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Chapter 43: Warmth

The wolf had gone that night. Roger had been left alone in his room, as he usually was.

It was still not time to head to sleep, but he still began to drift off anyhow. He set an alarm for when he knew his parents, or at least one of them, would return. He would ask his question then.

It would not be too late, he figured. He would ask his question and head back to sleep, that way his amount of rest was fairly uninterrupted. It was the middle of the week and he had no excuse to fall asleep in class, though he was sure that if he did, the teachers would not care, and he would not miss any of the material.

He did not want to be too tired, though, for the first class. He had to keep up his appearances to the wolf, after all, and not detract from the image he apparently had obtained from the teacher. He was the star pupil, though he did not really wish to be. He did not mind, though.

Reality and sleep began to blend for him. The wolf was there again, holding a ball in his paws. He seemed excited, and the fox attempted to move, to join him in what would be the game they would play, but his body was sore and would not move. He groaned and could not speak, merely lie there in his bed.

Hunter dropped his ball and went to the fox, inquiring as to what was wrong. His voice was clear and his features were vibrant. The light bulb shone on him what was the radiance of an angel, yet it faded when he moved.

The fox managed to say that he was just tired, but his voice seemed foreign. He did not even feel himself say it, no rumble in his chest, no vibration in his throat. It was as if he opened his mouth and the words fell out.

The wolf made a motion, placing his paws upon the fox's legs. Immediately upon touch, the area warmed up and felt soothed, as if the wolf's paws were but magic and healed his wounds. They began to rub the fox's legs and Roger felt as if he were in pure bliss.

They moved up and down, covering the entirety of legs, and then moved to his abdomen. He knew he was blushing but could not feel it. He felt the paws move across his body and felt the same warming, mollifying sensation that completely subdued him. He knew he could not control the reaction that was sure to occur, but he did not seem to have the inhibition this time.

He could feel it swell, but to his relief and anguish the wolf moved his paws upwards, rubbing the fox's chest and arms. Everywhere he touched, everything he touched, seemed to glow with warmth and pleasure. It revitalized the fox, but he still did not move.

Hunter leaned forward as he began to rub the fox's arms. His face was now close to the fox's, and his scent filled the fox's nostrils. Everything about him was enticing, seductive to a point.

The fox's lust swelled and yet he still did not move. He remained stationary as long as he could, enjoy every feeling that surged through his body, the warmth that the wolf provided. The wolf leaned forward a little more and their noses touched.

He felt the wolf's paws travel across his torso, moving down, and slowly tucked under his shirt. His bare fur was subject to the wolf's paws and it seemed as if the pleasing sensations were amplified. He began to breathe heavily and gave a soft murr, but he felt not the sound that escaped his lips. He did not care.

He felt a paw reach down and under his pants, and he whined. It was slow moving and was at his leg, and his desires almost drove him mad. He swelled and throbbed, he yearned and it was misery to be so close and yet so far. He felt the paw slowly moving toward the place designated, and he closed his eyes.

It reached his inner thigh, and then he felt a buzz. A vibration. He heard a noise, and he snapped out of the dream. There was naught on him but his own paws, his own blankets, his alarm sounding from the phone he had placed aside him. He cursed and blushed, ashamed that he had felt such a way about the wolf, but he knew it was unavoidable. He could still smell him, however. He turned off the alarm. It was time.

All that was left was his paw in his pants, ever so close to the destination he had desire the wolf to arrive at. The effect was there. It strained, it stretched, it demanded. It was a job unfinished, but the fox knew he could not give it attention. He had to go ask his parents for their permission for the wolf to stay a night or two.

He got out of bed. He did not feel as sore as he did prior, and he attributed it to the apparent massage he had given himself. He sighed and stretched.

It subsided. The magic was gone, the lust disappeared, the monster was pacified. He walked out of his room and into the house, down the stairs, and looked to see if anyone was around. Sure enough, there was one set of shoes by the door.

He looked around and managed to find his father, sitting at a desk, shuffling around with some paperwork. He tapped on the door and walked in, the tapping only to get his attention.

"Hey, you're awake. What's wrong?" his father asked him. He looked a bit surprised to see him awake at this hour, as it was fairly rare. "Don't you have class tomorrow?"

Roger nodded. "Yeah, I just wanted to ask you and mom something, but she's not here right now."

The older fox nodded and resumed his paper shuffling. It seemed he was organizing his work materials, but Roger did not really know.

He said, "Well, as you've probably heard, I have to tutor some guy at school, even on weekends, and last weekend I stayed at his place. This weekend, I was just wondering if he could spend the night over here?"

There was only shuffling for a moment, and then his father replied, "Yeah, I don't see why not. I'll talk to your mother about it. Anyway, go get some sleep, you need to go to class tomorrow."

Roger nodded. "Alright. Good night, dad."

There was a reply as he turned and left for his room.

He climbed back into bed and pulled the covers back over himself.

He yawned and closed his eyes, hoping that his dream would return.