Angel of the Morning
(this is a resubmission of a former two-part story, now combined into one single read)
Author's Note: The following is a work of furry fiction, and may contain acts of violence, implied drugging, angst, and yiffery between both consenting and non-consenting males of different species. Like always, if any of this squicks you or for some reason you're not allowed to read this, you're under no obligation to stay here. If not, please read and enjoy...
FEEDBACK always welcome to: [email protected]
Angel of the Morning ©MMII, MMIII Whyte Yoté
The colors just weren't coming out right. First, it had been the cyan, now the magenta was off and their faces looked like some Bob Ross reject painting.
"Shit, this is not funny," Dallas muttered to himself, regretting not having set the camera's color balance to manual. The Kale family, whom he had just finished photographing earlier that day, did not look like foxes at all, but like mutated weasels with muddy fur. There was no way to alter the presentation prints, so he would have to call up Mrs. Kale and ask for a reshoot. Free, of course, not that it cost him the $75 sitting fee he charged; it was more of a bother than anything.
Dallas sighed, turned off the enlarger, and walked out of the darkroom he had built in his home. It wasn't more than a crawlspace underneath the basement stairs, but it suited his purposes fine. It was all he had accomplished in eight months, but Dallas counted his blessings. He was grateful to be alive; he had tried every day to reflect on life, but more and more the idealistic fantasy of his recovery had been quickly replaced by bills, bad days, and a failing career as an independent photographer.
He went to the living room, sat down and winced (more out of instinct than anything else, they had broken his tail in three places, three, and you don't want to know how much that hurts when you can't control your wagging) as he sank into the black leather. It was 5:30pm on a Friday night, and here he was working, trying to please people he hated photographing, for not enough money, and the bills were piling up. Too many things had gone wrong since April, too many things to think about and that the pills couldn't cure. The fox got to thinking of this more and more often, sometimes for hours until he sobbed uncontrollably, the weight of the world pressing down on his oh-so-small shoulders. He would fall into a fitful sleep for ten, eleven hours and wake up exhausted. A lot of the time it was the pills that were all that kept him conscious.
This is no way to live, buddy he thought, and felt his face working, his muzzle trembling until a loud cry escaped him. "Shit! No! I don't need to deal with this tonight."
(Oh but you will you little fucktoy take it all and I'll do ya a favor and make it quick)
"You didn't kill me," he told himself, fighting his emotions and slowly winning. "And I'm still here and whatever happens, happens." That had become Dallas' motto, his inner voice, saying everything was all right and his ghosts couldn't come back to strap him up and cut him again, like they had enjoyed doing slowly the first time.
"This is silly, I need some action. People-watching always cheers me up." At least it would be a quick, if not permanent, fix. He gathered up his equipment, a few extra rolls of film, and headed out the door to his car.
* * *
The drive downtown took only nine minutes, but Dallas took his time to take in the scenery. It had been so long (since April, he thought) that he felt like he could smell everything, even the cold December air. He could smell the sharp odor of exhaust, the water plant across the river, and even the faint beginnings of snow approaching lazily from the west. He parked off the main drag, removed his camera, and soon found himself lost in his "picture-eye", the perspective he used to spot potential photographs. He made his way along the side streets, candidly shooting people doing the things they do at night: walking their pets, last-minute shopping, drunkenly weaving in between parked cars.
After about 45 minutes, Dallas realized he had shot almost three rolls of film. "Jesus Christ, those are going to be fun to develop," he muttered to himself. Usually when he shot this fast, he got a lot of great pics. He considered returning home to start, thought better of it, and decided to have a couple drinks at a club. He picked Tronix, a techno joint he had heard good things about, and walked inside.
The club was filled with lasers, pounding bass, low light and high testosterone. Dallas practically got light-headed from the smell of male body in the place. Everywhere, muscle-packed fur and sweat mingled with the beat under the lights on the dance floor. Whoa, a gay bar he thought, cursing his friend for not telling him beforehand. The lithe fox could feel his pulse increasing in his ears (they were fucking my tailhole they were all gay) and down into his chest. He swallowed (but they were rapists don't stereotype) and hurried up to the bar.
A wolf who easily topped 6'-6" came over to his seat. "What can I getcha kid; dollar off taps, special Bacardi, top shelves and juices."
"Tonic and lemon, just tonic and lemon for now," he squeaked out, and realized he sounded 10 instead of 23. Dallas watched as the wolf poured the drink, expertly tossing the bottle and squeezing the lemon just right. Normally, Dallas liked to squeeze his own lemon, but he couldn't take his gaze off the wolf bartender's leather pants, noting how they covered everything yet hid nothing...
What the hell?
Not dropping a single ounce from more than two feet up, he passed the drink down to Dallas' hand. "Um, thanks," he stuttered as the bartender rang up the tab, not quite believing what he had just thought. He had done the bisexual thing a little in college, that consisting of a quick suckoff. He had exposed himself to a friend when asked. The oral had been quick and in the car, but the experience had left a mark. He had even promised to reciprocate later, but never returned the guy's phone calls. Now, he realized, it would have been the decent thing to do, at least.
Poor badger must have hated me.
He sat quietly, sipping the tonic, and noticed he was getting a few stares from other patrons. They weren't "he doesn't look that gay" stares, either; more like "nice piece of vulpine, yes, positively delectable". He blushed underneath his copper fur, noticeably in his ears. Embarrassed, and not a little flattered, he pushed away from the bar and walked/ran to the bathroom. He splashed water on his face, cooling his ears enough so that he looked respectable.
Back at the bar, the looks were gone and Dallas felt a little more comfortable. He settled into fur-watch mode again and sat, observant, still feeling slightly warm around the ears.
"That gonna do ya, guy?" the wolf asked. Dallas nodded his head, gave the bartender a five and told him to keep it. As he finished his drink, he was struggling to focus on the action. Must be the smoke or the lights or something, he thought, but that little nagging part of his brain kept saying drugged you're drugged get out or you'll die in the mud like April get out now.
"What's going on?" he said loudly to no one in particular. "Man, I don't want to drive home like this." He made his way to the door, the world changing colors and shifting like an old black-and-white movie slipping off its reel. He managed to get out the door before his balance gave out and he sprawled across the cold hood of a car. His reflexes failing him, it was all he could do to curl up into a fetal ball under the car that's got to be it cold metal and hope no one found him and decided he was just too cute to pass up, not in this part of town.
* * *
Faint echoes of darkness swept over Dallas' mind, things he didn't dare listen to nor want to hear. Pain swelled in his head, his pulse pounding so hard he could feel it in his furtips. His eyes opened, slowly and blearily, and focused reluctantly on the room before him. Boxes, piled high, and shipping crates. He was back in that goddamned warehouse eight months ago when part of him (or part of his heart, probably both) died forever, innocence lost to the whim of sex.
Three forms came into view they always come in threes don't they and Dallas could make out who they were: a snow leopard, tall and sleek under his black spots; a Doberman Pinscher, muscular and obviously horny; and a dragon, obsidian and the most menacing of the group. All were male, all were naked, and all had major erections.
Dallas had been roped into a rack-like contraption, stripped of clothing, feeling groggy and disoriented. Immediately he knew what these furs wanted: sex, whether or not the victim was willing. Dragon walked over to Dallas, deftly stepped behind him, and promptly broke his tail in two. Dallas heard the snap and felt the excruciatingly painful waves that engulfed his rear end and threatened to make him pass out. He screamed, a sound that both surprised him and his captors. Dragon took Dallas' open mouth and kissed it forcefully, extending his serpentine tongue deep in his victim's throat. Dallas stopped screaming, eyes wide in pain, but did not react. Dragon pulled back and whispered, "well, that's good for a start. I hope we get to use that strategy again."
Dallas collapsed (as much as he could on that rack thing) and began to sob quietly. He felt terribly ashamed of doing this, but he was going into shock and didn't know what else to do.
"Fuckin' vulpie," sneered Doberman, "is he gonna cry like this all night or are we gonna have to drug him like the last one?"
"I'll gag him if he does," Snow said. "If they pass out they can't clench on my cock. I don't like it when they don't play along."
"Don't worry, I think he's an obedient little redhead. He won't want to cross us, not at all." Dallas detected a slight British accent, the kind a Bond villain would have, and that Dragon had smeared pre all over the fox's right thigh. Dragon brought his clawed hand up to Dallas' muzzle, also covered lightly in sticky fluid. "Lick it, fox," he growled softly.
Dallas winced instinctively, instantly feeling a shot of pain as the black reptile, red eyes afire, gripped his tail and pulled hard. He screeched like a girl, and once again felt the blood draining from his face. "Okay, okay, please...just don't do that anymore." He tentatively stuck his tongue out and obediently licked Dragon's claws clean until they shimmered in the low light there were candles they flickered it would have been slightly romantic in any other situation. The fluid was salty and just a little bitter, but nonetheless Dallas found his sheath tightening slightly just at the taste of it.
"Very good, you're learning quickly," Dragon murmured in his ear, then licked inside it. Dallas shivered, further excited and realized with not a little horror that his cock had started to poke out a bit.
"Look who's hard now," Doby said, massaging his own knot absentmindedly. "Whaddya say you and me show him a good time before we're done with him?" This to the snow leopard.
"Good idea. You take his ass, and I'll suck him, since I'm the best at that."
"Yeah, you were always the sub. Gawd, what a bitch!"
Snow came over and grabbed Dallas' balls, gently massaging them and exciting him further. The feline pulled his sheath back and down, exposing the shaft all the way down to the knot. Dallas' breath became labored and erratic now, all the pain in his tail replaced by the new stimulation he was getting from the snow leopard. He would have done anything for release, and little did he know he would pay for it dearly.
"That's it, nice and hard just for me, right? It's all you want, the only thing that matters. Jesus Christ, this is going to be fun!" Snow yelled out to his buddies. Dragon and the Pinscher just smiled back. Snow didn't waste any time on foreplay; he took the fox's member in his maw and began a fast back-and-forth movement, dragging his rough tongue over Dallas' knot with abandon. Doby strode over and kissed Dallas' nose lightly, obviously enjoying his captive's grunts and panting.
Still smiling, he sank his middle finger up to the second knuckle in Dallas' tailhole. That sent him over the edge. He passed the point of no return, not looking back. He came strongly into the snow leopard's mouth, surprising both of them with the sheer volume of his cum. Snow struggled to keep up with the flow, finally winning out and swallowing it all.
"Fuck! You wanna drown me, faggot?" he spat out. Dallas thought about replying, but his head was whirled around as the feline slugged him, claws extended. Stars erupted in his brain, and his muzzle became warm as a river of blood poured out of the lacerations on his forehead. "You are going to pay for that big time, punk." He spat out each word, enunciating each syllable slowly.
That became the moment when part of Dallas died. His life was taken away, quite roughly and without conscience. They had each taken turns mounting him, without lubrication. They had drawn more than a little blood, and cries of pain and begging from Dallas. He was pawed off twice more, to his mixed pleasure and pain. Dragon had made claw marks deep enough to make parallel red trails in Dallas' back. After the rapes, they had had a long, hard discussion about what to do with him. They broke his tail twice more, practically ruined his face (hell they broke his muzzle in at least three places). Crusted with dried blood and semen, he was barely conscious when they took out the razor blade.
Doby walked (skulked) his way up to the mess of the fox. Taking the blade to his sheath, he began to apply pressure and slowly the skin gave way. Dallas thanked God he was fading into blackness. Soon the pain would end, the pain radiating from his very soul, screaming, wanting only to die and to end the suffering of hell on earth, that's what this had to be, nothing else...
* * *
The blackness was quiet, cold, but soothing, like when he passed out that night. Dallas tried to keep asleep, tried to keep in the comfort of his unconsciousness. His mind raced, darting from that night so long ago to the present. Of course, he didn't know what had happened since the time he was under that car. Mentally, he checked himself; no blood, cum, and no aches and pains. That was a miracle, considering what he had been put through before.
He finally opened his eyes, and it was still black as pitch. A little panicked, he felt for the sides of his prison: coarse carpet below, and metal above. Cold metal. This was a trunk, just like the trunk that trio of assholes had used. It was an old trunk too, more than enough room for one or more bodies. Well, now he was going to fight for his life, no matter what.
Dallas pounded on the trunklid, shouting at the top of his lungs. Clawed for a release hatch. Looked for an opening in the seat, but found nothing. Then, footsteps.
"Hold on, hold on, I'm almost there." The voice sounded not dark, horny and intent on violence, but rather soothing. It was probably a ploy. The sound of keys rattling in the lock and Dallas tensed up, ready to leap at his captor.
The trunk popped open, and midday sunlight streamed onto Dallas' face, blinding him. The light pierced his head like hellfire, exploding in rays of pain that filled his body and sent him into convulsions. He screamed at the top of his lungs, setting off a nearby car alarm.
"Shit, please don't do that! People'll think I kidnapped you. C'mon, let's get inside." The wolf's voice at least that's what I thought I saw before I went blind faded and Dallas lost his balance, collapsing back into the trunk. This time he embraced passing out, like a dark blessing.
* * *
Once again, the darkness. Why did it always seem like a blanket, like something left over from your childhood that you just never want to let go of? Dallas opened his eyes again. Now, even though the room was still dark, he could see something. Typical apartment bedroom: king-size bed, TV, shelves, books, and the like. Pretty average.
There was a knock on the door. Pretty sure that nothing could change his current situation, Dallas answered. "Uh, come in."
"Good, you're awake. I need you to lie down, please. Nothing too bad, I just want to examine you." Dallas did as he was told, and lay down flat on the bed.
The wolf (Dallas had been right, to an extent) pulled the covers off the frightened fox and proceeded to methodically squeeze every part of his body. Gentle hands kneaded his face and muzzle, worked his stiff neck, checked his extremities and torso for God knew what. Dallas jerked a little when the fingers gripped his genitals, quickly and casually giving them a once-over, done before he could be embarrassed. Come to think of it, he couldn't remember how his clothes had gotten off in the first place.
"Okay now, that's over. No damage, thank heaven. You're very, very lucky I was outside that bar on Friday. I don't know what your 'buddies' wanted, but at least they didn't get to have their fun."
"What do you mean?" Dallas was genuinely puzzled.
"Well, I know what Sextasy can do to you. That's a mixture of heavy meth, GHB, and black-market Viagra, with enough tranquilizers to put anyfur down. I took a class, so I knew it when I saw it. Lotsa side effects, too. I had to keep you in my trunk for awhile; changes in light and temperature can kill the affected person. When I opened the trunk, you passed out again. I thought you were okay enough, so I dragged you up here, and here you've been all this time. I can't believe you're still alive, considering you've been dead to the world for six days."
Dallas studied the wolf as he talked. What was most striking about him was his fur. He was pure-snow white from top to bottom, with the exception of his ears, hands, feet and tail. He had "gloves" of black fur on his hands and feet like Dallas, and they contrasted well with his white fur. His ears and tail darkened from ice-blue to ebony at the tips. Actually, he was finding it more than a little sexy (he supposed it was sexy, other furs would say the same). When he heard he had been out for almost a week, he started up in the bed, sending stars to his eyes again.
"Oh, my Lord! I was supposed to do reprints for the Kales! I am so behind, I really gotta go."
"You can't go, just yet. You might still have some side effects. C'mon, I already rescheduled with Mrs. Kale for next week. Other than that, you have nothing on the calendar."
Dallas sat in disbelief, staring at the wolf. Somehow, this guy had turned a very bad situation into a good one. "Well, thank you, I have to say. That's incredible."
"You're address book was in your pocket. I thought that if you had things to do, I would try and make it a little easier, considering your indisposed condition. By the way, I'm Kellar. Kellar Pamyov."
"Dallas LaRoux." Pamyov? That would explain the accent. Dallas had noticed a slight, almost unrecognizable trace of accent in Kellar's speech. It was the Russian L's that gave it away. "Nuclear wessels," he muttered to himself.
"Har, har, I heard that. Thought I couldn't?" Kellar said, twirling his right ear. "And don't joke about the surname either, I've heard it all."
"Sorry, bad reaction. I guess I should thank you. You pretty much saved my life. I was so stupid to think I could go out so soon after...anyway, thank you." Dallas knew he was blushing under his fur, and both of them could see it.
"I'll let you rest a bit more. If you want dinner, it'll be at 6:30. I'll be making for two, if you feel up to it. See ya later, maybe." Kellar turned to go and Dallas caught the light in his eyes. The right eye was blue, like a frost, Siberian blue, while the left was pure red, not bloodshot but a fire-red that didn't even come on a crayon or any car. The eye flashed as Kellar turned around, tail swishing the air behind him as he descended the stairs.
* * *
After taking a couple aspirin, Dallas came down for dinner. He hadn't had any solid food in the time he had been out, so he was understandably very hungry. He heard Kellar humming to the radio in the kitchen, sort of a mixture of classical favorites set to house mix. Catchy, he thought. As he rounded the corner of the kitchen he drew back, catching sight of Kellar bent over the stove, cooking up a storm. He felt his breath stall in his chest as he watched that intensely white tail with its blue-black tip switching slowly over his denim-covered rump.
I wonder what he'd do if I undid the tail snap punch me or kiss me I'd take my chances. Again, Dallas found himself fantasizing about his new hero. He thought carefully; ever since he could remember, he had never looked at girls the same way as he had at boys. That one time at college had gotten him really worked up, and he finally gave up on guessing his sexuality when he decided that school was more important than sex.
Now though, he was seriously considering the fact that he might not be straight after all, not even bi. He had once had a girlfriend (who had tried unsuccessfully to get into his pants), but the relationship was short, platonic and stale. Well it doesn't really make a difference as long as the love's there, he thought.
"Are you going to stand there hungry all night, or are you going to taste some of this stuff?" Kellar had his hands on his hips and was tapping his foot on the linoleum. He had a smile that said you naughty fox I knew you weren't just sneaking a peek oh no you were fantasizing. Dallas lowered his ears and blushed so hard it hurt. "Sit down, you need as much of this as you can get."
"Thanks. I can't tell you how much this means to me. No one's ever wanted to take care of me before." The two began to eat, light salads followed by a delicious veal-cheese casserole, garlic rolls, and cheesecake to top it off. Dallas ate as much as he dared, then finally collapsed into his chair, full and exhausted. He had never felt so blissfully self-indulged.
"Well, your heart should be ready to shut down right...about...now," Kellar said, looking at his watch.
"You have no idea how good that was. You're an excellent cook. Did you go to school, or did you just teach yourself?"
"Little bit of both. I took some classes, then did the rest on my own. I think you're just about healed; if you want to leave tonight you can, but the spare room's always open." Dallas' heart sank a little. He was just getting to know Kellar. But he did need to start his home life over, as it were.
"I should probably get back and reorganize my things. I hope I have money for a cab."
Kellar looked horrified. "Jesus! I'll drive you, silly! What's a little more hospitality going to hurt?" He paused, uncertain, then: "Hey, y'know, I kinda would like to get to know you better. Whaddya say, I come over to your place in a couple days? We can talk, watch a movie, whatever."
Dallas turned it over in his head a moment. "Sure, what the hell, I don't make friends easy anyway."
"Great!"
The drive home was short and uneventful. The whole time Dallas sat, nervous to be in such close proximity to what was becoming something of a crush. He could smell Kellar's scent, and the car's heater made it almost intoxicating. By the time the old Caprice pulled up to his apartment, he was sweating and couldn't concentrate.
"Thanks so much for the ride. For everything," he said, stepping out of the car. December air hit him hard, cooling the perspiration on his muzzle to a chill. He was about to close the door when Kellar stuck his head out.
"Dallas."
"Hmm?" The fox leaned into the car.
"Monday afternoon sound okay? If it's not, I can come over later." He was looking up at Dallas, that red eye seeming to glow in the incandescense of the streetlamps.
"Great, see you then," said Dallas and started to shiver. The Caprice rumbled to life. He turned to leave.
"Dallas?" He leaned in again. For a moment, he thought Kellar was going to cancel, but instead he leaned over, fast, and planted a peck smack on the end of Dallas' muzzle. His eyes widened. He stared into Kellar's mismatched eyes, trying to read him. Their breaths silently fogged away into the night. Nothing there, as far as he could tell. He stood up out of the car. Kellar shifted into drive and drove off, the great American V-8 idling heavy down the street. Dallas just stood and watched it go, utterly flabbergasted but smiling nonetheless. He had stopped shivering. In fact, his whole body had begun to feel warm all over, tingling down to his tail He smiled a little, as the red dots of Kellar's taillights faded into the cold.
"Thank you."
* * *
Dallas took a four-day weekend to reorganize things at his house. This experience with Kellar, a literal "sheep in wolf's clothing", had altered his perspective on life, had given him hope and a brighter outlook from day to day. Not even the depression medications had been able to do what he did. Now, Monday night and Kellar was due to show up any minute. The fox sat, humming and brushing his tailfur. Of all the obsessions Dallas had, straight fur was his guilty pleasure. Plus, it felt wonderful to brush himself, like a massage. He was working at a kink at the end when the doorbell rang.
Dallas' heart thumpthumped loudly in his chest. He rushed to the door and swiftly opened it. Kellar was standing at the end of the stoop, bathed in moonlight. Silvery arrows pierced his fur, giving him a radiant glow, almost angelic.
"May I come in?" Kellar asked. He cocked his head to one side God that is so cute! and lifted his eyebrow.
"Of-of course, get in here," Dallas stuttered, realizing he was probably just this side of gawking at the wolf. Kellar entered and set down two bags of groceries he had been carrying.
"I brought some food, so if you want a snack you can dig in. I've also got some DVDs too, if you want to pick one of 'em."
"Sounds great. I'll break out the drinks." Dallas brought out a case of Coke, some rum and a bottle of Jack Daniel's he had been saving for special occasions. Tonight seemed special enough, anyway.
They both agreed on a movie, and Dallas pushed the PLAY button as they both settled on the couch with drinks in hand.
About halfway through the movie (and three drinks), Dallas noticed that Kellar had moved his shoulder down so it was almost touching Dallas' neck. His left hand was dangling just above the fox's neck while the claws of his right stirred his drink. Soon the movie was all but forgotten and Dallas concentrated on Kellar, whose hand wandered down his shoulder more and more. He almost lost it, but fought to keep control of his emotions. The climax of the film came in a lengthy but furious car chase. Every time the action got loud, Kellar's hand would squeeze Dallas' arm right above the elbow.
Finally, Dallas decided to reciprocate. He wanted to find out just what it was Kellar was getting at. He slowly slid his right hand out from his lap and over to the wolf's leg. He held it just above Kellar's left thigh, then when the action became loud again, Kellar squeezed. Dallas took his chance and laid his hand on the leg.
Kellar jumped slightly, and Dallas could tell he was blushing. His leg was fire-hot beneath the fox's hand, and quivered with (anticipation) every heartbeat. Neither of them were watching the movie now, and neither cared. Dallas turned his head to ask a question, but Kellar stood up quickly.
"God, are you hungry? You didn't eat before I came over, and all you've had so far is Bacardi. How about I slice up some veggies and dip?"
"F-fine with me...fine," Dallas replied, relieved and puzzled at the same time. The tension in the room had been thick, but now seemed gone, at least for the time being. He leaned back on the couch, sighed and covered his eyes with a hand. He heard noises in the kitchen, faint but familiar. He opened his eyes and caught a flash of light in the TV screen. I know what that is, he thought, but couldn't quite place it.
He turned around, just in time to see the giant butcher knife in Kellar's hand come down and slice a carrot in half he'll do that to your cock too, staring at the blade in fascination. Something had just snapped in his mind, and memories had started to creep into his peripheral vision. He felt himself standing up, but the real Dallas had floated away. Now there was only a Dallas who wanted revenge. Soon the fur's conscious melted away into fuzzy primal emotions.
Kellar had just finished pouring ranch dressing for the vegetable dip when he heard low, heavy breathing. "Wait a minute, I'll get it to ya in-"
"Fucker," Dallas growled. "It was you. They...sent...you, didn't they? You're going to take care of me, finish the job. Am I right? Answer me, bastard."
Kellar was shocked, seeing his friend like this. He was hunched over in the doorway, pure hatred in his eyes not his eyes that's wrong and staring with pure unadulterated fury. "I don't understand. What's wrong, Dal? You look horrible. Hey, about the arm thing, I just wanted to tell-"
"Shut the fuck up, you don't want to make friends. You just want to do me in. YOU ARE NOT GOING TO GET THAT SATISFACTION, DO YOU HEAR ME?! I'LL KILL YOU BEFORE YOU STICK ONE CLAW UP MY ASS! FUCKER! FUCKING PERVERTED RAPIST! DIE, LUPINE SCUM!"
Dallas advanced, picking up assorted glassware as he went, preparing to hurl them across the kitchen. Kellar, dumbfounded and realizing that something was very wrong with his friend, backed away with his arms raised. "Dal, please, I don't want to hurt you, it's the drugs, you-"
Dallas chucked a bottle of Merlot at Kellar's head. Before the wolf could react, the butt of it hit him square above the right eye, sending stars of pain through his head and a fine trickle of blood staining his fur as it traced a red path down over his muzzle. The fox, who had now lost the ability to talk, growled ferally and started to foam slightly at the mouth.
"Dallas, don't hurt me, PLEASE! Look at me! I won't hurt you! DALLAS!!" His friend started to throw the rest of the glassware at Kellar. Most of it broke in his upraised palms, slashing them painfully. His head had already started into a dull throb. He was backed into a corner and couldn't get out. He could only whimper and plead as Dallas whaled on him insanely.
The fox ran out of ammunition and, still snarling, skulked closer to Kellar, unaware of the broken glass shredding his footpads. He looked into Kellar's left eye, the other one already swelled shut and caked red with blood. "Now you die," he snarled, then leapt for Kellar's neck.
Kellar tried his best to fend off the attack, but he knew what was coming. His defense attempts were no good. Dallas saw an opening and dove for the wolf's neck. He bit down hard, piercing the flesh and tasting blood. Kellar screamed and flailed wildly. Dallas held on tight, preparing to rip the wolf's neck open in one swift tug.
Kellar was desperate; he hadn't wanted to hurt Dallas unless he absolutely had to. He brought his hand up in a sharp chop to Dallas' neck, crushing his Adam's apple. The fox screamed (more of a gargle) and tore away from his prey, finding it suddenly very hard to breathe.
Kellar, still whimpering, tears rolling down his muzzle, saw that Dallas' eyes had lost that look of pure ferocity. The fox looked at the shattered kitchen, his even more shattered friend, and tried to speak. "Oh, no," he rasped out of his crushed throat. "No, no, my...friend. Shit." Dallas was completely back now, apparently not remembering anything. "Not...not you," he started to sob dryly, tears streaming down his face. The lupine huddled in the corner, chest smeared red.
Dallas couldn't believe he could do this to someone he cared about. All of a sudden, they were both bleeding, his neck felt like it had exploded, and he didn't know what to do. Once again, he felt totally and utterly helpless. He reached out a hand to Kellar, hoping he wouldn't lose him, of all people.
Kellar reached out to his friend as well. "No matter what, okay? No matter what." Dallas seemed satisfied with this; his arm dropped. His eyes rolled back in their sockets, and he slumped headfirst onto the glass-strewn floor. Kellar took his pulse: nice and strong. He cradled the fox in his arms, wiped his tears away with a claw, and rocked him like a baby. He couldn't leave, not now.
"Whatever somebody did to you, we'll work through it. No matter what. I've come too far, and I think...I love you, Dal," he said, beginning to cry again. The world seemed to stop then, like a black iris growing smaller and smaller until it was just the two of them, like lovers. The remains of the various glassware gleamed on the linoleum.
"No matter what, love. Hello, 911? This is Kellar Pamyov, at..."
* * *
"Sure you don't want to press charges, son?" the officer looker condescendingly down at Kellar, who looked back through one swollen eye.
"No, sir. I'm fine, thank you." No way was he going to send Dallas to jail when there were things they both needed to talk about. "I'll take him home tonight."
"But we could put him away for a while. His blood-alcohol was-"
"Stop bugging me and go away." Kellar's face was set as stone.
"Fine, have it your way, kid." Dumbfounded, the cop retreated, muttering to himself.
Kellar sighed heavily and walked to Dallas' room for what seemed to be the umpteenth time that evening. It was now 3:30 in the morning, but the emergency ward buzzed with activity. Kellar had always hated hospitals. They made him nervous and depressed. It was kind of hard not to be when your friend had just beaten you and himself into a bloody mess.
Dallas was propped up in the bed, tubes going in and out of every conceivable orifice. He looked so lost, so sad.
"Hey. How're you holding up?" He took Dallas' hand in his, gently stroking back and forth. Dried blood blended with Dallas' russet fur.
"It hurts. A lot. Why didn't you just leave me here? Why?"
"Because you're special, Dal. You're special and you have something you need to tell me. I've only known you a short time, but I know you enough to believe you wouldn't just snap like that for no good reason. I can believe you're still a little drugged up, but I don't think it's the drugs anymore. Something happened to you, and I want to know what it is. I've got to, so I can help you. I love you too much, dammit." His lips trembled, but he fought back the tears.
Dallas slowly lifted his head to look as Kellar, both faces bruised and swollen. "I...think...I...I...*sigh* ditto." A nurse came and gave a sedative to the fox, then turned and left, not without staring amusedly at the two males. Dallas drifted in and out of consciousness, but before he fell asleep he whispered into Kellar's ear: "Kiss me."
Kellar obliged. Their lips met, but only for a moment as Dallas' body went limp and he settled into blackness, the white wolf nuzzling his head.
* * *
The Caprice pulled to the curb in front of Kellar's house. Both furs slowly exited the car and proceeded up to the door. The wolf produced a key and unlocked the door, swinging it open.
"Here, let me carry you. The doc said to keep you off those feet."
"But...I'm in a wheelchair, Kel." Dallas gestured to the stainless-steel chair in which he was sitting.
Kellar laughed a little. "What does that have to do with anything? I can still carry you." Without waiting for an answer, he placed one hand behind the fox's head, one under his rump, and swiftly picked him up and over the threshold.
Dallas smiled (Jesus it's like we were just married) appreciatively, and promptly lost color as he remembered what he had to tell the wolf. He couldn't help it; it had to happen and this afternoon it would. It was probably the hardest thing he would ever do.
Kellar dumped him onto the couch and sat down across from him on the loveseat. Silence fell, ponderous and deafening.
"So. This is it, huh? I guess you had better tell me what's gone on with you. It'll never get easier, I'll tell you that."
And so Dallas began. He tried for the longest time to keep his voice strong, but gave out shortly into the story. From then on the fox wavered between sobbing and crying, every now and then breaking down completely. By the time every word was told, Kellar had moved over to sit beside Dallas and both were crying, hard.
"I'm so sorry," Kellar could only think to say. "I-I didn't know, I just had no clue. You should have told me, Dal. You should've told me."
"I know. It's just one of those things I can't handle. I need to blame myself for it, like it was something I did to piss them off. I thought it was all my fault. So many nights I cried myself to sleep, not wanting to ever wake up. You found me just in time, you know."
"I do now. And I hope it will never change. How can you fall in love so quickly with someone you hardly know?" Kellar asked, idly stroking Dallas' head.
"You're guess is as good as mine, but we both did. You're like a white angel, sent here to protect me."
Kellar chuckled. "You could hardly call me an angel. All I was doing before I met you was looking for easy money in the paper every day and trying to not get evicted. An angel, I'm not. Hell, I'm not even Christian." He looked down at the fox, with his tear-stained fur and bloodshot eyes. He looked like he had been through the gamut more than enough for one lifetime. In fact, he probably had been. He could see the pain, the self-rejection, the denial and doubt. It was something he didn't like seeing in people's souls. It was like falling into obliteration.
Dallas looked up so their eyes met. He swallowed hard.
"I need you to show me what true love is. Show me there's more to it than rape. I know this sounds silly, but I need to justify my mind, and my feelings. Please."
Kellar was deeply touched. "Okay, love," he whispered. He placed a light kiss on Dallas' muzzle. "But don't you think it would be less painful, for both of us, if we waited just a bit till we're healed more? I know I perform better if I don't have open wounds."
Dallas winced, remembering the other night, then smiled. "Agreed. Next Monday, same time?"
"Yeah, sure. See you then." The wolf leaned down and kissed Dallas deeply, burying his bandaged head in the couch. Both yipped in pain at the same time, then burst out laughing.
* * *
For both furs the week was a trying one. Kellar still hadn't found work, and Dallas reshot the Kales with better results. The days progressed slowly but the wounds healed quickly. Before Monday, both had mostly forgotten the events of the previous week.
Dallas was touching up the Kales' final prints when the phone rang. It startled him enough to make him drop his pen.
"Hello, Shutterfox Studios. Dallas LaRoux."
"Hi."
"Hey, what's up? You remembered about tonight, right? Dinner and a movie sound good? I promise I won't try to kill you again."
Kellar giggled on the other end of the line. "Hee, funny. You know I could've sued your ass. I just think you're too cute. Sure, that's fine. You pick the show and I'll make dinner."
"You-you mean you're not coming over? I'm afraid I still don't know how to get to your house."
"No prob, I'll email directions. Let's make it six o'clock this time, OK?"
"OK, see you tonight. Bye."
"Later."
Dallas hung up the phone. He suddenly realized he was breathing very hard, his heart in his throat. He felt so nervous about tonight, yet no words about that part of it had been spoken. His brain was trying to picture Kellar naked, his white fur practically glowing, and his one red eye watching, looking, waiting for him to speak the words he'd wanted to say for so long.
Coming out of his reverie, Dallas realized he was idly stroking his crotch through his jeans, which had become uncomfortably tight. He unbuttoned the front and unzipped himself, fishing his sheath out of the fly of his boxers. Pulling the skin down and wincing (it still seemed painful, at least) to expose his member down to the knot, he took a long look at himself. Ever since that horrible night, he had been more than a little ashamed of being sexually aroused. But now, thinking of his lupine angel snuffed all those feelings. For the first time, in a long time, he felt normal.
He wrapped his fingers around the shaft, and slowly started a gentle stroke, pawpads hardly brushing the sensitive red skin. It felt wonderful, just sitting there in the darkroom and pawing off, a feeling he had actually forgotten. He wasn't afraid anymore, mot of his rapists, not of the past, not of life either. His whole world was reduced to the waves of pleasure coming from his groin. He almost didn't hear the doorbell ring.
But he couldn't stop, not now. He had to have release, and soon. Laboriously, he turned on the intercom, one hand still on his cock, and answered: "Yes, *pant* who is it *pant*?"
"Dallas, honey, it's Janine Kale. You said you had finished the photos?"
Shit. He cursed under his breath. In his most professional-sounding voice, he said, "I'll be out in a minute, ma'am. Have a seat." The fox was rapidly losing control. He could practically feel his seed making its way closer to the end of his cock, forcing its way out of his body. He stroked harder.
"Dallas, are these oatmeal cookies? Can I have one?" came Mrs. Kale's voice from behind the curtain which separated what passed for a lobby from the studio and darkroom.
"S-sure, *pant* ma'am, *yiff* t-take as many as you...you want *uuunnnnggghhh!*"
"Are you alright back there? Do you need some help? I don't want to be a bother."
Dallas' stomach dropped, sending him past the final point. "No-no, ma'am, it's all un-under con- *pant* con-*pant, yiff* contrrrrrrrrroooooollllllll...!" He stifled a howl by biting his arm, hard. He was standing up now, one hand propping him up on the wall and the other furiously pounding his foxhood into climax. Less than four feet away, his customer-a mother of three-sat looking at an old copy of Cosmopolitan and eating oatmeal cookies.
At last his balls contracted and the pleasure overwhelmed him. Cum blasted out of the head of his cock, knot swelled to the size of an orange. Shot after shot hit the curtain, the wall, and finally trickled out and over his hand. He squeezed the last few drops out of himself, wiped his crotch and hand off, and painfully stuffed his still-hard prick back into his pants. Zipping himself up, he rushed out to the lobby.
"Mrs. Kale, how are you? I've got your prints right here. If I could just have you sign this acceptance form?"
"Sure, dear. There...you...go. You know, Dallas, they do look wonderful. You should spend some money and get a real business. I think it would help things a lot."
"I can only hope. Someday, maybe."
"Very well. Oh, just one thing." She leaned close to Dallas' ear. "Next time put some cologne on to cover up that musk of yours. I, frankly, don't care, but other customers might."
Dallas looked at her, taken completely offguard and embarrassed to death. He didn't even try to speak.
"Also, honey: wait a little bit and let yourself soften before you put it away. It's not healthy to rush things; certainly don't hurry on my account. Besides, it shows." She giggled, smiled and winked at the fox, whose jaw was practically on the floor. Mrs. Kale walked out of the apartment. "Looking forward to Easter pictures, Dallas!"
Dallas sat down in a chair, realizing what had just happened and decided not to even think about it for awhile. He turned his head to the darkroom, finding with subtle shock that the black curtain was sheer enough to see everything in the darkroom. He also realized that he was sitting in the same chair in which Mrs. Kale had been. He sighed, then smiled to himself. The only question he could think of was, "did I give her a good show?"
* * *
The doorbell rang. Kellar opened it swiftly, eyes widening at what he saw. Dallas was wearing khakis with a black tank top that really flattered his lithe body. The fox looked up at Kellar and smiled.
"Hi."
"Hi, gorgeous. You look great. No more bruises?"
"No more bruises. You're pretty nice yourself," Dallas said, gesturing at the wolf's black jeans and campshirt with a martini print. The dark clothes contrasted well with his fur. "We need to go shopping sometime. I want to know where you get your designs."
"It's called 'JCPenney Chic'," the wolf laughed. "Come on in, dinner's almost ready."
Dallas entered and plopped down onto the couch. He turned on the TV and began to flip through channels, but he just couldn't keep his mind off of Kellar. How could he find another male so interesting? It was so weird that girls held no interest for him at all, yet someone like Kellar could do things to his emotions to completely screw up his normally subdued attitude. The more he thought about it, the more his head hurt. He decided to leave it alone.
"Soup's on!" Kellar yelled from the kitchen. Dallas walked into the dining room and sat down. The trouble to which Kellar had gone to make the meal romantic was extraordinary. The table was lit by a brass candelabra, throwing dancing shadows onto the walls. The table was set for two, with fine china platters and crystal glassware. A maroon tablecloth completed the scenario.
Kellar walked in, carrying two plates full of food. He took off his apron and set the plates in front of Dallas and himself. Sitting down, he glanced apprehensively across the table at the fox.
"You didn't have to go to all this trouble. It's really lovely. Makes me feel special."
"Didn't I tell you before? You are special, more than you know. Please, dig in. Tell me how it is. New recipe, so this is a first-time thing."
The meal passed quietly, without much conversation. Kellar had indeed done a fabulous job of cooking. Chicken breasts marinated in sherry, with garlic and just a tiny bit of teriyaki spice. New potatoes soaked in sweet butter and served with chives. Australian Chardonnay on the side and chocolate cream pie for dessert. Dallas had two helpings of everything, while Kellar helped himself to extra dessert.
The fox leaned back in his chair, patting his stomach. "I'm so full, I swear I'll just go to sleep right here."
"Glad you liked it," replied the wolf, obviously pleased with himself. He rose to clear the table, and Dallas quickly followed suit. "Hey, stoppit. You don't have to do that. This meal was for you, now go sit and digest."
Dallas, practically waddling, made his way into the living room and fell into the inviting plush leather of the couch, desperately fighting the urge to doze off. He let his mind wander, first to the wonderful meal, then to more erotic things.
He imagined himself in a darkroom, unloading film into the developing canister. He felt soft hands grasp his neck and move slowly, steadily down his back and underneath the waistband of his pants. Down they went, to the floor as the unseen hands took the film from the canister and unrolled it. All Dallas could hear were the rustle of the film and his own heavy breathing. Suddenly his exposed member was being wrapped in film, around and around and tightened until it was slightly uncomfortable.
The tightness increased until Dallas realized he had been actually sleeping. He opened his eyes, and saw Kellar leaning over him, one hand rubbing his chest through his shirt, and teeth nibbling on his right ear. His cock pressed stubbornly against his pants. Kellar noticed Dallas looking at him and drew back quickly, sitting down opposite the fox. His eyes fell to the floor.
"I...finished the dishes early, so I came back in here. You just looked so peaceful, I wanted to see how you'd react. I'm...I'm sorry if I seem too forward."
After a long pause, Dallas spoke. "You know, I tried to convince myself that I didn't like other males. I would ignore the stares, the phone numbers, and the compliments. 'You have a great body. Want some company?' they would say, and I would refuse them like I thought that would stop it. I tried watching porn, even the lesbians, but I was more disgusted than anything. Nothing happened. I accidentally stumbled across a gay porno one night while flipping through channels. It excited me so much I-" he sighed and threw his hands up. "I came spontaneously. And, well, four other times during the course of the movie.
"I guess I'm done fighting it. If I keep trying to, it'll tear me apart. I realize that now, finally. I like you a lot, Kellar. In fact, I'm attracted to you, in case you haven't noticed already. And the kicker is, I think I may be in love with you. You do things to me that no one, not even a girl, could do. I can't concentrate, I can't stop looking at you. You make me want to live, Kellar. If that's not love, then I don't want love."
Kellar's head was down, but his shirt was stained with little teardrops. His body racked with silent sobs, he looked at Dallas, into his eyes. His white fur was wet down his muzzle, and as he spoke new tears ran down his face. "You don't know how much I wanted you to say that. The minute I picked you up off of the street that night, I knew I had fallen for you, and I knew I couldn't let you go. You mean so much to me."
The wolf moved closer and took Dallas' head in his hands. The red eye pierced into the fox's soul, melting the guards that had been put up so long ago, trying to fend off the attackers who would never again be able to torture him and take his innocence.
"I want you, more than I've ever wanted anything else. Do you?" Kellar asked.
"I do," his friend replied almost immediately. He raised a hand tentatively, then reached out and stroked the wolf's forehead below his ears. Kellar closed his eyes and just felt the touch travel down his neck, over his nose, and down his shirt until the fox's hands were close to his groin. He tensed up, but instead Dallas unbuttoned his shirt, one button at a time.
Once the shirt was unbuttoned, Dallas drew it open, and over Kellar's shoulders. His bright white fur shone in the room. Dallas unsheathed his claws and dragged gently through the lupine's chestfur, circling both nipples and ending at his belt buckle. Dallas looked up at Kellar, looking for approval. The wolf's eyes were all he needed.
"Do it," he said huskily, through the low mmmrrrr in his chest.
Dallas deftly undid the buckle and opened the fly. He parted the pants and exposed a pair of boxers. Kellar's need was evidenced by the tight bulge practically pushing out of the fly. Dallas was quickly losing control. He reached a hand inside, feeling the warmth of the wolf's groin. The sheath was full, and he could already see a knot forming. He pulled the fur back, letting Kellar's member out into the open. It wasn't long before Dallas took the whole thing into his maw, bobbing his head and sucking hungrily.
Kellar was in heaven. He had leaned back into the couch and spread his legs, never taking his eyes off the action. His friend's head moved up and down rapidly over his shaft, making it glisten with saliva. Dallas put a hand on Kellar's chest, pushing him into a laying position on the couch. Then, without taking his mouth off of the wolf Dallas crawled up so that his crotch was positioned just above Kellar's muzzle. Getting the idea, Kellar had the fox's sheath hanging in front of him in no time. He ran a claw slowly up from the scrotum to the tip.
Dallas froze. All the memories came back to him, rushing in an overpowering flood on his mind. The razor, the pain, the slow recovery from his assault-all swirling in a black cloud of hatred and sadness. He yelped, falling off the couch and into a fetal position on the floor. Trapped in the past, he whimpered softly to himself.
Kellar, horrified, kneeled down beside him, thinking he had hurt him. "Are you okay, Dal? Did I do something wrong?"
Dallas was shaking all over. He stared at Kellar with utter terror in his eyes. For a moment, it didn't even look like Dallas, but the softness gradually returned to them.
"No, not you. I'm afraid I didn't tell you the whole story before. After-after they took turns with me, one of them took a razor and-and cut me." He spread his legs, showing the wolf his sheath, crisscrossed with furless scars. "It hasn't felt the same ever since."
Kellar traced his finger along the pale lines of flesh etched into his friend's most sensitive area. "Trust me, Dallas. I can make it better. I just want to love you. Please let me do that for you. Please." Kellar's eyes pleaded with Dallas to let him touch the one area he vowed never to be touched again. It was like invading his soul. He agreed that to get the past behind him, he needed to test someone with his feelings. As long as Kellar was with him, he knew no one could ever hurt him again. He took the wolf's big, strong hand and placed it on his sheath. The pain was gone.
Kellar gripped the tube of fur lightly in his hand, feeling each scar over. They were searing hot, maybe because of Dallas' aroused state, maybe because of the months of anguish that had built up inside of him. He looked down at the smaller fox, wondering how someone could have hurt him, and if he could ever foster true trust with the vulpine.
Misty-eyed, he bent down and licked Dallas' neck, timing each stroke of his tongue with another stroke of his hand on the white sheath. Dallas panted, mouthing silent unintelligible words into the air. Kellar began to nibble on his ear.
"In the *nibble* top drawer, behind you. *nibble* Tube of gel...*nibble*"
Dallas reached behind him and pulled out the top drawer of the dresser. He felt around, being nibbled on the whole time, and finally brought out a tube of K-Y from it. He handed it to Kellar, who promptly pushed it away.
"Not this time. I think you've been used enough. You owe it to yourself to be on top, dontcha think?"
Perplexed, Dallas thought for a moment. Kellar turned so that he was on all fours, and placed his elbows on the couch to prop himself up. Looking away, he slowly raised his tail off to one side. Dallas could see he pink anus clearly next to his white fur. An evil-looking smile spread across his muzzle.
"Now this is my first time, at least on top," he said. "Be patient with me." He spread a generous amount of the stuff on his foxhood, shivering at the cold.
"I trust you. Now you have to trust me." Kellar looked back, his eyes meeting Dallas'. "Go for it."
Positioning himself right behind his friend, Dallas took his cock and placed the tip at the wolf's opening and rubbed it around to lube up the hole a little. Laying himself on top of Kellar, he gently applied pressure until the head slid in gently. Intense heat engulfed his rod, forcing him to stay still or come immediately.
"Oh God, that feels great. It's been a long time," said Kellar into the couch. He clenched his ass a few times, getting used to the foxcock embedded within him.
"You're telling me. I had no idea males were so tight. Why I ever thought I could be attracted to girls escapes me completely." Dallas started to thrust gently, in and out only a couple of inches at a time.
"You mean you weren't always gay?" Kellar pushed back into the fox's lap, lengthening his strokes.
"I guess not. Maybe I just didn't want to admit it, you know? I tried too hard to get the girls, probably to compensate." The fox thrust faster, feeling every inch of Kellar's hole with his cock.
"My step-brother came out to me, when I was 9 and he was 12. He said he liked guys, and sucking cock, and that I was pretty cute too. I started to thank him, but he pushed me into the wall first. He kept trying to finger me." A furry hand reached around to take Dallas' right hand and bring it under both furs, placing it on the lupine's shaft. Dallas started pawing his friend off, in time with each hump.
"So...did you two *pant* end up fucking?" Dallas was becoming erratic now, thrusting three times a second. Their furry sacs slapped together noisily.
"Yeah, *pant* in every way *yiff* imaginable. I guess that *huff* pretty much outed me to him." Kellar buried his muzzle in between the couch cushions, soaking them in wolf drool The fox's hand was practically flying over his cock. hitting the knot with so much force he had to concentrate on not coming.
"That is *wuff* so...so...cool, ungh...wish I could have had *pant* something like that *yiff*, oooohhhh-shitshitshit!" Kellar yelled in surprise as Dallas' knot popped home, jamming up against his prostate and sending him over the edge. The fox's fingers flew over his cock, collecting wolfseed as it shot out forcefully against the black leather couch, running down its smooth surface in bands of white. His ass clenched spasmodically around the shaft inside him.
Dallas had lost the ability to talk or control his actions. Each thrust brought more pleasure into his life, enveloping his entire being in the warmth of his lover. Not being able to thrust as deep because of the tie, he sped up to try to reach climax. Leaning down, he sank his sharp teeth into Kellar's neck, enough to cause pain but not break the skin. His dominance over the large lupine was overwhelming. His orgasm ripped through his spine and out into Kellar. He could feel thick jets of cum pour into the wolf as he stopped moving his hips and let himself ride the waves of pleasure.
As his ejaculation reduced to a drip, his knees gave out from below him and he collapsed onto Kellar's back, panting for dear life. Both exhausted males fell to the side and onto the floor, still tied together in a sweaty, cum-stained mess. Dallas closed his eyes, lost in the afterglow, and fell into a light doze.
Kellar drew a finger up to his mouth. Licking his own seed from it, he smiled and thought that sounded like a lot of demons escaping into the night hopefully none of them will come back. Laying a hand on the fox's thigh, he curled up as best he could and dreamed of better things and a better future, feeling fuller than he had ever been before.
* * *
"Andrew? Andrew. ANDREW!!" Dallas yelled and snapped his fingers at the young fox sitting in the chair. Andrew Kale, who had been trying to make his little sister laugh, looked over at him. "Good, now I have your attention. Now please-scoot up to the edge of the chair. Nice, tilt your face to the right please. Very good. And we're smiling, smiling...*click*. Wonderful, Andrew. Okay, Shirley? You're next."
While he waited for the Kale children to change places, Dallas quickly loaded up another set of shots into the camera. As he did so, Mrs. Kale came up to him. "You know, Dallas, you do such good work, you should really look into something bigger to accommodate your talent."
"Ma'am, I just bought this place. I looked really hard, but I couldn't find one that impressed me the way this place did." Dallas motioned to the large studio he had purchased a couple of months ago. Just perfect for a photographer and his "assistant".
"So how goes the 'hired help', so to speak?" asked Mrs. Kale with a smile.
"He's just fine, ma'am. We're fine. Gets the job done and I don't have an empty apartment to come home to. I lucked out; I think I'd be dead by now, if it weren't for-"
"Fate, dear. Fate. Never count on luck."
Dallas smiled. "Speaking of fate, I'd better see how he's doing in the printing room." He walked through hallways into the front office, and turned into another room. Pushing a special light-tight door, he entered the printing darkroom. As his eyes adjusted to the glow of the darklights, he could easily make out his partner's bright fur, bathed in orange.
Sneaking up behind him on tiptoe, he put his arms around the big lupine and hugged him hard. "How are you coming along? Everything turning out okay?"
"Beautifully, since it's you who's doing all the work. And what exceptional work it is, too." Kellar turned around. "You know, you really don't give yourself enough credit. Try fluttering yourself sometime, you'll like it. Just don't let it go to your head." He kissed his love's forehead gently.
"Thanks. For everything. I don't think I would have even bought this place without your help. You-you make me want to be a better person."
"Glad to be here. Now go tend to your customers."
"I'd rather rend to other things," said Dallas, while reaching down to finger Kellar's sheath opening inside his boxers. The wolf shuddered and licked his lips. "But if you insist..."
"Just don't keep me waiting."
After the shoot, Dallas and Kellar cleaned up the props and ushered the Kales to the door. "Thank you, Mrs. Kale. I-er, we-appreciate your business."
"You can count on me to spread the good word, honey. Bye, I'll be back in three weeks to proof them."
"They'll be ready, ma'am. Thanks. Goodbye!"
As the Kales pulled away from the curb, Kellar came up beside Dallas and rested his elbows on his shoulders. "Nice lady," he said.
"Nice family. What's on schedule later this month?"
"A little slow. Eight more portrait sessions, four business shots, that entire cheerleading squad to do, and...two weddings. This month. It'll be so busy come graduation. I've already booked up April, and May is just about full."
"Great. I've got more business than I know what to do with. All thanks to this place," Dallas said, lightly kissing Kellar's cheek. "And you."
"Oh, c'mon. You can't believe all of this is some kind of fate, do you? It's just pure coincidence that I happened to pick you up that night. Nothing else."
Dallas turned around to face his lover. "Since my...experience with those three jerks, I've learned to take a step back from my life and look at it from afar. I've come to realize that most things happen for a reason, whether people they think they've been planned or not. It's karma, y'know? So don't be modest, Kel. You saved me, in more ways than one. I really don't think I'd be here otherwise. At all. So just shut up and kiss me already!"
Dallas stood on his toes and kissed Kellar on the lips. They embraced for what seemed like forever, then Kellar pushed away.
"What's wrong?" asked Dallas.
"I don't know. Just after all that's happened, I think we're both so incredibly lucky. And I'll probably never know how much."
"Give it time. Just give it time." The fox smiled longingly at the big white wolf. Walking back into the studio to wrap up a long day, they slipped their arms around one another's waist, tails entwined as the door swung shut behind them.
~FIN~