Burdens - Chapter 24: Torn
#24 of Burdens
It's not really that graphic.
Chapter 24: Torn
It was wet. Everything felt wet. He, himself, felt wet. He opened his eyes to the rushing water that covered him from head to toe.
Roger's thoughts remained, in spite of his effort to regulate himself internally. He bit his lip and began to wash himself. He gave in to the thought that now that he was in privacy, he could let his mind wander without fear of judgment from anyone else.
He also figured that perhaps if he just let his mind do as it liked, he would get over the feelings he had had. Perhaps the reason why he kept focusing on the wolf was simply because he kept telling himself that he could not do so. He was not sure, but nothing made sense to him anymore.
He hoped it was a phase; just something he would have to endure for the time, and move on. He was, after all, interested in that other fox in school. He knew he was interested, if not in her then at least in females, but yet lately he had struggled to gain any grounding in his assurance. No, he knew.
Still, his thoughts were elsewhere. They settled on the wolf, of the time he had seen him without a shirt, of the time when the wolf had laid atop him, of the time when he had massaged his legs-
He felt something swell. Unconsciously he tried to fight it, but he took notice and reminded himself that he was alone in the shower. He continued to wash himself and let his body react.
His eyes were shut. He could envision the wolf's paws moving across his legs and thighs, moving a bit higher each time. He had stopped it, though, but in his mind, he imagined the wolf going further.
His thoughts shifted as those memories depleted. He had laid across the wolf, feeling his body below his, the hard muscles and soft fur, the slow and steady breathing that accompanied it. He could almost hear the wolf's heartbeat, although it was merely imagined.
He could still smell the wolf. Something seemed overpowering and yet subtle in the scent, and he could not quite pinpoint what it was, but he enjoyed it. He felt warm.
He merged his memories. Suddenly the wolf was shirtless, and he still held his face against his abdomen. It was an uncomfortable pillow, to be sure, but in his mind it was the most comfortable place to be.
He remembered the soft point on the wolf, the part that made him blush and move away. He blushed again, just thinking about it, and a lust grew within him, showing physically. He whined quietly and wished he had stayed in that position.
He imagined if the substance had been a bit firmer. He could not adequately judge the size with what he had, but he could pretend to know. It was warm, but he could not have really known. It was just innocent interpretation, but was it really that innocent?
He opened his eyes and held his head down, blushing shamefully. His ears were folded as to not let water in them and also because of how he felt. The water made his eyes not fully open, his downcast gaze only helping the semi-squint.
He saw a bit of red amidst the white of his fur. He could not help but blush even more than he had before, not because he was embarrassed of someone else figuring out his impure thoughts, but because he, himself, knew that they existed. He closed his eyes again and did not fight it.
He had moved his paws with a bit of soap throughout his fur in his efforts to clean himself, though at the moment he could not think of a way for him to ever be clean of his mental state. The water and shampoo could not absolve him of his sinful thinking. The tolerance of his thoughts could not abate his lust. His lust only made itself more apparent through physical means and demanded attention with each beat of his heart.
He put his arms against the wall, crossed, and then rested his head on them. He watched the water cascade down, as if he stood under the waterfall of his own guilt. He thought that maybe he would feel better thinking it through, but he knew it was not so. A thought in his mind told him he would feel better if he relieved himself, but he did not trust it. If one was wrong, why not the other?
He whimpered softly to himself. He was tired, and he was sore. At first he thought the soreness was merely in his limbs, but it had suffused. He physically hurt in many places, his loins notwithstanding. His chest hurt, but it was not physical. He suffered and he did not know the reason, or if he did, he did not want to accept it.
He shook his head. "No, it's not... it's not that," he thought. He bit his lip and looked at his watch. He had been in the shower for quite a few minutes now. The wolf might begin to wonder what had happened.
He wondered if that would be so odd, since he was in the shower for so long. Of course it would seem like something was wrong. He could not remember if he locked the door.
What if the wolf were to come in? What if the wolf saw him? What if the wolf saw the very thing he desperately tried to keep secret?
But no, Hunter was not psychic. Even if he saw, he would not know the reason. Still, would the fox be able to keep quiet? Would he continue to run?
It was a useless fantasy that played through his mind. It would not happen, and he attributed it to his current lustful state of mind. He knew he did not want something like that to occur. Perhaps that vixen....
He sighed.
After a moment, though, he nearly leapt as there was a knock on the door. It was as predicted. The wolf wondered if everything was alright. He answered back, though, saying it was fine. The scenario would not play out.
His feelings did not subside, though. He told the wolf it would be a few minutes.
The fox looked back toward the ground, noticed the pooling water around his feet. It still had some soap in it, but most of it was washed off him by now. He made sure to get the rest of it off.
He let his mind wander while he did so, while he still had the privacy. The bit of red amidst the white had grown. He sighed again, the futility of his actions sinking in. He knew he would have to take care of it before heading out, lest the wolf find out.
He relieved himself.