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As I mention on my page text, I am in the habit of performing what I like to call "illustrades"--in which I write a story, in exchange for the story's "commissioner" providing an illustration from a notable artist in exchange. Sometimes the commissioner is said artist, while other times, an outside party is involved--but either way, an artist gets something to post (possibly including pay), I get something to spice up the appearance of my gallery, the commissioner gets a story; everybody wins. And I can always use more PR.

This one was such an illustrade for the illustrious Dazen Cobalt, whom many of you likely know (or know of). Daz and I go way back, and she told me that she was very excited to get a story from me, which surprised me; I considered it quite an honor.

But enough of my blathering on. You people need a story! And a story you shall get.

---

3:14 AM, Saturday night. A balmy night in late June, where the clouds had moved in over the evening to trap the heat of day.

And the testicles of one Dazen Cobalt were aching needfully, aching in those no-nonsense-yet-tight-ish jeans.

They were the perfect jeans for a bouncer like him--the kind that showed off his assets and divine legs to all the pretty ladies and horny guys walking in the door of the bar, the kind that helped sort out those too drunk to be let into a club by forcing their hands into fevered, inebriated attempts at groping and fondling.

He usually let the ladies in anyway, though, if they weren't stocky. Clubs could always use a few drunk chicks to draw in the lonelier guys.

Heck, had it been a year ago, maybe two, he probably would have made sure a couple went home with him. It wasn't hard--half the time they'd fall asleep in the club waiting for his shift to end, and he'd easily heft them home over his shoulder. He was a gentleman, and wouldn't fuck them if they weren't awake, but the average time between waking and sex was usually less than five minutes.

He'd timed it more than once.

But there was this problem--a problem, if you could fairly call it that, really--that was ever-present, a weight on his shoulders (and often, on his balls) that even his muscular frame balked at carrying for so long.

Her name was Angela--"Angie" for short--and she lived at his house. Pretty, yes, though not drop-dead gorgeous; what shone more about her was her kindness and gentleness. Even around an often-brash figure like Dazen, and knowing full well what a "player" he'd been even with her right there to observe it, she treated him warmly, seemingly unconditionally so. There were no condescending remarks about his long line of sexual conquests, no disparaging lines about what a big lug he was and how sometimes he was sloppy or unkempt...in short, she'd become his best friend--one of his only real friends, to be honest--and now he had to grapple with emotions he didn't feel at all entitled to, that were directed at her.

Maybe it was the fact that she was so dependable and kind, or perhaps it was her simple acceptance of him, "warts and all," or maybe it was that they had a relationship that went well beyond a string of sordid encounters in Dazen's well-used bed.

Or maybe it was as simple as her smile--simple, caring, honest, no matter what he'd done or how big of a fool he'd made of himself.

Whatever the case, the attraction he felt had grown from something subtle to the all-coloring mass that it was now, and it had cowed even his amazing libido into a strange kind of submission--heck, he didn't even masturbate any more, for fear of her hearing him whisper her name as he imagined she was the one bringing him such intimate pleasure and passion...and not merely his fevered wishes and the hasty motions of his hefty mitts. He didn't bring any girls home, because he'd started to care what she thought about that--and frankly, now he craved the kind of Eros that came with making love to one you truly love...not just making Tab A and Slot B bang together repeatedly. Yeah, he could get people in bed that were mad for his body, his sultry panache, and his tireless endurance, but when they went home and disappeared into the masses once again, he would be alone, with no one near...

...but Angela.

He sighed. He lived close enough to work that he usually just walked; the night air was an antidote to the noise and lights and fumes of hours of being right in front of a busy club. His feet knew the way, but his mind often wandered, trying vainly to take his mind off the dilemma before him. He might only have a heart for Angie right now, but the chicks coming into the club with their tight tops and their sultry glances were impossible to ignore completely...particularly with less complicated parts of his physiology. There wasn't a boner to deal with right now, but the gnawing ache just inside his fly testified that that hadn't been the case for the entirety of the night.

It was a mixed bag that they had the house they did. It was a sprawling thing, purportedly previously owned by some drug magnate that the feds rounded up and hauled off to jail, leaving the house on the foreclosure market. A connection of his hooked him up with an offer for the place he couldn't reasonably refuse--he'd sell it some day and make a killing in profit, as long as he didn't let the place go to pot while he was living there. In the meantime, he had a mini-mansion to make payments on, but they weren't too hard of a burden on him.

Point was, it was big enough that he could often go days without actually seeing Angie around, particularly with their mismatched living/working cycles. By day she'd be out teaching little ones about the wonders of the world, while he snoozed the previous night's work off...by the time she returned, he'd be gearing up for the night, and it was fairly common that their paths wouldn't exactly cross. This was great because it helped him not think about how much he wanted to be the one she called her lover...

The downside was that it meant more time away from her kind face, her gentle demeanor, her smile like sunlight.

He muttered a curse under his breath. For years he'd prided himself on being the imperturbable, the ever laissez-faire Dazen Cobalt, stallion in the sack and mysterious-but-memorable gentleman no matter the place--a thing of whispered legend in the social circles of chicks, and of flabbergasted memory amongst the male-attracted guys. He'd cultivated an air of magnetizing allure for so long, despite evading any kind of lasting attachment to his "prey"... and yet here was the one gal who seemed immune to his "powers," and wouldn't you know it, she was the one he'd fallen for, despite how reflexively inappropriate it was to develop a crush on one's housemate.

Yet it was that same attitude that made it impossible for him to confess to that kind of weakness. Not only was it against his usual way, but it would be -so- awkward to have to 'fess up about having a diabolical crush on his housemate...it was so alien to his usual effortless seduction that he might as well be flying a UFO.

An alien abduction, he reasoned, might be a good solution. At least that way he wouldn't have to be stuck in the same house with that kind of limerence banging on his mind all the time...and space seemed pretty interesting.

She set the book down and stretched a bit on the couch. It was a huge thing, and there was always a depression in the middle of it where Dazen habitually sat while watching TV or playing video games. The Dazen Divot, they called it--it couldn't be helped, though, as Dazen was no lightweight.

The couch was built to at least marginally handle it, at least. The downside was that Angela, who in fact -was- a lightweight, couldn't sit atop anything but the center of it if she wanted her feet to reach the ground.

Just another reminder of how far apart they were, she thought to herself. The hollow he left in the couch cushions practically dwarfed her, even if it didn't also hold testament to their difference in species. There weren't many humans left in the world, as the anthropes had mysteriously arisen and populated it seemingly overnight. Some conspiracy theorists--mostly human, to be fair--hypothesized that some ancient cult was crossing timelines or causing some kind of advanced reincarnation that was replacing full-grown humans with full-grown anthro-morph animals, but no one really knew, and Dazen didn't talk much about his past, anyway...

She had always been grateful to him for being something of a protector...the world was different now, maybe not more hostile, but certainly more foreign--and she felt safer knowing that he was there. He and his strong arms, and his voice that rumbled like a thunderstorm over chocolate, and--

She noticed that her face was warm. Drat her blushes!

She blinked a few times, trying to re-center. The text had been one on educational theory, and she was attempting to skim it for details she could glean for use in her classroom. Not exactly the most fascinating of reads, which might have explained why her mind was wandering.

A distant rumble of thunder echoed through the empty air of the house. Summer thunderstorms...it was strange, to her, having grown up where summer usually just meant lots of hot dry air, to see downpours in the middle of the year. August just felt like a weird month for rain...

She glanced at the clock--8:22. Dazen was already at work. She hoped they had the decency to put up a canopy or something for him, standing out in front of the club, looking all pretend-menacing...but then, she knew he enjoyed that sensation of feeling like he was in power, of flexing that considerable bulk of his to make people think twice before messing around in -his- club...

Meanwhile, here she was, little teacher, home alone, in a couch built for someone more than half again her size, wishing she had someone warm to settle with and stay inside, sheltered from the spattering rain and grumbling thunder at the windows. How very spinsterly. Perhaps she should look into getting some kittens...

She sighed, set down her book, and turned sideways, lying down lengthwise along the couch--with her mind all wistful, she probably wouldn't be able to absorb much from the textbook anyway. The Dazen Divot made a nice curve for her back to relax in, when she did that. It was almost like being carried in someone's arms, like a little child... It was comforting, truly. She just wished that Dazen would replace a mere echo of his presence with real comfort, straight from his arms.

But how in the world could she ever ask for that? It was no secret that he'd been quite the profligately amorous fellow, bringing home a wildlife encyclopedia of anthropomorphics on a regular basis--of both sexes, even!--and while he certainly seemed to have toned that down lately, she didn't feel like she'd be able to fit into his lifestyle. A homely girl like her, with average boobs and average hair and average hips and nothing remarkable at all? What would he ever see in her that could compare to the trophies he claimed, then casually discarded, all within the space of one night?

Yet all the improbability in the world was mere cobwebs to the force of wishing, of imagination. Oh, she'd tried to scold herself for wishing he could be more than just friends to her, but doing so only seemed to make it more insistent in her mind that she seek it. She wanted to be the one to kiss him goodbye as he left for work, and to be the one warming up his bed for when he returned at night...she wanted to be the one with whom he spent his "breakfast" (her dinner, really) chatting amicably and sharing sweet nothings, and the one who received his truest, deepest words of love, beyond anything he might say to a pretty little thing he was borrowing for the night...

Oh, drat it all. She was still blushing, but now it held more shame, for wanting something she had no right to want. It was his life, wasn't it? Fate had given them a roof to share (and tons of space, to boot), but she couldn't foist herself upon his heart! It was his very way of life to be that free-floating, unattached symbol of virility, and who was she to try to change that?

... she still wanted to, though, dang it all. Sighing, she got up to go to the freezer. Perhaps her friends Ben and Jerry would be able to offer her some solace...

Dazen stood, thoroughly bored, under the EZ-Up the club usually used for selling tickets at outdoor venues, or when backlog trailed the entry line out the door. It kept him dry, sure, and if he didn't move around too much he wouldn't hit his head on the canopy's frame, but the weather was the reason they needed it in the first place...and he had to admit, it was better than being soaked all night.

That said, the usual club-crawl-types were not often the sort to run around in a downpour. Rain could be several kinds of fun to people who were already drunk--or at least the happy ones--but it had a way of discouraging people from dressing up and coming out in the first place. He wasn't a girl, so he couldn't be sure, but he had a feeling most chicks didn't like having water streaming down the insides of their little black dresses.

Which meant that it made Dazen's night much less eventful, for better or for worse. Hardcore drunkards would just go to uncomplicated bars, since there wouldn't be anyone to hit on at the clubs, and everyone else would just stay home.

It was kind of a shame, too, how quickly the rain had swooped in. Last night's harvest moon had been quite beautiful.

What was particularly vexing, though, was how alone it made him. He was less piteous by way of being dry, but the weather wasn't friendly by any standards, and with almost no one coming and going he had very little to do and very little to enjoy. So, naturally, his damned imagination kept butting Angela into his awareness.

It could have been nice, he thought, to have her here, so they could chat and keep close together to stay as warm and cozy as the brisk, damp air would allow, and maybe she'd fall asleep early and he could hold her up on his back and shoulders, supporting her legs like a rickshaw driver, and as she slept he could hum soft lullabies and think about how lucky he was...

He shook his head and growled quietly to himself. His imaginings were only ever growing more frequent and more sentimental of late. It seemed like forever since he'd gotten his rocks off, but aside from the occasional fit of blueballs, he didn't really seem to mind that as much any more...it just wouldn't be the same, with the girl running around in his head not being part of it.

He was torn, too. At times he'd try to get closer to Angie, seeking her out just so he could be around her...and then at times he'd force himself to avoid her, so he wouldn't have to be continuously tempted, as it were, by how much he cared for her.

It was like a game of cat-and-mouse, except that the mouse wasn't running and the cat was chronically indecisive. Or vegetarian. Or something like that.

He just hoped that it would end soon, somehow. He hated feeling like his claws had been cut, his fangs filed down and his heart softened to mush. For all his life it hadn't been him, so why did it have to be now?

Angie realized something was amiss when she looked for her car keys, just like she did every day, but was stopped short by the fact that her purse wasn't even in the classroom.

For several moments she panicked--what if a student had stolen it? Or the janitor? What if there was a stalker on the premises? Her mind instinctively went to wishing Dazen were there--he'd keep her safe.

She took a few deep breaths. Panicking wouldn't help her find it if she'd merely misplaced it. She slowed down her thoughts as best she could and mentally backtracked...she'd stayed a while to grade the children's essays, and she must have had her purse then because she kept a handful of red pens in it (as a teacher, you could never have too many)...then she'd started cleaning up, and had remembered that it was about time to prep Halloween decorations for the class. Ah yes, and then she'd gone to the supply closet, which automatically locked itself so that students couldn't help themselves...

Ah. That was it. Her purse was in the supply closet.

Unfortunately, it seemed that her keys were in her purse. She'd left the small room with her arms full of things to cut out and fold and laminate, and had neglected to take her purse with her.

Which might have been because she was half-imagining Dazen there in the little room with her. Drat her active imagination! And drat her absent-mindedness, too.

She was about to go find the janitor, who had a key to everything imaginable, when she realized that the principal had sent them all an e-mail saying that the janitor would be out for a few days with the flu. Ironically, he was a porcine fellow...

The school was quiet, too. She'd been peaceably preparing decorations, and hadn't kept track of time in the process, so it was almost 6--she'd noticed she should stop mostly on account of her stomach starting to growl.

Just in case, she did a quick walkabout of the school grounds--at least, what parts she could get in and out of without keys--but not a soul seemed to be around.

She sighed, and borrowed a child's coat from the lost and found. It was absolutely pouring down rain, and without her car keys, it was going to be a long walk home...but she didn't really have any other choice, and Dazen was probably already at work. Even her cell phone was in her purse, and the school office phones were locked up for the night...

Dazen yawned as he got out of bed. The clock read 5:42...which, to him, felt like sleeping in. -Late- sleeping in.

He always felt groggier the night after big events...Lady Fafa had played at the club, and security, for once, was actually difficult for a change. It figured that he'd work the one night the quirky celebrity would show up.

"We'll be busy tonight, sure," his boss had said, "but after what we had with Fafa, you deserve a night off. I'll call up Vinny and have him handle it tonight...we'll probably have a boring overflow tonight, and he doesn't have the suave factor you've got." Vinny was the boss' boar cousin, and what he lacked in brains he made up for in body mass--he weighed more than even Dazen, despite being a hand shorter. He was gruff and didn't handle crowds with the velveted-gauntlet touch Dazen possessed, nor was he anything to draw in the eligible ladies, but for nights with simple and guaranteed large crowds, he'd do fine.

The hybrid got up, reflexively scratching his balls. He winced as they twinged under his touch--there had been a lot of hotties wanting to see Fafa last night, and that wasn't even counting the popular singer's sexy entourage, made up of both sexes and a wide range of species.

He wandered to the kitchen, his stomach feeling more than a little grumpy from having gone so many hours without being tended to. It wasn't like he could eat while he slept, though, and he vaguely recalled a dream about hot dogs, which probably hadn't helped...he put together a bowl of cereal, but took the box and the milk with him--even upsized bowls weren't enough to accommodate his voracious appetite.

With so much sleep rendering him drowsy, his thoughts-per-minute count was a lot slower than usual. He blearily wondered where Angela might be. She did tend to take more time at school at the beginnings and ends of the school years, so it wasn't all that weird that she wasn't around at the moment. Heck, she might even be home, for all he could tell.

He noted through heavier lids than usual that the rain was monsoon-like outside. It made him kinda glad to not be outside for it, at least...Vinny probably wouldn't care, being a pig-type and all, but with a lot of fur, being wet was a serious drag.

He downed three bowls of cereal, then went to watch a DVD, figuring that perhaps once Angela got back, they could watch it together. It was one of the few things they ever did together, and it gave him a comfortable excuse to be near her without her being likely to notice that he often stopped watching the movie just to watch her for a while. He couldn't help himself, really, but it made him feel a little happier, at least, to feel like he was her guardian, watching over her and hoping for her happiness. He'd basically resigned himself to probably never getting to be more than that for her, at the rate things were going.

Netflix had delivered "431," an epic battle drama about ancient defenders of the Library of Alexandria ("tonight we dine in the Reference Wing!"), and he was two-thirds of the way through it when the doorbell rang. He was in a grungy-but-comfy band event T-shirt and his boxers, but he figured that whoever at the door was either impersonal and unnecessary enough to not care about scandalizing, or familiar enough that they wouldn't be perturbed (and possibly even aroused, instead!).

To his surprise, he opened the door and found a sopping-wet Angela, wrapped in a raincoat obviously a few sizes too small and visibly shivering.

The walk home had been abysmal. After the delivery truck had careened through an overflowing gutter and doused her with a wave of murky runoff, it almost seemed pointless to use the coat as an overhead umbrella substitute; the hood was more like a Jewish yarmulke cap on her, since it probably belonged to a fourth grader. She used it to try to keep in what heat she could, but her soggy clothes devoured her body warmth.

She walked quickly in an attempt to help her metabolism make up for the heat loss, but it was a losing battle, as she couldn't walk too fast for fear of slipping and falling, and navigating around large puddles was also something that required vigilance.

By the time their curiously large home loomed before her, she was shaking involuntarily. Her hands and feet were ice-numb, and she wasn't sure that she'd ever felt colder. She didn't have her keys, and her wet hands might have made opening the slick doorknob a near impossibility. She breathed a silent prayer and pushed the doorbell button with the heel of her hand, as trying to line up her shaking index finger was embarrassingly unproductive.

The seconds ticked by, marked only by the chattering of her teeth and the hushed roar of the falling rain. Her heart slowly sank, as it seemed Dazen wasn't home...

She was about to turn and see if perhaps the side gate was open, when suddenly the lock clicked and the door opened. There, radiant in sleepwear, was Dazen himself, his slightly-drowsy visage a beatific sight for her shivering eyes.

"H-hello, D-d-d-Dazen--"

"Angela! Why are you out there? Why are you so wet?! Get inside!" He paused for a moment, then took a step forward and scooped her up in his arms.

She'd never been so grateful to anyone in her entire life.

"I l-locked my p-p-purse in the s-s-supply c-c-closet," she said, teeth chattering audibly, her clenched jaws making speech awkward and forced. She stiffly tried to move her arms to help Dazen get off the now-useless outer coat, but she wasn't much help in the process.

"It's alright," said Dazen, shutting the door behind them with his elbow and storming off to the master bathroom with his sopping cargo in tow. "We're gonna get you warmed up."

The master bath was a glittering number with chrome and gold-toned fixtures, but the important feature was the shower vestibule with the heat lamp/fan. Someone before them had wanted a shower room that could be used a bit like a sauna, and for once they had a use for it. The tall hybrid flicked on the lamp switch as they made their way in, then shut the door behind them to trap its warming infrared rays in the small space.

The shower had a small corner ledge that was perhaps designed with handicapped people in mind, or maybe for ladies wishing to shave their legs in the shower, but at any rate it made a decent seat for the moment. Angela shivered in his arms, his legs now supporting her and serving as another gentle source of body heat. She felt it flow into her like sunbeams between parting clouds on a winter's day, restoring blood flow and helping her numbness to recede. Though the water had sapped her heat by being such a good conduit, now it helped conduct his heat into her, and his fur and clothes soaked up much of it by capillary action.

They sat there for a while, saying nothing. Her teeth slowed their chattering gradually as Dazen and the heat lamp rescued her from the sensation of never-ending cold. Finally she felt she could speak more normally, and did. "Thank you...D-Dazen..."

He hushed her gently. "When I saw you there, all soaking wet, teeth chattering, in some kid's coat, I was so worried...I'm just glad you're gonna be okay after what you had to go through."

"N-no, I mean...you're always h-here, and I know that if...if I ever needed you for an-anything, you'd do it for me..."

Something subtle changed in his expression. "...of course, Angela. Always."

"I f-feel like I don't deserve that, though...h-here you are, this giant hunk, and I'm j-just...just a human school teacher that no one cares about..."

"Angela...! Don't talk about yourself like that!" It was the most concerned she thought she'd ever heard him. "I care about you!"

"Nnh..." she said, feeling instantly ashamed, "listen to m-me, fishing for sympathy...you c-can have any girl you want, w-who am I to hope for a-anything more..."

"...what?" Dazen breathed, genuine confusion in his voice. She turned her gaze to him and saw shock on his face--something that almost never crossed the suave hybrid's expression.

"Dammit!" she said, feeling as though she might break down into tears. "Why did I say that?"

To her surprise, the giant hybrid embraced her more tightly in response. "Is it how you really feel, Angie?" he said, gently.

She suddenly felt fragile, like a slight shock might break her into pieces. "What? What do you--"

"Do you really want us to be something more?"

Folded more tightly as she was, she couldn't make out much of his face, and his voice was in a tone she practically never heard. Her mind reeled as she tried to figure out what to say. Should she be honest? Was he testing her? Was he going for an easy lay? Before she could decide, honesty and vulnerability moved her lips without her conscious consent: "...yes..."

Her body shifted as Dazen slumped somewhat around her. "...you have no idea how long I've been waiting to hear that..."

It was now her turn to be lost in shock. "What...?"

"Ugh...for the longest time, I've wanted to be...I don't know what. A lover, I guess, for you...but I couldn't bring myself to say it. I didn't want to lose what we have, being housemates and friends...and I felt like that would make things awkward if you said no..." There was none of his usual smoothness in his voice, no auditory smirk or humorous innuendo. It was like she could hear the everyday pretenses falling away, and somewhere at the middle was the inner Dazen, baring his heart.

It was so intensely romantic in a strange, gritty kind of way. She felt as though her heart was going to explode with the surging emotions that escaped with every word of confession.

"Dazen..."

"I will be for you...whatever you want me to be. I haven't jacked off in months because I worried you might hear me say your name...I stopped bringing lays home from the club because I didn't want you to think of me as a man-whore any more...I did all that, for you, but all that time I had no idea if it might be a huge waste, wishing for something I couldn't have..."

"Dazen, I--!"

"No--I mean--I'm sorry for interrupting, I just gotta get this off my chest...I know you're used to seeing me bag 'em and shag 'em, but I will go as slow as you want me to, I will do anything you ask me to...I don't think you can ever know how crazy I've been, just hoping we could be together, as more than friends."

She waited a few moments, in case he had more to say. "...Dazen..."

"And if hearing I've been such a lunatic all this time has made you think I'm creepy, I'll understand. I guess it might feel like you've had a stalker in your own house and didn't even know it..."

"No, Dazen, I mean..." She put a hand to his chest slowly, trying to draw nearer to him, even though her suspended position in his arms didn't give her much leverage to work with. "I guess you could say...the feeling's been mutual..."

"No..." he said, breathlessly.

"Really. For months now my mind has wandered back to you all the time, wishing that I could just be in your arms at all hours of the day and night...wishing that you could be my protector and my champion. But I never thought that I could hope to compare to the girls you brought home...they're so gorgeous and I'm just so...boring..."

"Angela, no..."

"You don't have to say it, Dazen. I don't have D-cups and I don't have blonde hair and I'm not tall or cover-girl or swimsuit-model material..."

"That's not it, Angie."

"Then I have to ask--how can you like me?" His tight embrace on her had slowly loosened, and now she looked at him expectantly, a touch of defiance inadvertently glossing her gaze.

"...I think," he replied slowly, "that it's because you've seen all of my flaws, you've seen all of my darker moods and how shallow I can be, but you're still here...you still care about me, you've been my friend, and that hasn't changed."

"Ah..."

"And your smile, too...it makes me feel like I'm doing the right thing by being something you can rely on."

She hadn't thought about her smile, but hearing it mentioned brought a small one out, unintentionally. "I...I don't know what to say..."

"Then I'll wait until you do. I've got the night off, and it doesn't look like the timing could have been any better."

A few moments of silence. Her mind was a whirl. "I just...can't imagine how lucky I could be to have the guy of my dreams crazy about me...here I thought I knew you so well, and that detail was so beyond me..."

"I have wanted to love you -because- you know me so well, Angie...no one else has gotten this close and still accepted me..."

She gave a little nervous chuckle. "...and here I am, getting mud and rain all over your boxers. I should shower off before I get you any wetter...I think I'm warm enough to let the shower water do the rest..."

"Oh," he replied, sounding a bit let down, though he began to unfold his arms to set her down. "Really, I don't mind--I'm wash and wear--"

"No, seriously, you should let me get the water running."

"Alright..." He let her feet gently to the floor, with all the care a mother might use with a toddler.

"But..." she began, a thought occurring to her...

"Yes?" said Dazen, a hopeful note reinvigorating his voice.

"In case I get cold again...would you stay with me for it?"

He rose, looking a bit shaky--a very unusual look for him. "...yes, if you'd like me to."

She nodded, her eyes a bit wide as the back of her mind whirled with realization of what she was asking. "Well, I mean...it's not like I haven't fantasized it before," she confessed, feeling a bit guilty for saying so, but unable to help herself. She began to peel off her soggy outer layers as she spoke.

He nodded, but stood stock-still. Uneasiness was plain upon his face.

"You're not going to shower in your pajamas, are you?" she asked him.

"Ah--you want me to shower naked with you?" he asked. His expression looked as though he might be blushing, though his fur made it impossible to tell.

But he wasn't the only one; she felt her face flush as well. "...yes, if you'd do that with me."

"Then I will. But...let me know if you're uncomfortable with anything I do...I would never want to make you feel uneasy..."

She nodded emphatically, wishing to be perfectly clear that she meant it. "I promise I will. Will you do the same?"

He tilted his head downward and gazed at his feet. Was it an expression of shame? "...at this point, I've done almost everything there is to do with a woman...I could only be uncomfortable if I wasn't sure that you were liking what I was doing..."

"Then, I guess...I should tell you what I want you to do?" She felt a bit like she was being asked to be a dominatrix, but the idea was strangely compelling...

"Yeah, please do that," said the massive male, sounding genuinely relieved. "I know it's a big difference from what I usually do, but...I feel like I want nothing more than for you to be comfortable, and happy..."

"Okay," she said, taking in a breath to help center her thoughts...it was still stunning that she was in this moment; while it wasn't exactly as smooth as many of her fantasies, this moment had the unquestionable advantage of being 100% real. "Well, if you wouldn't mind helping me first getting out of these soggy things," she said, "that would be helpful. And you don't have to stop yourself at any layer," she added, feeling the continued warmth in her cheeks anew.

He nodded slowly, and haltingly reached forward to help her with her shirt. She took the initiative to guide his hands to its hem, then raised her arms so he could shuck it off of her smoothly. Underneath now only remained her bra and her smooth torso.

He stopped to look at the wet article in his hands. "Uh..."

"Should we hang these over the top of the shower?" she suggested.

"I guess they'll get dried out quicker by the heat lamp that way," agreed Dazen, seeming glad she'd offered him an option. She had a feeling he was more used to ripping and flinging clothing without a care as to its placement, so this was probably pretty alien to him.

She unbuttoned her jeans and opened the zipper as he spread the shirt daintily over the rail for the shower. When he made no further move towards her after he finished with that, she again reached for his hands, taking care to guide his thumbs inside the waistband of her panties as she set his hands upon her hips. He blinked, then slowly began to crouch, drawing down the resisting denim with a sticky peeling noise.

She stepped out of her jeans and underwear as he pulled them to her feet, noticing that he was fixing his gaze upon the clothing and not any part of her anatomy. What a gentleman he was willing himself to be! She waited for him to place them over the railing, then turned her back to him. "My arms are still kinda stiff from being so cold...could you undo my bra clasp, please?"

She heard his breath catch as she finished asking, but in a few seconds she felt his hands carefully undoing the little closure, then peel it from her skin and draw it forward. She backed up and held her arms straight out so that he could draw it past her hands, without having to bend her arms too much to retrieve it (they really were a bit stiff, still!). She ended up smack against him, but to her slight dismay it felt a little less lovely than she'd hoped, as he was now the one wearing damp clothes.

"Thank you, Dazen...now, let me help you with yours a little bit...though you're so tall that I might need a little help myself!..." She turned to face him, revealing her B-cups in the process. They were quite stiff from the cold, but somehow it felt right to let him see them...she'd never dream of flashing a guy, but Dazen had for such a long time been something else in the depths of her heart; now was merely when assorted dreams were coalescing into one surprising and unpredicted reality.

She drew up the bottom of his shirt, slowly, but as it was only wet in what was basically a silhouette of the shape of her body, and atop fur rather than skin to boot, it wasn't nearly as difficult to remove...she took a slow breath of her own as his gorgeous torso was slowly unveiled, revealing his rock-solid abs one matched pair at a time, framed by obliques that lurked under the darker lateral colorations of his pelt...soon all six were exposed, and she had to shift from pulling upward to pushing, due to their height difference. He slowly used his hands to help her at that point, letting his pecs come into view like a rock overhang near the precipice of some craggy summit, then balled up the fabric and pulled it off over his head and arms, where Angie would have had no chance of succeeding unaided.

She took a moment to breathlessly survey the sight before her...Dazen had wandered the house shirtless on more than one occasion (that she'd witnessed, at least), but out of politeness and self-consciousness she'd done her best to avoid ogling him overmuch. Now, here he was, right before her very eyes, and there wasn't a restraint in the world that needed to stand between them anymore. She wanted to stroke his body, to feel it against hers...but there was a delicate dance they were dancing right now, and that would break up its measured movements. She instead let him toss his shirt off to the far corner of the mini-room they were in, as it would dry pretty quickly, and they were running out of railing space anyway. She then slowly reached out to his boxers and began to draw them down, noting that he stood stock still in the process.

She knew that anthropic species often had different anatomy than humans, so she wasn't all that surprised when a sheath was revealed as she drew down his only remaining piece of clothing...but she never expected that she might find it so appealing to have it right there before her eyes, and indeed there was some kind of primal aesthetic to it that made her approve of it by immediate instinct. Past towering, tree-trunk thighs and calves worthy of a hunter she pulled the article, then waited for him to step out of it before gently following his lead and lightly tossing them out of the shower compartment.

She took a step back, regarding him. She noticed that even when she let her eyes trail to his body, his own remained fixed on her face...was he nervous? She smiled gently up at him, and took a step back without turning aside, so as to reach for the faucet handle. "Well, let's get some steam in here..."

Problem was, she didn't usually use this shower...and it was set at a height suitable for Dazen, so she couldn't reach the nozzle. She wanted to turn it so that the initial gout of cold water from the pipes would spray harmlessly against the wall instead of on either of them, but to no avail. "Let me get that for you," said Dazen, stepping in to adjust it. She took the opportunity to squeeze by him, placing him closer to the nozzle in the process.

A few moments later, the cold water had been drained and hot water aplenty flowed. Dazen adjusted the nozzle so it mostly went by his shoulder and cascaded onto her, but some was still intercepted by sheer dint of his height and bulk, setting a few trails of water coruscating down his body, running rivulets between muscle groups.

The warm water felt undeniably wonderful, and she couldn't help but luxuriate in the feeling of it. She let out a pleased sigh with just a touch of grateful moan to it. "Ahh...that's so nice...thank you for getting it nice and warm for me, Dazen..."

He smiled a bit. "You're welcome, Angela...what else can I do for you?"

She stood and looked at him for a moment, the stark figure slowly becoming even more cut-looking as water matted down his pelt. It occurred to her again just how lucky she was to have become the object of this stud's attention. "Well...let's turn sideways so we can both get water...and then I'd like you to wash my back, if you don't mind...I can't reach it so well."

He nodded and turned sideways so they could both fit in the stream, but his facial expression betrayed a little confusion. "How do you mean..."

She answered his question by moving aside him, such that they essentially took up the entire width of the shower space, and embraced him, causing his arms to reflexively rise and come forward a bit, wrapping perfectly around towards her back. She smiled up at him, knowingly.

"Oh." He paused for a moment, then chuckled and reached for a bottle of "Claw" shower gel nearby. "Is cologne-scented okay?"

She nodded, still looking quite pleased. "I think smelling like you for a day is a fair price."

"Alright, but don't blame me if you find out who all the lesbian teachers are tomorrow..." He squirted a bit onto his palms and began to lather her up.

She savored the sensation of his touch--gentle, yet strong, with hands big enough to easily palm her face like a playground ball and slightly rough pads on its surfaces, mixed with the softness of his fur, the warmth of the water, and the ticklish fizz of the soapy bubbles sweeping over her back...she had a feeling that after this, she might never want to shower alone again.

As she sensed he might have been meaning to draw his hands back, perhaps to allow for a rinse, she turned in place, pivoting her body so that his soapy hands were moved to unscrubbed places on her front. He got the tacit message with a bit of a bashful grin and continued soaping her up, though he moved more slowly around her breasts...she had a feeling he wasn't sure if she'd think he was groping her unfairly, but as she reclined against his corrugated torso, she placed her arms sort of on top of his (at least, to the extent she could) as they moved, implicitly encouraging him to continue.

Once he'd basically run out of places to suds up, she reached for the gel herself. "Alright, big guy, your turn." She took an extra-large dollop: not only was Dazen bigger than her, but fur would soak up more suds, just like shampoo on thicker or thinner hair.

Between the water and the suds, somehow the feeling of his body under his fur was intensified, sharpened, accentuating details that the eye might miss. Faint striations in the muscles teased at her fingertips as she reached up to soap his chest, and the tight fibrous bands that made the divots between the prominences of his abs felt full to bursting in that moment. Her nose filled with the luscious, masculine aroma of the gel as she worked up his front to a rich lather.

While Dazen's front was more of a symphony of angles and lines, when she got him to turn around so she could do his back (she had to move out of the way, as he was almost as wide as the shower when perpendicular to its axis), she discovered that it was more like a contour map, rich with sculpted mountains and curvaceous valleys. Slight movements had more of an effect upon it, causing what looked like tectonic shifts under the gorgeous landscape. His striping and pelt tones only added to the spectacle for her eyes, even if her fingers were as much a part of the sensory delight of it all as her sight. Tracing the angle of his lats felt like taking her hands on a roller-coaster ride, and the tight muscles of his lower back testified to the immense strength of his core.

She stepped aside to let him rinse off; he needed to have more freedom to turn than would be wise to attempt with her standing immediately next to him. But once he finished, she drew close to him, letting the water wash over both of them from behind his head and shoulders. Her body sought his in an embrace, as though to reassure her of the miraculous reality of the moment, and he slowly enfolded her with his own arms in return, the warmth of the water and his body comforting her, body and mind.

Slowly, as though of its own accord, her body began to slide a bit from side to side amidst their embrace--perhaps she subconsciously sought to feel the contours of his body with as much of hers as possible, perhaps she loved the feeling of soft fur sliding across her bare torso, or perhaps she just liked to feel like she was in a slow dance--though she never did ascertain why. As she did, a developing warmth of an even greater intensity slowly brought her out of her silent reverie in Dazen's arms, and she drew back just a bit to determine what.

While Dazen's sheath had seemed quite a wide specimen from the get-go, it was now wider than ever, and where its pink tip had lightly protruded from its opening before, how the entire head had come forth. She heard Dazen draw in a breath through his teeth as the hybrid realized she'd noticed his burgeoning erection, though for the moment, it didn't seem to be actively swelling.

For a moment she merely stopped and gazed upon it, as she remembered how Dazen had curtailed his sexual activities out of perceived deference to her. She decided that she would reward him for that--after all, wasn't this another one of her fantasies? She drew her hand along its length, from the base of his sac to the protruding tip of his shaft, using a gentle touch. Clearly he was quite sensitive at the moment, as an immediate throb was elicited by her touch. She smiled up at him. "Shall I?" she asked, simply.

When his eyes unclenched as the momentary surge of pleasure passed, the look that he gave her was another one she didn't think she'd seen from him: a petitioning look, one of desperate need. "Gods, yes, Angela..."

She cupped his testicles in one hand and massaged them gently, knowing they were probably erogenous as all hell at that moment, while with her other she laid her palm upon his sheath and applied light pressure as she stroked upward, as though encouraging its contents to ascend and emerge. An immediate growl from Dazen made her look up at him in a start, but it was clear that it was due to the intensity of what he was experiencing--not displeasure. The response of his shaft was also prompt and rapid, and before long the entirety of it had emerged, already fairly turgid and heated with his blood.

Given how large it was already, she had a feeling that it would be best to start stretching for it sooner, rather than later, and so she took the head of the shaft into her mouth, using her one hand to guide it from the base while the other continued to tend to those heavy testicles below. The moment her mouth closed around the shaft, Dazen gave another growl, though this one was mixed with a more human-sounding noise of exclamation as he lurched back and braced himself against the back wall and side of the shower. It was a miracle that his loins had remained in mostly the same place, as if he'd moved too far he might have yanked it out of her mouth, and there would be no telling what her teeth might have caused in that situation...

While she was no savant in oral pleasure, neither was she completely naïve, and so she plied what expertise she could muster. Dazen became a vocal mess, streaming forth inarticulate and guttural growls, moans, purrs, and shouts in all manner of combinations, and though he writhed in many ways he always somehow kept his hips in about the same place, much to their mutual satisfaction.

She attempted to deep throat it once or twice, but the girthy spire (it had to be at least nine inches, she thought!) was more than she could handle...perhaps in the future, with more experience, it would be a feat she could muster. Dazen seemed to be enjoying every moment of it, though, even without, so she decided to let it be.

When he first addressed her, she thought that in the throes of passion he was merely saying her name out of delight, but when he uttered it again, with greater insistence, she stopped and took notice: "Angela...Angela!"

"Mm--yes, Dazen?"

"Ah--oh gods...that's fantastic but--but if you keep that up, I'm going to climax in no time..."

She stopped to think about this...on the one hand, it would be quite nice, but would he have it in him to take her another way as well, that night? Pleasuring him was arousing her, too, but any wetness she might have mustered on her own would be indistinguishable from the waters of the shower. "You're right...we can't have that if you're going to make love to me, like a proper lover..." she said, giving him another knowing smile.

He stared down at her in disbelief, his shaft throbbing in the air between them with the beat of his heart. "...really? You're going to--to let me do that?"

She nodded slowly. "I realized...we've both wanted this for so long. Why hold back now? We've probably both already done it to each other a hundred times over in our own fantasies...this time it just won't be imaginary."

He took a step forward and hugged her tightly, lifting her bodily in the process. "Thank you--!"

"Mmf!" she said, as the embrace squeezed air out of her. "Well, just promise me you'll be careful with that thing, Dazen...you're bigger than any guy I've ever been with..."

He set her down gently and shut off the water as he nodded. "I promise you that I'll do whatever I can to keep from hurting you...which is something I almost never promise anyone, you realize..."

"And I treasure that," she said. "You are making me feel special, in a way no one ever before has..."

They got out and dried off, which would have been more sensuous were it not such a laborious process to get as much water out of Dazen's fur as possible. The heat lamp helped a bit, but the one mirror was fogged beyond all usefulness with all the humidity in the air.

Then she led him by the hand to his bed, sat down upon it, and scooted back. "I'm ready for you, Dazen..."

He crawled onto the bed hastily, but carefully, his shaft having not once descended since she'd cajoled it into erection. "...tell me if I go too fast, and I'll slow down...I don't want to hurt you," he said.

Seeing him straight above her like this caused her mind to reel momentarily--with a foot and a half of altitude on her, let alone more body weight by a factor that would be ridiculous to calculate, imagining Dazen letting loose in bed was like imagining a tornado visiting a shantytown. But she nodded, and raised her hand to place them upon his chest. It was arousing to feel the strength there in those muscles as they held him over her like a dusky sky, like the ceiling of a fortress or the arch of a hall of luxury. It would be something to help take her mind off the pain that would be likely to follow.

She could see him clenching his teeth as he lowered that searing shaft between her thighs, and she realized that it was all he could do to keep from rutting into her like a wild animal in heat. In her heart emotions flared for the noble restraint he was showing her, out of care and love--at least until they finally met her lips, and began to part them wide. Initially it was a ticklishly pleasurable sensation, but soon the stretch was more considerable, and a gnawing ache began to accompany it.

She grimly set her teeth and waited as Dazen continued to push into her. She was grateful for the gentle series of licks upon her neck and jaw that he gave her, and the sultry bass of his voice moaning with delight was a reward in itself. Before long the short fur of his loins grazed her clitoris, sending an arpeggio of pleasure along her nerves.

He lingered there, hilted deeply within her. She focused on breathing, on the sound of his breath, the feeling of his body above and around her, trying to divert from the soreness of his girth. Already she was amazed that she could accommodate his length, but his width was comparable to a can of body spray--not something she generally considered trying to insert into herself. She had to admit: her fantasies didn't include that part, even if they -did- always have him being decently enough endowed.

As her tension and anxiety slowly ebbed, her body loosened around his lance somewhat, and in doing so the discomfort waned dramatically. He'd tended to her body, a hand roaming her torso, her neck, her breasts, gently fondling, a featherlight touch here, a deft press here, and all of it felt like she was the instrument of some virtuoso of a symphony of passion. She had no idea how he was managing to hold back his primal instincts, but if he hadn't she might already be bleeding...and instead she was sinking into an ocean of bliss; while for now she was still in the shallows, with the tide ebbing and flowing around her, already she could feel the undertow lapping at her heels, and she wanted to follow it. She nodded again.

Slowly he pulled back out, leaving a curious but satisfactory sensation in his wake as the intruding mass withdrew. He only pulled back part of the way, however, leaving in just under half before smoothly reversing direction. Then, upon hilting again, he continued the trend of continuous motion, and did not halt or hesitate to reverse yet again.

This was, in fact, heaven to Angela. His length and girthiness, now that she could accommodate it, was causing alternating sliding sensations along and feelings of compression and extension upon her G-spot, and the tension in the wall of her canal from his width was intensifying the effect in a way that outclassed any of her previous lovers like a major-leaguer outclasses a little-leaguer. His pelt was feathering at her clitoris with so many of his movements, providing just the right level of stimulation, and his expertise at remaining always in motion left the sensations persistent and unrelenting. She began to give quiet but delighted moans, calling Dazen's name gently. He responded with kisses, placed with a sense for variety, yet somehow always finding the right erogenous tickle with each one to keep her continuously riding a tidal, unflagging wave of bliss.

He slowly stepped up his movements, making it seem like movement along a spectrum rather than abrupt changes, letting increased momentum and speed rise slowly and naturally, carrying both of them higher and higher, searing their shared bliss ever brighter, ever hotter into their psyches. Her hands roamed his body now, feeling the motions of the muscles in his arms and core as he rocked back and forth, rocking the bed, rocking her body and mind, just as an earthquake rocks the ocean into a tsunami--at sea one can scarcely see it fluctuating but, but at landfall it becomes an all-encompassing force, irresistible and endlessly potent.

He had less time for gentle kisses and expert touch as their coupling became more and more fervent, their cries growing louder, hastier, and less articulate. The howls of a winter storm could scarce compare with the hunger that rose in their shared voice, as pleasure became as one between them, the focus of mind, body, and soul. A thousand fantasies paled in comparison to this one moment of much-longed-for togetherness.

She could scarcely see now, for stars erupted in her vision with each primal thrust, and her eyes were half-lidded, lost to the world as she was in a haze of euphoria. The strength she had so admired was now racking her body with an inconceivable delight; the arms she had so longed to be held in now were astride her, providing the force with which she was being coupled. Sex in the past had seemed lovely, but this was something beyond that--there was love to be had here, love, and need, and secret wishes coming true. It lent a note of destiny to their lovemaking that left it feeling so right, so perfect.

She had no fewer than three orgasms along the way, but it was hard to tell where one ended and another began...the changes in her folds that normally were so finicky to provoke came effortlessly now, without forcing or pretending, and they lasted and lasted, ebbing and flowing as though in a grander cycle and tempo...only by the stronger feelings of implosion, of submersion in the abyss of immense bliss could she guess where one peaked, but in between, Dazen's relentless rutting kept her riding a tidal wave of inexorable euphoria.

As she heard his tone becoming abruptly wilder, fiercer than it had before, her hands happened to sweep down to the very base of his abs, and a mangled combination of growl and roar tore from his chest as he suddenly hilted into her with incredible might...a few more strokes followed then, more powerful than the ones earlier, and with them she felt as though the bed were falling away beneath her, ready to drop her bodily into that ocean of bliss she'd been dunked in three, four, or perhaps five times already--and as he gave a final roar and emptied the long-pent-up essence of his virility into her, she fell away into that all-consuming cocoon of total pleasure, the height of his passion sending her farther over the brink than ever before, such that the world around her seemed to vanish completely for several ineffable moments.

As she came back to the room, still quite high with the numinous bliss of the moment but regaining some sense of reality, she felt that he was continuing to pump his seed into her, his body fervently tight with the tension of orgasm. She shakily reached up to him, and he dropped his body low and close to hers, not placing his weight upon her, but letting her have that complete closeness as he surged through the last several seconds of his climax.

The room felt rosy and warm as they both collapsed into the well-earned afterglow. She could feel the weight and heat of his gift deeply planted inside her, and felt in that moment a closeness to him that she would never forget, having not known for all this time how fulfilling it would be to finally receive it. He slowly rolled her onto her side as he did the same, so that they were facing each other, but each now supported exclusively by the bed.

"Oh, Dazen..." she said, her voice shaky with the complete lack of control her mind-blowing orgasms had brought about, "Thank you, so, so much..."

He'd continued to hold her close even as they rolled over, and still his shaft was solidly implanted into her inner passages, despite the amazing potency of his own climax. "I...hadn't expected we would get to go so far so soon, but damn...you're so tight, and damn if I didn't feel every one of those orgasms you had! I don't know how, but...somehow they made it easier for me to hold off longer, longer than I should have lasted after not getting any for so long..."

"Promise me one thing," said Angela, breathlessly.

"Anything, Angie."

"Don't ever hold back more than you did tonight...that was the most amazing thing I've ever experienced..." She really wasn't sure how much more she could handle very soon, but she was going to get better, and she could only imagine how much better it would be with Dazen giving her even more than she'd experienced that night.

He chuckled in his beautiful bass. "You say the word, Angie, and I'll take you deeper and further than ever before, as much as you can handle..." He gently stroked the side of her jaw, looking into her eyes with a gentleness that made her melt inside.

His mention of "deeper and further" made her quaver a bit, and for a moment ghosts of the night's orgasms teased at the borders of her awareness, sending a shiver down her spine. "Ahh..."

"Are you shivering?" he asked, playfully. "We can always put you in the shower again, y'know...I've got all night, just for you..."

She boxed him playfully on the chest, though weak as she was from their lovemaking, it was scarcely a light tap. "I don't know about another shower, but...what you just did warmed me up pretty well...what's your endurance like, tiger?"

He winked. "That was more of a workout than most times I hit the sack, but...gimme half an hour, and we'll see."

She might be sore in the morning, but the school would likely have pity on her for the accidents of the previous day...for now, she would have to make the most of the night.