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"You work in the morning?"

"Yessir."

"Really, on Saturday? Huh." Kane was being very patient, he thought, while Will passed a beat-up phone back to whoever-the-hell-this-was. "You're gonna text me on your first break, then."

"Yessir. Uh, what do I say, yeah?"

"Doesn't matter. Don't worry about the details, just be a good boy and obey: your first lesson, got it?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you'll hear from me tomorrow. Now go get some sleep."

"Was that," Kane leaned against the front door he'd just locked behind him, "what you were too busy with to come fuck me senseless in the back stall on my break?"

"What, you've never heard," Will smirked at the slightly-disoriented-looking red wolf making his way down the small-hours darkened street in search of a late bus, "of having a project?"

"Maybe I should text Sam," Kane ventured, "about your new project?"

"Oh that's a good point," Will said. "This might need his, you know, professional expertise."

"You're incorrigible!"

"S'what you find so irresistible about me."

"Smug bastard," Kane sighed. "Anyway, you need a ride back? I gotta drop Keith off."

"Probly a good idea to have a couple extra bodies along. In case you-know-who is skulking around to start trouble, I guess."

"Ugh, the last thing I need tonight. More work."

***

What had he done?

The half-finished second floor apartment over the autoshop had been only storage for as long as Leo had worked for his dad's garage. The 'living room' was still stacked with cardboard boxes full of replacement oil filters for makes and models nobody drove anymore, huge rolls of paper towels for the bathrooms, obsolete tools that might yet be needed for an unexpected antique, the industrial fan that had arrived broken and Dad had never gotten around to sending back, and the tiny bubblegum machine that once sat in the lobby, guilting quarters out of bored customers on the March of Dimes' behalf, still filled with a last load of dusty, stale, petrified gumballs never now to bear fruit.

What use did he have for a living room, anyway?

He hadn't ever thought he'd need the bedroom, either, but within less than a year of moving back in with his parents--the childhood home he'd been supposed to inherit and grow old in with Chase abandoned--his sister had gotten a divorce. She said it wasn't a divorce, it was an annulment, whatever the difference was. Ana, and his nephew John Paul, had moved back in with Mama and Dad, and while it was a little crowded that wasn't the problem. The problem was that while his parents were content to keep any disapproval of his orientation silent and call that 'support,' Ana felt no such need.

He'd thought it would be tolerable. They were family, yeah? They'd find a way to get along. And if it got too bad, he could just get out of the house for a while. But then there'd been this whole pandemic. Getting out of the house hadn't been an option anymore.

The argument had played out a dozen times. Leo had been thankful, at first, that Mama and Dad wouldn't let Ana say these things to his face, though it might have been worse that he had to lie in bed and listen to them drift up the stairs. It always followed more or less the same route: Ana didn't think it was good for John Paul to be growing up in the same house as 'bad influences.' Mama would pretend to not know what she meant by that. Ana would insist she knew exactly what she meant by that. Dad would point out that Leo'd never brought home a 'friend' since he'd been back. She'd say that made it worse, that meant he was out there doing 'God alone knows what' with 'God alone knows who' instead of having a marriage and a family like 'those people CLAIMED they wanted!' Mama would counter that no, since the last relationship had broken off Leo hadn't dated at all. Well how did she know that? Well Leo had told her so! Hadn't it occurred to her he would just lie about something like that!? Leo wouldn't lie to his Mama, how dare you! Even if he's telling the truth, that just proves that the whole relationship had been a delusion from the start and the two of them should never have allowed their son to date other boys: well she didn't mean to make the same mistake, thank you!

Funny how, no matter how many times they had the argument, none of them ever said the words "gay" or "sex" or "boyfriend." Or "Chase."

Didn't want John Paul overhearing any of those 'bad influences', Leo supposed.

Eventually Leo had suggested that maybe everyone would be happier if he stayed in the shop apartment. Dad had insisted it wasn't necessary, but the relief that had flashed across Mama's eyes had been as obvious as lightning at midnight.

It wasn't as if anyone else wanted to live above an auto mechanic.

What had he done?

Occasional headlights from the road below rolled across the ceiling in the shapes of battered venetian blinds. The ceiling fan spun slow somnambulant circles above him. The sheets beneath him clung feebly at the sweat on his back fur. He paid no attention to any of it. Every scrap of thought he could muster was on the lingering taste of Will's cum on the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat.

It was somewhere between salty and bitter. Savory, maybe, was the word. It clung like the feeling of a hot dry day when you had just noticed you were thirsty. It tugged at the corners of his memory, like returning to a place you remembered from high school to find everything looks a little smaller than it should.

His eyes drifted to his phone, plugged in and charging on the windowsill. Not sure how long he'd been staring at it. He had Will's number, he could... no it had to be like 3 AM by now. And anyway, the instructions had been very clear: tomorrow, on his first break at work.

Why was he so determined to follow them?

What was he gonna be told to do when he did finally get to message the older coyote? Surely if it was too weird or extreme he wouldn't just... obey it. Would he?

What had he done?

***

"There he is," Will announced to nobody in particular. "Was about to drag the bed downstairs."

"No you weren't," Sam headed for the coffee, "You're too damn picky about where every last thing goes in this house to make that kinda mess." But to do that he had to push past Will at the stove, and that put him within range of being grabbed around the waist, of having a hand run up his chest, of getting several kisses up the neck, to the cheek, and eventually the final blow directly to the mouth.

The white cougar relaxed in the big coyote's arms, sank into the kiss, and purred gently, until someone else in the room said "Aww!"

Sam whipped his head around. "What're you still doing here?!"

Todd blinked sheepishly. "Uh, Will made me breakfast?" the otter ventured.

"What?" Will laid another plate of pancakes on the kitchen table. "He can't learn if he doesn't eat right, professor!"

"I'm gonna murder Cliff for coming up with that nickname." The cougar took a seat. "Aint you eating?"

"I already ate," Will hugged him from behind, over the back of the kitchen chair. "Somebody's gotta get up in time to make the coffee around here. Or cocoa in Todd's case."

Sam's sharp glare swiveled around back to the otter. "You've finally got your conscience alright about sucking dick, but you still won't drink coffee?"

"It's nothin to do with it being sinful!" If Todd had had the power to retract his head fully into his body he would have, "It just tastes gross!"

"Grosser than my cock?!"

"Well yeah!"

"You're crazy."

"You think so too!"

"What?"

"I don't see you putting sugar and half-and-half on a guy's dick before you go to town on it!"

"Alright you two," Will poured a cup for Sam, and another for himself. "Save the seminar till after the dishes're taken care of."

Sam looked at the black coffee he'd been handed, looked at Todd, pursed his muzzle and narrowed his eyes, then reached for the sugar.

"What're you up to today?" Will checked his watch but apparently didn't see whatever he was looking for.

"Photoshoot with Cynthia and the girls," Sam answered.

"I got a meeting with the county parks and rec," Todd grinned, "they wanted somebody from the department to weigh in on plans for a recreation area on Lake Emma!"

Will ignored Sam's baffled grimace. "You mind dropping him off, Todd? I might end up needing the truck."

"For a case?" Sam twitched an ear.

"Not exactly."

***

The side parking lot ought to be a decent place for privacy, in case he needed it. This used to be where Leo'd come to have a cigarette. He wanted one now, but if there was anything he was used to it was wanting things and not getting them, and he'd promised Mama he'd quit. He didn't have many people left to keep promises to.

Maybe he could keep one now.

> hey

No wait, that was all wrong, don't send that.

> texting as instructed sir

That's better.

So now what? Will hadn't said what was supposed to happen once he'd texted. Was he supposed to say something more, something sexy? Something submissive? ...was he supposed to be trying to impress Will with how submissive he could become, or did the fact he'd been told to text mean he'd already done that and he was just supposed to be patient out of submissiveness? Will hadn't responded yet. Should he text again? If the message hadn't gone through, would Will take that as disobedience?

Should he text him again?

Leo scoffed at himself. It was probably just taking a minute for the coyote to notice he had a message, stop freaking out. Was he really so desperate to have someone who wanted to hear from him that-

> Hey there, Pup. Looks like somebody knows how to be a Good Boy outside the bar too.

Leo felt his tail wagging like it was something he was watching happen to someone else, not doing himself.

Shit, what was he supposed to say now?

> i hope youre having a good day sir

Ugh, why had he said that?

> Pretty good, Pup.

> Thoughtful of you to ask, that's a Good Boy.

Fuck, just the memory of Will's voice saying 'Good Boy' like that was catching in Leo's ears and the back of his throat.

> What time you get off work this evening?

> Anything else you need to take care of?

> shop closes at 6 sir

> and not really sir i sometimes have supper at parents house but its not like a big deal if i dont

> Sounds good, sounds good.

The messages stopped. Was that it? Had he failed some kind of test he hadn't known he was taking?

Oh wait, no, Will was typing again.

> Gimme your work and home addresses, Pup. I assume you've got a lunch break coming up? If there's some place nearby to get a burger or something I'll meet you there. We'll talk over how this is going to work and what you're going to be, if you decide to do this.

Decide to do this? What was this 'this' he was supposed to decide to do?

But he had already sent the shop address.

> thats kinda my home address too sir

> uh there's a taco truck that always parks at the end of the street thats pretty good

> parking lot of the vacant office park on the corner

> And when are you on lunch?

> 1230 sir

> Alright, it's decided then.

Wait, what was decided? Or, well...

Maybe he should let deciding things be Will's job, not his.

> yes sir

> I'll meet you at this taco truck at 12:30 PM.

The message icon went dark.

Leo went back to work, with a tickling feeling in his head and a warm lead weight in his stomach. He dreaded what might be about to happen. He couldn't wait for what might be about to happen.