night's dinner after a good movie, and couples holding hands and talking quietly. The mood in the restaurant wasn't jovial, Dox realized, it was... romantic. "Uh,..."

Before Dox could suggest that maybe they should go to someplace more casual, Jason started following the hostess back to a table in the corner. Too late now, he thought grimly, this is gonna cost me a fortune. The tiny booth had only two bench seats attached to the wall, and it was impossible for the two to sit without their knees touching. Dox expected Jason to ask for a chair so he could sit on the other side of the table and place some room between them, but he remained silent. Was I supposed to ask for the chair? Dox wondered to himself.

The waitress left them with a single menu, apologizing that they were running short until new ones could be printed. "That's okay," Jason told her with a friendly smile, "we can manage." He laid it between him and Dox, and leaned over to read it. "So what do you think?" he asked.

"I think this is the smallest booth I've ever sat in!" Dox joked.

"Aha! You're smiling again!" Jason said, triumphantly. "I knew I could get you to laugh." His expression turned a little more serious when he asked, "Do you still hate me?" There was still a smile on his face, but something in his voice belied a trace of anxiety.

"No, Jason, I don't," Dox said, with a sigh, "I don't think I could ever bring myself to hate you." The look in his eyes spoke volumes, if anyone would have looked deeply enough to see it.

Jason did.

"Thanks, Dox." Then, out of the blue, he leaned down and gently head-butted Dox in the shoulder, almost knocking him out of the booth. "Whaddya want to eat?"

"Let's see," Dox said, tracing a finger down the list of entrees, but secretly looking for the cheapest thing on the menu. "Have you ever had their spaghetti with marinara?"

"It's okay," Jason said, noncommittally "I've had a few things, and all of them have been pretty good."

When the pretty young terrier lass came back to take their order, Jason handed her their menu and gave her the most amazing, winsome smile that Dox had ever seen. If he hadn't heard from Jason's own lips just ten minutes ago that he liked guys, he would have sworn he was trying to pick her up.

"Can I take your order?" she asked, putting the end of her pen coyly against her pretty muzzle.

"I don't know - what's good tonight?" Jason said, flirting shamelessly.

She giggled and rolled her eyes as if she'd seen this gambit a hundred times before. As pretty as she was, Dox thought, she probably had. But as disinterested as she acted, her eyes still returned to Jason's. "Well, the carbonara is always good, and nobody ever complains about the veal parmigiana."

"That sounds great," Jason said, never breaking eye contact. "Why don't you bring my friend here the veal, and I'll have the carbonara." Dox was astonished that Jason had ordered for both of them, almost like he was on a date, or something. "Two salads, with... is ranch okay with you?" he asked Dox, who nodded dumbly. "...and two glasses of water to drink."

"Linguini, spaghetti, or ravioli on yours?" she said, softly biting her lower lip as if the fate of the world hinged on his answer.

"Linguini," Jason said, angling his head down a bit but keeping his eyes on hers. Sweet Jesus, Dox thought, he's really got this down to a science! "Would you recommend a wine with either of these?"

She eyed him thoughtfully, and her answer was full of unspoken subtext. "Normally I'd say no, but in your case we've got a case of Malbec in the back that the owner saves for his friends. I think there's an open bottle that needs to be finished off before it goes bad."

"That sounds great... What's your name, anyway?" he asked.

"Trish." she said, smiling quite pleasantly.

"Well, thanks, Trish, I'm Jason, and this is Dox. You're worth your weight in tips!"

She gave him one last eye lock as she turned back to the kitchen to put in their order, and the sway in her hips told everyone in the room who was paying attention that she was definitely interested in the muscular shepherd sitting in the corner.

"Wow," Dox said quietly once she was out of earshot, "That was quite a show. Are you really interested in her?"

Jason gave a quirky little laugh. "Nope." He fished a bread stick out of a ceramic urn and chewed it as he spoke. "But it made her feel better to think that someone was interested in her."

"And it got you a glass of wine." Dox pointed out.

"It got us two glasses of wine," Jason corrected. "Even though she thinks I'm the one who's interested, she'll still bring you a glass too. She wouldn't leave my wingman high and dry. And they'll probably be free, too," he added, "she won't want them showing up on our tab in case they get audited. Serving alcohol to a minor wouldn't do her career in the food service industry any good."

"Mighty nice of her," Dox said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"That's how the straight world works," Jason said, "If you know the rules, you can make it work for you. If you don't..." he shrugged expressively.

"So have you ever... You know."

"What, done it with a girl?"

"Well, yeah! Your reputation is... well... I guess I've heard that you get a lot of action."

To Dox's astonishment, Jason actually blushed! The silver grey hair on the tips of his ears hid nothing. Jason pulled at his collar nervously, and there was embarrassment in his voice. "Uh, would it really matter?" he asked.

Dox opened his mouth and then closed it again. Would it matter to him if Jason was the free-swinging stud that everyone said he was? Truth won out, and after a moment of thought (fortified by chewing a bread stick of his own) he answered, "I kind of hope you don't, but I'm not going to hold it against you if you do. I guess. I don't know."

Dox had confused himself thoroughly. He knew that he shouldn't care what Jason did to maintain his reputation, it shouldn't matter to him. But for some reason, it did. He was crushing on Jason even before tonight, and now that he knew that Jason was gay, it made it that much more difficult for Dox to be objective. All of a sudden, the room seemed awfully warm.

"Does it really matter what I think?" Dox asked hesitantly.

"Well, sort of," Jason said. "I.." and he had to stop for a minute, his brow knitting in concentration. "Jeez, this is tough, man." The blush had returned, and the uncertainty in his voice was something Dox never thought he would hear. Jason always seemed so in-control at school. "I, uh... I sort of got the feeling that you liked me, and when what I said in the car hurt your feelings, I felt like..." his paws moved nervously on the table, playing with the candle for lack of anything better to do. "Dude, it ripped me up. And I hope I'm not wrong about your liking me, because I sorta like you too. You know."

"Yeah," Dox said faintly, for once looking, really looking into Jason's eyes. They were blue, he noticed, for the first time. Deep, dark blue. "I know."

For a while, Jason toyed with the salad that had somehow appeared in front of him. "Hey, Dox. Is this... is this a date?"

"Do you want it to be?" Dox asked, more scared than if a gun had been pointed at him. He tried to ignore his heart pounding in his chest, but he couldn't. He thought he was about to hyperventilate like he did when he was seven, after seeing that scary movie his mother had forbidden him to watch.

"Yeah, I think I do."

"Well, then, yeah," Dox answered, relief crashing through him, "I guess it is, then." A tentative smile crept across his muzzle, and was returned by Jason in equal measure.

Slowly, Jason reached across the small distance separating them and took Dox's hand in his. He seemed so small there, so vulnerable, and Jason felt a protective instinct swell within his heart. Trish rounded the corner with two wine glasses in her hand. Seeing the Jason and Dox smiling stupidly at each other, hand in hand, she felt her own flirtatious smile melt from her face like butter in the July sun. Reaching their table, she held up the glasses, arched one eyebrow and asked, "I.D.?"

Laughing, Jason held open the Camaro's door for Dox. "The look on her face was priceless!"

"Oh, God," Dox agreed, "It was fantastic! It looked like she'd just bit into a lemon!"

Climbing into the driver's seat, Jason put in the clutch and twisted the key, the engine burbling happily to life. As they headed out the parking lot, Dox noticed that Jason's driving style had definitely changed. It was as though he now carried something infinitely precious in the passenger seat, something he'd do anything to keep from harming.

The drive home took a little longer than the drive out, even though the freeway had cleared of almost all the other traffic by then. They were in no hurry - they talked and laughed, wanting to share their most important experiences with each other.

"You know you never actually answered my question." Dox said, at one point.

"Which one?" Jason laughed, "There've been a million of them!"

"About sleeping with a girl. Have you?"

Jason sighed. "You're not going to let this go, are you?" After a pause, he continued. "No. I've never slept with a girl. Or a guy either, since I'm pretty sure that's going to be your next question. The closest I've gotten was when Elma Chevers tried to give me a blow job under the bleachers after the homecoming game last year."

"Elma Chevers?" Dox asked, incredulously, "The original Country Bumpkin? The one with the mustache almost as thick as yours?"

"That's the one," Jason admitted. "By far the worst date ever. She went all over school the next day telling people that we'd made out, and that pretty much secured my reputation as a horndog."

After a few more miles, Jason asked, as casually as he could manage,"So, do you want to come over?"

"Sure. It's a little late, but my parents don't give a rat's ass whether I'm home or not, so long as I stay out of jail."

Jason shook his head. "Sometimes I wish my folks would be like that."

"It's a double-edged sword, my friend," Dox said, "I've got a lot of freedom, but it would be nice to think that they actually cared enough to set some boundaries, you know? At least your folks care about you enough to make sure you're okay."

"I guess," Jason said, sounding unconvinced. "It just seems like sometimes they want to run my life."

"There's gotta be a balance there somewhere," Dox said, "Why is it so hard for parents to find it?"

"I dunno," Jason said quietly, reaching over and putting his paw over Dox's. "I'm having a great time, Dox. Can we do this again sometime? Soon?"

"The night's not over yet!" Dox said, surprised.

"I know, but I wanted to secure a "yes" while you're in a good mood."

"Why would I say no?" Dox asked, laughing.

"Plenty of girls do." Jason said, wryly. "You get to the end of a good date, you spend fifty bucks on dinner and a movie, and then you never hear from them again."

Dox squeezed his hand in encouragement, and Jason went on, "I guess maybe they sense that I'm not interested in them in... you know, that way, and they lose interest. Maybe somehow they know I'm... gay."

"Dude," Dox said, "trust me. You are the least gay person I've ever known. You're a football hero, you've got the body of a god, and you're completely butch. Nothing gives you away."

"Yeah, but something about me just turns them off."

"So what?" Dox asked, "why do you care? You don't really have any interest in them anyway."

"Maybe not," Jason said, "but it still hurts to be rejected like that."

"So you do understand." Dox said, quietly.

"Maybe that's why I wanted to hang out with you that first day," Jason suggested.

"Because you felt sorry for me?" Dox asked, unable to repress a trace of hurt in his voice.

"Because I could relate to you." Jason corrected. "If you want to call that "feeling sorry", go ahead, but does it really matter? It got us where we are tonight, right?" Jason wove his fingers through Dox's and squeezed gently.

"Yeah, you're right," Dox said, trying to banish the hurt from his mind. "I'm sorry about being one big nerve. I never really realized it until now, but I think I look for reasons for people to hurt me. I sort of expect it, even if it's not there."

"And when you do that," Jason theorized, "people sense weakness and they'll jump all over you." He released Dox's hand to reach up and stroke the back of his neck. "I'm going to teach you how to take care of yourself, buddy, so nobody ever picks on you again."

"Do you really think you can do that?" Dox asked, uncertainly.

"Oh, hell yes!" Jason said. "And not just because if they ever tried, I'd beat the shit out of them. I want them to respect you for your own power. And trust me, buddy, you've got power, you just don't know it."

"What gives you that idea?"

Jason laughed softly. "Because everyone's got power. We were all born with it, and nobody can steal it away. You can give it away, but you can never lose it. Yours shows up in the pictures that you take. Not many people can do that, you know."

Dox thought about that for a moment, again taking Jason's paw in his own. He had such strong hands, calloused from years of lifting weights and...doing whatever football players did. In any case, he loved touching them, holding them. All of a sudden, Jason pulled his hand away. "Sorry, you can't play with that right now."

"Why?" Dox asked, confused.

"Because I need it to shift," Jason said putting his hand on the Camaro's gearshift, "we're almost there."

While they were talking, Dox had noticed that the streetlights had faded away. "You're pretty much out here in the country, aren't you?"

"Well, not exactly,"Jason said, "but we're far enough away that my sister can keep her horses behind the house."

"Cool," Dox said, "I wish I could see it in the daylight."

"You'll get the chance," Jason promised, smiling at him, "I ain't going nowhere."

Hearing the words warmed Dox's heart. He liked the idea that maybe someone would be in his life for a while. A boyfriend, maybe. boyfriend....girlfriend.... "Oh, crap!" he said, looking over at Jason. "Aren't you supposed to be on a date with a girl tonight?"

Jason's foot stomped the brake, bringing the car to a shuddering halt. "Oh, shit, you're right. Fuck, fuck, fuck!" He wanted to bang the steering wheel in frustration, but he held himself back, squeezing it instead. Cords of muscle ripped under the black and tan fur on his forearms.

"Not a big deal," Dox said, thinking on his feet. "How about this - you were at a party and the girl got drunk. Some of her friends took her home, and now we're hanging out. Will that work?"

"Probably," Jason said, thinking through the scenario. "My dad will wonder whether I banged her or not. Did I? He gave me condoms, for the love of God."

"Let me see," Dox said, holding out his paw. Jason pulled out three foil packages and handed them over to Dox.

"Magnum XL?? You go, boy!" Dox said, eyes wide. Jason shrugged sheepishly. Dox tore off one of the condoms and shoved it in his own pocket, then gave the others back to Jason. "When you go in, hand him those. When he sees one is missing, he'll just assume. Like you said, people think what they want to think, right?"

Jason grinned and stuffed the pair of condoms back in his pocket. "You're fucking brilliant, you know that? Brilliant!"

Jason parked the car and led Dox to the front door. The outside light was on, and in its yellow glow, Jason found his house key and unlocked the door of the small farmhouse. Before the door was even open, Dox could tell by the flickering light that played against the curtains that somone was still up and watching TV.

"Hold on for a second," Jason told Dox, peeking his head in the door before opening it all the way. "Dad? You decent? I brought a friend over."

Dox didn't hear the reply, but assumed that the answer was a good one when Jason swung the door all the way open and motioned him inside.

"Is Mom asleep?" Jason asked his dad.

"Yeah, she crapped out about an hour ago," his father replied. "Who's this?"

"Dad, this is Dox," Jason said, "we were hanging out at the party when Mindy passed out." with no fanfare, he discretely took the remaining condoms out of his back pocket and handed them to his dad, a knowing smile passing between them. "Thanks, Dad."

"Not a problem, champ," his dad said, tucking the condoms into the pocket of his bathrobe. "Is she okay?"

"Oh, yeah, she's cool. Some of her friends took her home. I was having a good time, so I stuck around with Dox until things started winding down. We're going to go play some Madden on the PS2 for a while."

"Well keep it down. If you wake up your mom, you'll have hell to pay," the elder shepherd advised. "You know how she gets when her fur's in a knot."

"No doubt," Jason laughed. "Come on, Dox."

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Thomas" Dox said, holding a paw out to Jason's dad.

"Why can't you be more like this?" Mr. Thomas said, winking at Dox while giving his handpaw a bruising shake. Dox retrieved his mangled paw and followed Jason down the short hall to his bedroom.

"Well, that was a mistake," Jason said brightly, after he'd closed the door. "How bad did he get you?"

"Not too bad," Dox lied, flexing his fingers. "I think I may even get feeling back, one day."

Jason stifled a laugh and pulled Dox into a hug. "I'm sorry, buddy. Really, I am."

"Not a problem," Dox said, breathing in the warm scent of Jason's fur. "If it gets me hugs like this, I'll get my hand crushed on a regular basis."

Any discomfort Dox was feeling was instantly banished when he opened his eyes and saw what was hanging on the wall in Jason's room. "My picture!" There, in an inexpensive yet carefully hung frame, was the picture he took of Jason flying through the air, fingertips touching the football for the game-winning catch. Dox gently broke free and walked over to the framed newspaper article, charmed to see it presented with such care.

"No," Jason said, coming up behind him and putting his arms around Dox from behind, nuzzling his hair, "It's mine." Dox's hair smelled like rain. "All mine."

"Remember the first time we hugged like this?" Jason asked, gently rocking Dox back and forth as if dancing to an unknown melody.

"Yeah," Dox said, "I thought my world was crashing down around me, and you put it all back together again." He turned his head so his cheek was against Jason's broad chest. "I think that was when you started to be my hero."

"Because I got your money back?"Jason asked.

"No," Dox said, pulling away slightly so he could look into Jason's deep blue eyes. "it was because you were willing to give me a hug and make sure I was okay when nobody else cared." He couldn't help that his eyes were wet. He buried his face in Jason's fur again, hoping that maybe this might be more than a friendship, that maybe a big, strong fur like Jason could manage to love someone as different from himself as Dox was.

"I hate that they hurt you," Jason said, pulling him closer. "But they'll never do that again, I promise you."

Dox laughed quietly. "I almost forgot to tell you," he said, pushing back slightly from his friend, "It was so weird. Dick Bronner came up to me on Friday at the end of the day and apologized! Did you have anything to do with that?"

Jason had to laugh a bit himself. That was unexpected! "No! I didn't. He's really not a bad guy, he just got involved with the wrong crowd and I think he honestly regrets what he did to you. Joey's an asshole, but Dick's okay."

"Yeah, I think he is. He still intimidates the shit out of me, though."

"Well, he's a defensive tackle - that's his job, and he's damned good at it!" Jason laughed. "Speaking of which," he said, "we're supposed to be playing Madden, aren't we? With one arm, he reached down and grabbed the remote control to the old TV sitting in the corner of the room. Turning it on, he started a demo game running, and the sound of an electronic football game provided cover for them.

Tossing the remote onto the bed, Jason asked, "Do you ever play video games?"

"I'm not into them," Dox admitted. "too many buttons to memorize. I get them all confused. But," he said, brightening, "Maybe you could teach me on our third date?"

"But we haven't even had the second one yet!"

"I know," Dox said, smiling, "but I want to secure a "yes" while you're still in a good mood."

"Then," Jason said, bending down slightly so the side of his muzzle brushed against Dox's, "Yes."

And then Dox's world turned inside out. Jason's warm lips brushed against his provocatively, his breath warming the side of the smaller dog's face. Dox made a small noise deep in his chest, one that he'd never been aware of making before. It was a single sound that carried need and desire, lust and want and fear and pain and love and affliction. It was the sound of concrete walls crashing down, and it stabbed Jason through the heart to hear it.

Dox needed him, and he would provide. Jason opened his lips slightly and kissed Dox again, ever so gently. Once. Twice. And a third time, now lingering a bit longer, the tip of his tongue tasting Dox's lips.

When Dox felt the warm wetness of Jason's tongue, he instinctively opened his own mouth slightly and touched the tip of Jason's tongue with his own. Of their own volition his hands moved up Jason's back, feeling corded muscle and sinew tighten and release as the two swayed back and forth.

Their kiss deepened, tongues dancing back and forth between mouths, first exploring one set of teeth and gums, then moving back to explore the other. Nibbling lips, nipping on chins, rubbing cheek to cheek and relishing the feelings of stubble and whiskers and fur.

Jason quietly locked his bedroom door and lowered Dox onto his bed, using the momentary interlude to slip off his varsity jacket.

"I didn't know you could do that," Dox joked, "I thought that thing was grafted onto your skin!"

Jason laughed quietly as he joined Dox on the bed, the mattress creaking slightly under his weight. "Is this where all the cheerleaders end up?" Dox asked, grinning.

"Actually, no," Jason said, smiling gently, but completely serious. "You're the first."

Dox had nothing to say to that. This time it was he who pulled the other into a hug, using his hands to massage tight back muscles and, only coincidentally, pulling the shepherd closer into him in the process. He dared to reach down further and massage the area immediately above Jason's thick tail, causing the jock to moan softly. "Dude, that's one of my spots," he said weakly, almost pleadingly.

"I'll remember that," Dox said, hands roaming up and down the back of his handsome... boyfriend? Finally his hands went further down, massaging Jason's firm, ample butt, pushing their erections together. Jason did the same to Dox, marveling at how great it felt to be rubbing up against him.

Oh, Jason thought, as Dox's tongue made another appearance in his mouth, it felt so good, so damned fucking good... "Oh, God, I can't wait," Jason moaned, reaching down to unbuckle the his pants and release the top button.

Dox fumbled for his zipper and pulled it down, exposing... Oh my God, Dox thought, he's wearing a jock strap!. Reaching around to Jason's exposed ass, Dox gave a healthy squeeze on the two perfect, dark-furred cheeks. IN response, Jason began pulling at the top button of Dox's pants, which were bulging with the strain of containing his own erection. "Shit, you're hard," he said, feeling Dox's erection through his jeans.

Dox wished that he could have said something witty in response, but nothing came to mind at that moment. His world was centered around the man in his arms, and he wouldn't have had it any other way. A quick wriggle sent his jeans down to mid-thigh, exposing his underwear, tightie-whities that Jason was exploring like the wrapping on a gift. "Jesus, you never told me you were so big," Jason said, surprised by the heat Dox was packing.

"You never asked," Dox replied, putting his hands under the wide waistband of Jason's jock strap and letting it press his hands against that beautiful ass. Then slowly, he began to move his hands around to the front, careful not to pull fur in any of Jason's sensitive regions. When he made it to the front, he immediately saw why Jason needed the Magnum XL condoms.

"Wow, you weren't kidding!" Dox said, giving Jason's thick sheath a good squeeze before pulling his jock strap over his huge bulge. The tip was poking out, and Dox couldn't keep himself from bending over and giving the exposed part a long, slow lick. It tasted salty on his tongue, bitter, and musky. And he wanted more.

But first, he straightened and kissed Jason deeply, driving his tongue deep inside the jock's mouth, sharing the taste of him. Jason moaned deep in his throat and sucked on Dox's tongue like a nursing calf, pulling the taste of his own manhood back inside his own body.

Never breaking their kiss, he ripped Dox's underwear down with an almost vicious pull, wrapping his hands around the smaller dog's sable-brown ass and grinding their sheaths together. As more of their cocks were exposed, they not only rubbed against each other's cocks, but between each other's furry bellies as well.

"Oh, God," Jason grunted, thrusting his cock into Dox's belly fur, which was now slick with copious amounts of pre. "Oh, fuck..."

When Dox sensed that Jason was about to blow, he reached down and began rubbing that magic spot above his tail. He had another idea, too. Inclining his head slightly, he kissed Jason along his jawline, then began to bite with passionate nips.

Jason knew he had to hold back his yells, but he couldn't hold back his seed. When Dox started chewing on his chin, it drove Jason over the edge. Rope after rope of hot come shot between them, soaking both of their bellies in his sticky semen. He retained enough sense to make sure the last few shots went right on Dox's sheath.

Using his own come as a lubricant, he rubbed his furry sheath against...his boyfriend's? rock hard erection. Instinctively, he grabbed Dox's wrists and held them above his head as he fucked his belly, asserting his dominance at the same time he pleasured his partner.

When Jason grabbed his wrists and forced them above his head, Dox willingly let him. He wanted this beast of a dog to be in control of him. He wanted him. He trusted him. And he thought that he might even love him. Jason's erupting cock sent wads of jizz all over Dox, and now he was using it as sexual lubricant to bring him off. And he was doing a damned good job of it! With powerful thrusts, the muscular football jock mercilessly bred his mate, and within seconds Dox was riding the wave of his own orgasm. It wasn't until halfway through that he realized his cries of passion were being muffled by Jason's kiss, allowing him to grunt and groan at full volume without being heard by anyone else in the house.

For a few moments they stayed like that, lips locked, sharing breath with one another as the semen cooled on their bodies. "Mrph!" Dax said, breaking their kiss, "I think I'm beginning to drip."

Jason laughed. "God, look at all that!" The size of the puddles of semen soaking their fur was amazing. "I better get you a towel, huh?"

Dox dried off as well as he could, but he was still going to smell funky. "I hope your dad goes to bed soon. I smell like a whorehouse toilet."

"Yeah, probably not the way you want to make your exit, huh?" Jason held up the remnants of Dox's underwear. "Sorry about that, dude. I guess I got a little excited."

"You think?" Dox said, raising an eyebrow. "Not that I'm complaining."

"Tell you what," Jason suggested, "You can wear a pair of my underwear home, and bring them back next time you visit."

"So you still want there to be a next time?" Dox asked warily.

"Are you kidding?" Jason said, "I had a great time tonight. Didn't you?"

"Yeah, I guess I did!" Dox said, and when he looked up at the man who used to scare him so much, he was smiling shyly.

Jason turned and rooted around in one of his dresser drawers for a moment. At first he started to hand him a pair of underwear, but then he stopped and withdrew them. Turning back to the dresser, he instead pulled out one of his well used jock straps and handed that to Dox instead.

"Dude, this is going to give me a boner all the way home," Dox said.

"Yeah," Jason smirked. "I suspected as much. But here," he said, pulling another small item from his dresser that he showed to Dox. "It's my grandfather's pocket knife," he said, handing it over. "It's the only thing of his I have left, which pretty much makes it the most valuable thing I own."

Taking Dox's hands in his, he said, "I know you have doubts that I'll come back, so why don't you keep hold of it, okay? That way you can be sure." Carefully, he took the old pocket knife out of Dox's shaking hand and slipped it into the front pocket of his boyfriend's jeans. "You can give it back when you feel more secure about us."

The hug Dox gave Jason was fierce. "Thanks, meathead," he promised, snuggling into Jason's warm bulk, "I'll keep it safe."

"You're welcome, buddy," Jason said, kissing the top of Dox's head, right between the eyebrows where the fur was impossibly soft, "Now let's get you home before you turn into a pumpkin."