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Chapter 9 - Allies

After spending more time at the Black Sock gang's headquarters, I felt better about going up against Mordecai and Crossbell Industries. For the first time since I lost Bensley and Gideon, it felt like I had people on my side who were willing to help.

It also terrified me; the people in my orbit didn't do well when Mordecai was in the picture. I hoped that these Americans would be different. They had to be. I had promised myself I wouldn't let someone else die for me again.

My life got back to normal for the next few days. I spent my time working, either in the shop being a courier or down at the Arc. A few people commented that I seemed different, that I was acting more awake--whatever that meant. I took it as a compliment and just kept my routine going as best I could. I tried to not dwell on the hornet's nest that I was probably kicking.

I came to the Arc-en-ciel early one day because I just didn't have anything else to do. I didn't want to go wandering the city when it looked like it would rain and the twins were busy doing whatever it was they did. Fiz said something about fireworks. I didn't pry; it generally was safer that way.

This early in the morning there were, of course, no guests, but Siro always let me work when I was there. Instead of taking a room, I volunteered to work in his store room unloading boxes of alcohol. So, that was where I was, carrying heavy wooden boxes, pulling out expensive bottles of wine and liquor, and putting them in their intended locations in the stock room so runners could grab them at ease when it got busy. The more expensive items, the ones that cost more money than my hide was worth, were kept in Siro's office and he handled those deposits himself.

I was enjoying the hard work. It reminded me of when I was on the Paramour. I was assigned to cargo hold duties when I couldn't even stand upright on a ship. It was really easy to just get lost in the routine of work and shut your mind off, something I had grown to do rather than being skilled at doing lately.

Of course, being Simon King, I was never so lucky as to just day dream the morning away.

Avery appeared.

I almost dropped a box of wine when I saw him. He sat there on one tall stack of crates, his feet kicking a little bit with his hands in his lap. He looked at me and tilted his head to the side. I tried to ignore him but he spoke first. "You not going to say hello?"

"You're not real," I said, putting the case down and prying the lid open with a crowbar I had on the table nearest me. "Just a figment of my imagination."

"That's mean," Avery said, jumping down from the stack of alcohol and turned to look around the store room. "You know I'm real. You just don't want to admit it."

"Yes, let me tell everyone I'm seeing the ghost of my long lost dead friend from London. They'll put me in the hospital, or worse--"

"They'll kill you?"

Avery's question made me stop cold.

"W... What?" I asked, swallowing.

"That's what you're afraid of. Someone killing you. That's why you never tried to find Gideon, right?"

"He was as good as dead," I said, my voice tighter than usual. "Besides, I came here like we planned."

"Yes, but this is a huge city, you didn't go looking for him once. You never checked with any of the ships or anything. You just... started living." Avery put his hands behind his back.

"I was also on a goddamn ship for years before we got here!" I snapped, grabbing two bottles of wine and putting them down in their respective places so hard the bottles clinked. It made me remember to keep my temper down.

"Simon," Avery said with a knowing tone. The tone I hadn't heard in so long. Avery could always tell if I was lying. He knew me better than I knew myself... and if this ghost of a friend was really Avery... he knew me too well. "You know that isn't true."

"Yes, it is!" I growled, whirling on Avery, but he was gone. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and he was sitting on the tall stack of liquor again though no longer kicking his feet. "Don't do that!"

"Simon," Avery said with his soft voice. "You and I both know you could have got away from the ship you were on any time you were in port. You almost did it a few times, didn't you?"

"I..." I swallowed, looking up at him. I flattened my ears and growled deep in my chest. "What's it to ye anyway? You watchin' me all the time like some kinda peepin' tom?"

Avery smiled and actually clapped his hands in front of him. "I knew it! I knew you were hiding your accent!"

For a moment I stood confused, then I realized I hadn't been watching my words. I scowled a little bit and looked away. "I wanted to blend in," I admitted, prying another lid off another box. "And my accent drew so much attention. I just... started talking like an American."

"You can't really hide it though," Avery said, giggling. "You still sound English, just not... really English."

"Just means I need more time to practice, and less ghosts bothering me about decisions I made while at sea." I said with a snide smirk. It was meant to be funny but also to hurt. I was getting really good at pushing people away.

Avery jumped down once more and landed so gracefully, so smoothly, that it was like he floated to the floor like a lead from a tree in autumn. "You know it's okay, right? Being scared. Doing what you did. You didn't do anything wrong, you know."

I didn't respond. I just kept opening boxes and pulling out bottles, trying to not think about the years at sea and the fear I felt. The worry that, the moment I got to the United States, I would get full proof that Gideon was dead and Mordecai was hunting me. I stayed with the Paramour for years longer than I needed to.

The wolf boy sighed and came up to me, standing in front of me so I had to look at him, look down at him. My chest tightened when I realized how much taller I was than him now. I was allowed the chance to grow up, but Avery... he was still the little kid from the London slums. I missed my old friend. I felt tears starting to well up in my eyes.

"You didn't get Gideon killed," Avery said softly, "and I don't blame you for what happened to me. Simon, you always do everything for others but when it comes to you, you're horrible at it."

I growled and looked away, slyly rubbing my eyes with the back of my hand.

"You were a scared kid. You didn't know anything about the world outside London or what horrors were in front of you. You did what Gideon told you to do and you left. You weren't afraid then. You were almost excited."

"...It felt like an adventure," I said softly while gripping the neck of a wine bottle tightly. "It helped me not feel alone."

"And so over the years you've punished yourself and twisted your memories so much you blame everything on yourself. You act like Mordecai did what he did because of something you did."

"Didn't he?" I whirled on Avery, my voice raised. "If we hadn't been in the quad that night--"

"You went back to get your tools. You couldn't leave them!" Avery shouted back. "That's it. You didn't do anything bad. But he saw you, and yes, that was the point where everything went bad. But none of this is your fault, Simon! Stop hurting yourself. Please."

I was about to raise my voice again but the storeroom door opened. "What the hell is going on back here, Simon?"

It was Siro. The white wolf was impeccably dressed as was his usual. He wore a silk vest of blue and gold today with the billowing white and gold trousers of his homeland, which he said was a secret. The beads woven into his long headfur glittered in their rainbow light and shone with a brilliance of jewels.

I looked down quickly and Avery was gone.

"Ah... Sorry Siro, I was just..."

"Arguing with yourself again," Siro finished for me with a playful grin. "I swear, Simon, you're going to worry me to an early grave."

"Eheh," I laughed sheepishly, rubbing the back of my head with a hand and trying to not look embarrassed to be caught yelling at nothing. "I'm sorry, I promise I won't indulge in any more one-man debate until I'm off the clock."

Siro waved a hand dismissively and walked toward me, looking my body up and down with those sharp eyes of his. I realized why he was staring at me.

I had taken off my shirt to work in the stuffy stock room. Lifting the boxes and prying their lids open was tough work. And since I did my laundry just yesterday, I did not want to ruin my nicer clothes with sweat while I was in the Arc. Sometimes what I wore was almost as important as what I looked like naked.

Siro stood in front of me, examining my chest. His hand brushed up my thigh and touched the groove on my pelvis, the Adonis belt line, as I was told, and traced a finger up along it. "You should walk around more without your shirt on. I think it would boost your customer numbers dramatically."

"I... uh..." I said quietly, feeling the hand move to the front of my stomach, brushing above the waistline of my trousers. Siro was enjoying himself. I could tell that by the grin across that snow-white muzzle of his. I tensed up when the button to my slacks was popped open and a finger played inside, brushing the slightly coarse fur around my groin.

I don't know how this wolf managed it, but he was able to get me hard without even trying. Every move he made seemed to serve a purpose. I felt my pants stretch forward as I was held back by fabric. Seeing it, Siro grinned from ear to ear.

"There is one thing I like about you, Simon," Siro said, still brushing his finger over my groin. He was touching the base of my erection now. I swallowed and stood still.

"Only one?" I quipped, my voice trembling a little bit. For all my experience I was usually the one in control, and I certainly wasn't used to someone focusing merely on my body and nothing else.

With the quip that got a laugh from Siro as his other hand lifted up and brushed under my suspenders on one shoulder, pushing it off. "Okay, maybe a few," he said slyly as he pushed the other shoulder strap off.

I waited, feeling the hand brush over my pectorals and down my stomach, still gripping a wine bottle tightly. I watched as Siro's hands were on my waist again, starting to lower the zipper.

"I like that you respond to the simplest of touches like a man on his first time. Your body springs to the ready and it's hard to resist."

I swallowed again as my pants fell down to around my knees, my erection pulsing forward, its end dripping with a small bead of pre. Siro curled his slender hand around the flesh and stroked it before lowering himself to his knees.

"Siro, wait, you--"

"Shhh," he said, licking his lips. "Be quiet for a few minutes and enjoy it. My treat."

I never get used to the feeling of being with someone. It is like finding a large pool of water to drink from after wandering the hot desert for a lifetime. I didn't even need to watch, my head was tipped back and my muzzle parted when those warm lips passed over my flesh and I was inside a muzzle.

It was so warm and wet, I couldn't think about anything else. The only thing on my mind was the pleasure of that muzzle rolling up and down along my cock, those tight lips keeping everything to himself. Each pull back drew more of my pre out and I had to lean back against the racks of liquor, one hand falling down to that head, caressing through his soft and very plush white fur.

Siro knew more about pleasure than anyone I've ever met. When we first started meeting, he slept with me one afternoon to see if I was good enough to work in the Arc. At the time I was still very inexperienced and nervous, and he could sense it. When it ended up that I was not up to snuff, he simply grinned and told me class was in session.

So that was how I became, in some weird way, his pupil. For days we lay in his bed, muzzles around one another, bobbing and licking, feeling how another man pulsed against my tongue, or how a muscle spasm could indicate a peak in pleasure or pain. It was like a science that I never knew existed, and I was getting a master lesson.

I spent days having sex with Siro. Every position, every move, was a new gateway to feeling things I never expected. He showed me how to keep a man erect even after a climax, or how to delay any kind of release by avoiding certain areas of the penis.

My body was the textbook.

I don't know how many days we were in bed together, I know we slept sometimes and woke to find food there, or being woken up by Siro with his muzzle, or his flesh under my tail. Siro showed me the difference between simply using someone for your own pleasure and enjoying them and sharing in the moment. We've coupled so many times, but Siro still loved doing this to me with his muzzle.

It did not take long. It never did with Siro. No matter how hard I tried, how much I resisted, how empty my balls had been, he could get me to peak with just a few flicks of his tongue. Which was what he did.

I gasped and held his head with both of my hands, gripping gently, but firmly, as I came. I exploded into that lupine muzzle, coating his tongue with my seed, feeling it vanish into something I did not know about or really cared to focus on. All I could think about in those moments of sexual bliss was how skilled Siro was. No matter how skilled I became, I could never match him.

I shuddered again as my balls emptied and that lupine muzzle slowly stopped bobbing his head, his cheeks sucking in and him forcing every last drop of my seed from my shaft. I moaned loudly again as my sensitive shaft was teased and saw Siro pull back and sit on his rump, licking his lips.

"There. Now that I got that out of our systems, I want to know why you went to see the Black Sock Gang yesterday, Simon."

Exhausted from the hard work and the seed being drained from me, I had little energy in the way of making up stories, so I told him.

Siro listened, angry at first, then confused and lost. All in all he looked more perplexed than Renaldo has been, but Siro was also an information broker. He could know a lot more than the fox gang, and if so, he could help.

Siro sighed and sat back on a box, adjusting the front of his own trousers as he admired me. "This is serious. You know what you're doing?"

I shook my head and hauled my pants up, putting the suspenders back over my shoulders. "But what else am I to do?"

"Well, nothing!" The white wolf raised his hands. "Let him get caught in his own dubious plan. Let him die to a God or something."

"He's very slick, Siro," I said and sat down on the floor, knees drawn up and still catching my breath. "He could never mess up, and you know it."

The wolf frowned and shook his head. "I don't like this idea of you owing that gang any favors. What if they try to exploit your powers and rob you of a choice you need to make to protect yourself? Or are they going down with you?"

"The alternative is waiting for the police to find me, arrest me, reveal what I know to them. If they aren't already dirty and under Mordecai's finger, that is."

"The police? That's it!" Siro said, sitting upright and snapping his fingers. "You need a good copper, right?"

"What are you talking about? I mean... I suppose so? But all this is off the record, I don't think the cops can do anything with my stories."

"Which is why we get someone who is a good cop but isn't afraid to bend the rules. I just need to get a letter to him and invite him to the Arc. And you will seduce him there. But I suppose there's just one problem."

"Only one...?"

"He's happily married. But I have faith in you, Simon." Siro then pulled my hand. "Now come on, we need to get you cleaned up for when he drops by. Let's trim that tail a little, too."

"At least tell me something about him!" I protested as I was hauled up to my feet and practically dragged out of the store room.

"And ruin the surprise?" My friend chuckled, winking at me. "No way, this is going to be way too much fun."