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I managed about four hours sleep before the sound of heavy breathing and the occassional sleep-induced grumble roused me from the nightmares. I opened my eyes and found the dark tanned face of Isaiah mere inches from mine. My eyes opened wide as I looked down and found he was nude as well.

What was he doing here? I had left him, clothed, on a couch in the common room with a spare bed sheet thrown over his unconscious form. He'd been breathing and slipped into a deep sleep, when I left him.

I crawled slowly out of bed and was almost free from the overall awkwardness of it all when Isaiah's large, long-fingered hand wrapped around my slender wrist.

He looked up at me with heavy-lidded green eyes and looked...beautiful.

"Sorry for coming in here, uninvited," he grumbled in his half-asleep stupor. "I didn't want to be alone last night."

"You don't strike me as the type to be insecure," I tried to joke.

"I found out my whole family was killed and then I was brutally assaulted in public. I think it warrants some minor insecurities," he breathed. He huddled against the pillow, hand still holding my wrist, not squeezing, just holding. He smiled sadly as fresh tears spilled from his pale, green gaze.

I didn't want to upset the werecroc anymore. I opened my mouth to say something, some kind of apology when the larger man suddenly moved in a blur of tanned skin.

His arms wrapped around me as I toppled back to the bed. My forearms took the impact against the mattress, while Isaiah lay his head against my chest and let the sadness envelop him.

Deep, racking sobs escaped him. I touched his shaking shoulders and let him cry.

Minutes later his sobs turned to whimpers, and eventually he stilled in my arms as I held him. He rolled his eyes up and looked at me with that saddened green gaze. He pulled himself up my body, until he was on all fours above me and I was lying back against the sheets, looking up to meet his gaze.

His lips were full and kissable, his gaze full of something darker than before, something that was less helpless and more dominant. This dominance was different than Linus' idea of dominance though. This was an understanding said through that look in his eyes, an understanding that he meant no harm and that the only desire he had when he looked at me was one filled with a fleeting, burned passion that would trail pleasures over the body. This fire would tickle and warm the heart and soul. Not engulf and sear like Linus' idea of passion.

Looking at Isaiah, I realised that some small part of me needed someone like this, needed someone who didn't want to hurt me and would hold me when the world got too chaotic and full of big, bad monsters.

I then realised, he was naked and he was male. A glance between our bodies told me he wasn't completely unhappy to be there.

I panicked. Memories of a serpentine tongue wrapped around me and hissing laughter as orgasm racked my furred body stabbed through my mind like a knife. I scrambled backwards from underneath the werecroc and fell backwards to the floor with a thud.

I huddled there. Upside down, legs in the air as I exhaled and fought the blush that spattered across my face.

"Are you alright?" Isaiah asked as he loomed over the edge of the bed and looked down at me.

"I'm good...just had a Linus flashback," I replied. I rolled over and slowly stood up. I glimpsed the bulge that had formed beneath the groin of my bottoms. It seemed I hadn't been one hundred percent unhappy to be underneath Isaiah after all.

I sighed. Even in an institution that was designed to torment and torture its students both mentally and physically, I still managed to have awkward moments like these that every youth around my age encountered sooner or later. I found some solice in that, considering how my life was turning out.

"I'll get dressed and go." Isaiah looked around and asked, "Do you know where my bottoms are? I don't remember taking them off."

Suddenly a knock came at the door. It opened before I could respond. Miles stepped inside, holding Isaiah's bottoms in his hands.

He looked up and took in the scene before him; a naked, excited werecroc kneeling on the end of the bed, and me tenting pretty badly in my bottoms as I stood in front of the croc.

Miles flushed pink, apologised furiously and slammed the door behind him as he escaped.

I sighed again. What was wrong with me? Why did I attract all the bad luck?

Isaiah and I exchanged an embarrassed smile.

True to his word, Isaiah went, took his bottoms from Miles' apologetic grip, apologised himself for being a supposed 'burden', and then left me alone with Miles. Not a good thing considering how panicked Miles seemed to be around social situations like these.

"W-What? I...didn't know...I mean...I didn't mean to..."

"Forget about it, Miles. Shall we go check out the library?" I turned and went back into my bedroom, "Let me just take a quick shower and get cleaned up." And with that the topic of Isaiah ended between me and Miles. I felt like I owed it to Isaiah to be quiet about what had happened down at the docks, about him being in my bed naked, about his breakdown and about his apparent desire for me all of a sudden. No. This was between me and Isaiah. Between the wolf and the croc. No one else.

For now at least.