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Chapter 31: Shine

There was a stillness in the air. For what seemed like forever, nothing was said between them. They looked at each other, not wanting to break the gaze for it would only incite doubt and guilt. It would show the other the shame they felt, in the accusation, in the presumption, in the proof that the wolf was guilty of his own malfeasance.

"I, uh... I mean, I didn't know that it was..." the wolf began to sputter after a while. His gaze shifted and suddenly he looked downcast, on the verge of fleeing as is the child that knew his actions were wrong, but did them and was caught. He wrung his paws idly, tripping over his words, unable to say anything definitive. It was a string of ambivalence and ambiguity.

Roger attempted to calm him down, and finally managed to get him to hear, "It's okay, just a yes or no. You're not in trouble or anything."

Hunter stopped, nodded, and took a deep breath. He let it out and then said, "Yes. It won't happen again."

The fox shook his head. "That's not why I asked, not going to reprimand you for something that.... Well, anyway, what I'm saying is it's okay. I just woke up today and thought it was a dream, and it was freaking me out; I couldn't figure out whether or not it happened."

The wolf cocked his head and looked directly at the fox. Taken aback, Roger shifted away slightly and gave a nervous laugh. "Is something wrong?" he asked the wolf.

"It's okay?" the wolf asked, almost incredulously. He seemed to wait for the answer eagerly, yet it was a mute alacrity that he hid in his static position.

Thinking over the implications of the wolf's actions, the fox finally nodded slowly, saying, "Yeah, it's fine. I really don't mind. Starting to get used to all the contact stuff, I guess."

Suddenly, the wolf waved his tail furiously from side to side, and he leapt at the fox, grasping him as if it were a tackle, but instead hugged him tightly, so much that the fox could hardly breathe. Roger struggled against the embrace, the dull ache in his body metamorphosed into a sharp pain, especially around his ribs. Under normal circumstances he would not have minded so much, even welcomed it, but at the moment, it was far too painful for him to be amenable.

He pushed squirmed, attempting to get away between strained breaths, attempting to request his emancipation.

Hunter let go. He apologized again and explained, "It's just, I thought I was in trouble. My little brother and I used to sleep in the same bed, and it was alright, but he stopped and I guess I just sort of missed it. I should've asked you first. I don't know, I wasn't thinking."

Roger coughed, his lungs finally able to receive air. He respired a few times, and then looked at the wolf. "Like I said, it's alright," the fox said, nearly wheezing. "Just don't kill me over it."

The wolf folded his ears and looked concerned. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he quickly said. "I'm sorry, I just... is there something I can do to fix it?"

The fox coughed. "What, my breathing? I think I'll be fine." Hunter nodded, and he continued, "Though I do think you need to go grab a shower."

It had completely slipped the wolf's mind, apparently, judging by his reaction. He quickly nodded, apologized again, and immediately stripped in front of the fox, no longer in fear of being judged by his friend. Roger blushed furiously and stared at his feet, figuring at least then he could say he was not completely looking away, but not looking directly at him.

Hunter did not turn toward him, though. He grabbed a towel, wrapped it around his waist, and headed to the shower.

Roger laid back against the bed, trying to keep his mind off what he had seen. In reality, he had not seen much this time around, but he had seen enough previously for his mind to fill in the gaps. He still smelled the wolf, part of the wolf's scent now on his own clothes. It was not necessarily a pleasant scent to be sure, just one of musky canine, but for some reason he liked it.

Still, his body ached, and the bear hug had not really helped; rather it seemed to only exacerbate the state of physical anguish. He did not want to move, hoping that if he refrained from motion, the pain would eventually subside enough that he could recover peacefully. However, with the wolf's presence, he was sure that was just a dream.

He remembered how the wolf had massaged his legs back in the park. It had felt very enjoyable to the fox, among other things. He wondered if he could get the wolf to do so again, though he figured that it was just another bad idea popping into his head. He knew the side effect of any contact from the wolf and he was worried that it would make itself palpable, in every meaning of the word.

He laughed softly at himself at the ideas that passed through his head, but quickly stopped as it hurt to laugh. He sighed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for the wolf to return.

-

It was only perhaps five or six minutes that he waited. The wolf had come back, just as damp as he recalled the night prior, with just a towel on. He at least smelled like soap now. Roger sat up, groaning in pain.

Hunter grabbed some clothes from his drawer, setting them on the bed next to the fox. He apologized with a soft breath, about his presence and the inconvenience of placing the clothes near him.

He removed the towel and began to put on his clothes. Roger was met with a full view of his genitals, and quickly turned away, lest he be caught with a lingering gaze. His face was flush and burning, and he felt his desires beginning to pester him, slowly accreting into a problem.

He gathered the strength to look back at the wolf after he had determined that at least the undergarments were on. They were fairly loose fitting boxers and showed nothing, of which the fox was equally thankful for, as well as regretful.

Hunter stood there fumbling with his clothes. He seemed a little tired from what he had done earlier, but it was natural for him to be. He still looked very handsome to the fox, even in his minor mistakes and incongruous behavior. In all actuality, it was that, especially, that made him all the more special to the fox.

The idea slipped into his head, and he blushed as he thought it. He looked away now, not sure of what it indicated, or rather unsure of whether or not he accepted it. He thought that it was just a passing phase, and perhaps it was; there was still time. He would just wait and see, all the while still holding onto the fact that he still liked the vixen at school, that she was the one he wanted to be with, yet there was a nagging feeling somewhere in his mind. He felt that feeling might be elsewhere, as well.

Roger looked back at Hunter, who had finished dressing. He stood there, and a bit of light pierced the blinds. It scattered around, but some fell upon the wolf.

The way he stood there, in that light, it almost seemed to the fox that there was something out of the ordinary with him, almost extraordinary. The sight was almost breathtaking.

Yet, he took a breath.