Thief: Chapter 1
#2 of Thief WIP
(C) 2010 Ian Gilbraith
The beginning chapters of a WIP novel-length story. Gayness, violence and lots and lots of dialogue ahead.
Tate Jarvis sat reclined in his non-reclining chair, feet propped up on the wall, the digital clock above his head silently counting seconds. On slow, late nights at the precinct just like this, he sometimes imagined it could still tick like analog clocks used to. The way he figured, technological "advancements" for such trivial and mundane objects like clocks were just a guise, hiding their gears and hands which performed the task of telling time just as well as any LED lights could. Obviously there were no actual gears in the electronic clock, but pretending there were helped Tate make sense of how the silent clockface could still speak to without its ticking voice. As the otter stared up at the unmoving red lights forming numbers, he decided to himself that his entire train of thought was the product of a caffeine crash and that if he didn't ingest some coffee within the next hour his brain wouldn't be much use to anyone pinned to this investigation.
Spinning the wheeled chair back to face his desk, Tate dropped his feet back to the ground and exhaled heavily, clearing his head. He rubbed his eye and blinked, looking down at the stack of papers and folders guarding his workspace, reading off random snippets of information written in his own hand in all manner of ink pen, marker and highlighter. It made him happy in a way that he was as stumped as he was, since he knew once he and his team finally worked things out it would feel all the more gratifying to finally close the lid on the case. Tapping a clawed finger on his sad, empty little mug, Tate began debating what bean machine would be responsible for resurrecting him and how far he would have to drag his corpse to get to it, when the cell phone in his pocket began to vibrate.
Having only a vague idea of who might be calling him this late, he glanced briefly at the landline phone sitting on his desk before stuffing his paw into his pocket and drawing out the chirring device. The screen read "LANCE WADE". Why his senior partner was using a private line was beyond him, but Tate shrugged it off and flipped the phone open, putting the receiver to his ear and rubbing his forehead.
"Yeah, what is it Wade?"
Static prevailed on the other end for a few brief moments before it dissipated, and the husky, excited voice of an older horse became audible. "--Seen anything like it in my fu--ife, you better get down here as soon--ossible! Already ph--oroner, but I doubt he'll be able to figure it out neither."
Tate sighed and stood, stretching for his jacket. "Your reception is terrible right now, where did you say you were?"
"Pier 19, Warehouse B, come quick and--" There was a hiss of static, and then a friendly blip. His faithful phone informing Tate that it had dropped the call.
The tired otter threw his arms loosely into the sleeves of the jacket and dropped the phone back into his pocket, scooping his keys off the desk. It was a good half hour drive, he thought to himself. Plenty of coffee shops along the way to choose from.
The bass-heavy music shook the walls and floor, laser-lights flashing all around Henry, disorienting him. Silhouettes of other creatures danced before him, grinding and bouncing off one another, their jewelry and glowsticks drawing all the light away from their faces. It was the otter's first time in a club, and the fact that it was one for gays didn't at all sweeten the deal. He shifted uncomfortably in the zebra-striped velvet booth, head lowered. A spotted furry arm snaked over his neck and draped itself over his shoulder, dragging him closer to its owner, causing Henry to lean awkwardly in his seat. The jaguar next to him grinned drunkenly, laying a paw on his thigh dangerously close to his crotch. "Come on sugar, I know you know you want to, and everyone here is tired of you playing hard to get. Get that tight butt out there and mingle already!"
Henry just shook his head, paws knotted in his lap. "Nuh-uh."
His feline friend, Sean, raised his paw until it hovered in front of Henry's face, before clamping down over his eyes, obscuring his vision completely. "Raise your arm, point in any direction, and I can pick out any three who would be glad to share you between them. You can't stay a virgin forever, I won't allow it!"
Henry pulled his head away, huffing and frowning. "I don't want any three--I don't even want one! I'm not gay yet, and its easy enough to keep it that way as long as I do exactly the opposite of what you tell me to."
Sean just grinned again, pinching the otter's cheek affectionately. "Then be sure not to go out to my car and open the trunk, and definitely do NOT strip down, because you totally DON'T want to put on the skirt you find in there..." He giggled and jerked his paw back before Henry could slap it away.
"For someone who wants to assimilate me so badly, you're really doing a shitty job of persuading me," Henry grumbled. Sean pouted and thought to himself a moment, head bobbing to the music.
"Alright then Mr. Slippy," he sighed, flattening his ears. "I'll be serious for a minute. If you can go out there, find someone cute, and give him a big wet smooch, I'll--" he drew back, voice raising as Henry's fist came into view, "--I'LL PAY for the hotel room. You're getting your cherry popped one way or the other tonight, and the best I can do for you is let you choose who does it."
Henry relented, lowering his fist. It wasn't true that he didn't want anyone--he knew already he was gay, and being the honest person he was he didn't want to keep lying to himself about it. In fact, he was tremendously excited about tonight, almost sick over it. That didn't mean his inhibitions automatically took backseat, though, as was evident by his outward behavior. He was glad to have a friend like Sean, who could see through his act and bring his true self into the light. Henry just wished he weren't so...
"Oh, and here, you'll want this!" A packaged condom dropped from above Henry's head, zooming down past his eyes and landing square in his groin. He whimpered and plucked it up between two fingers, standing and shoving it into his back pocket. Sean snickered and swatted the otter's ass. "Get some tighter jeans too, you wanna draw attention to this--a skinny thing like you, it's your strongest asset...heh, get it?"
Henry scooted sideways out of the booth, trembling visibly. There was no buffer zone between the table and the dance floor--as soon as he stepped foot out of Sean's reach, he was on his own. He took a deep breath and slipped out, squeezing in between two turned backs and wriggling his way as far out into the crowd as possible. It was a good thing he was as young as he was--short and skinny, modest attire, he could remain undetected, even as surrounded as he was. He spend several minutes scanning over faces and bodies, each more colorful, flamboyant and bedecked with piercings than the next. As he searched he began to make sense of why they all liked this obnoxious music--it forced its way into his chest and made his heart thump, blurring his distinction between his excitement and nervousness. It made him wish he could enjoy this.
Eventually Henry found his way to the fringe of the mob, where the bodies were less packed, and features were easier to make out. He had almost resigned himself to the idea of having to choose someone by closing his eyes and snatching them out of the crowd, when his gaze wandered over a pronounced bulge in a pair of slacks. The sight made him wince, imagination sparked as he struggled to catch a breath. His eyes traveled up, over the unfastened bottom button of the male's shirt, over the dark fur revealed therein, climbing upward to meet the face. And what a face--the german shephard's muzzle sported a casual grin, thick eyebrows curved in smug approval of what the gorgeous hazel eyes saw before them. A tuft of black hair arched over his forehead, flaring out behind his ears and neck like wings.
Henry stood stock still, staring with mouth agape. It was a face he could look at for the rest of his life. The face of a thief, sent to steal his innocence.
With heartbreaking resolve, he reluctantly tore his gaze away and looked back over his shoulder. Sean was sitting hunched in the same booth, watching his every move, tailtip twitching above the lip of the table. He knew Henry had found the one at exactly the same moment Henry did. There wasn't any going back now.
Turning his attention back to the beautiful dog, Henry clasped his paws together over his tailbase as if to protect himself, and advanced towards his target. Every step he took pushed his thudding heart higher up in his chest until it pounded in his throat, causing his mouth to water. Faster than he had anticipated, he was standing next to the handsome beast, the swishing tail curved up behind him. It was like a switch was flipped, completely shutting down any semblance of logical thinking his mind may have been processing. Henry stood on his toes, hopping to reach the tall canine's height, planting a small, quick peck on his cheek.
His heart skipped a beat when the shepherd stiffened, head spinning to see who had violated his space. It took a moment for him to look down and spot Henry, arms behind his back and blushing profusely, avoiding eye contact. If that wasn't bad enough, the dog's entire body turned to parallel his own, a paw slipping under Henry's jawline to raise his head. When his eyes met the shepherd's, his heart skipped another beat, then two, before returning in full force, pounding on his chest cavity so hard he feared it would burst through. Thief's look of surprise shifted, melting into a warm, fanged smile, entire visage radiating heavenly light. He understood, without having to ask a single question, and he descended upon Henry.
His muzzle brushed over the otter's sensitive whiskers, causing him to squeak inaudibly, and his lips made first contact, fusing themselves to Henry's. The canine tongue slipped in unchallenged, sliding over the otter's, teasing it knowingly. It wound itself around every tingling, aching inch, hot and wet, tasting of apple and nectar, intoxicating his senses. His eyes closed and his legs evaporated--yet he still stood, unaware that Thief had his arms wrapped around him, keeping him held upright, terrifyingly close to his own body. It proved to be too much for him, and he surrendered himself fully, diving headfirst into the raging river, too caught up in his own spiritual release to recognize the simple fact that he was experiencing the best moment of his entire life thus far.
When Henry emerged from the torrent, and caught a lungful of air, only a small part of him realized the thief was speaking to him, whispering seductively into his ear, the words lost in the blaring noise around him. Without knowing or caring what they stood for he nodded, knowing that no matter what he had just been told it was undoubtedly the absolute best thing he could have possibly heard at that moment in time. The shepherd took his arm, leading him away from the mob, from the speakers, towards the illuminated exit. Henry caught Sean out of the corner of his eye, the jaguar bouncing up to the two, giddy beyond restraint. There was a brief exchange of words between the canine and feline, and the otter glimpsed a flash of green paper passing from Sean's paw to Thief's. He smiled dreamily, only briefly, before the world of flashing lights was suddenly flipped, and he was lifted from the ground, footpaws dangling in the air.
Thief carried the small male out the door with minimal effort, the humidity smacking Henry in the face, warning signs of an oncoming storm washing over him. He refused to let himself say anything, to make any sound, lest he ruin this moment forever. Instead he closed his eyes, letting the dog think speak and act for him, while his senses recovered themselves. Hearing came first, as Sean's voice, dripping with honey, carried over the sound of thunder rumbling in the distance.
"Be careful with him, love, I promised him the first time would be special! And don't lose him either, his brother's a cop!"