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"Back before I split things off with Tristan, did you ever stop to think about what we were doing?" I'm sure my surprise story-filled question isn't exactly what he wants to talk about, but he's always patient with me.

Scarlet thinks for a while, telling me he won't blow it off. "I did. A lot, actually. I thought about what it meant that even though I could tell you didn't love him, that you also didn't love me. You were somewhere in between."

Of course, this question had only popped up because of my simple curiosity. Sometimes I think a lot about how I got where I am and what it means. What things I gave up to get so far. He's holding me very close to him, like he's scared I'll leave. Neither of us are paying much attention to whatever we put on TV after eating. He just has us on our sides, his muzzle somewhere over my right ear where he won't stop blowing and licking and nibbling it.

"Did that hurt you? To know I didn't really love you yet?" I remember, what seems like so long ago, when he admitted to me that he'd been admiring me from a distance for an ever greater time than I could've imagined.

He's quiet. I don't ever put much intent behind it for fear of assuming I'd hurt him, because a while ago he told me that being quiet shouldn't have any sort of meaning beyond a current lack of words. Eventually he admits, "Yes." After a longer time, "What hurt was when you'd come to me on a very personal level, but still not think to leave Tristan."

I thought about it a lot. What Scar means, and what I should say as well, is that even when I thought about it, it was almost like a joke to myself. Thinking about leaving that guy was much more a running joke to me than viable emotional strategy. Whenever I came to Scar about it, it would always be under the guise that I just needed someone to talk to. "You always needed more than just a talk though, wolf. I think you knew that as much as I did."

Most of my relationship leading up to this with Scar has been an incomparable level of sexual tension paired with hints and begging for excuses to be unfaithful, even as I knew that Tristan wasn't faithful either. "So what sparked that night?" Ironically, we had finally 'cheated' one night, almost a year before we really became anything that next Christmas night.

He's reflective for a while. "Romeo and Juliet made the mistake of not communicating, and hurting everyone around them. Rather than let you ever think I didn't care, I went a little far." He bites at my ear a little more absently, neither of us actually paying much attention to it. "I guess I also wanted to hurt anyone who'd hurt you. Did he ever find out?"

I shrug despite being on my side with his arms around me. "Not sure. Maybe he assumed I did something with somebody. After that, he couldn't convince me I'm someone no one would want anymore. That's probably what made him more mad than anything else."

"Is that when--"

"Yeah." I almost cringe to think about it, but after knowing I was gone, lost forever to him, Tristan got physically hurtful in addition to the emotional and psychological bits. The night he found out about what I'd done with the sergal, he came about as close to raping me as I ever thought a loved one could come.

"You remember that night?" I do. I couldn't ever forget, even in a world where we aren't together, I know I'd be forever impacted by that night. I remember it because I've never had someone so beautiful of heart or mind hold me and make me feel the same way.

I remember telling myself that nothing would ever be the same, that I'd forever think about and wonder why that was such a novel experience. I'd remember that night every night I shared with someone else during that transition period after Tristan but before Scarlet. "I do. I remember feeling regret but knowing I wouldn't have changed anything anyways." I open my muzzle to say more, but don't.

He simply nods.

-+-+-+-

"Well, I know you're in there because I hear crying. I'm using the spare key..."

It's not many times I'll be so confused in my life; I can tell. At that instant I wanted nothing more than to see him, and I also wanted nothing more than to wait on that idea, until I could put together a story or a reason for feeling the way I do. The sounds of key and lock arguing are brief before the door comes open, revealing Scar.

He comes to my side, but not quickly as though I'm hurt. He already knows I am and he already knows why. He simply sits across from me on the couch, quiet and contemplative. I think he wanted in just make sure I wasn't dying, and then anything else would be secondary. I'm not crying badly, but now I'm more ashamed since he's here. I wipe my eyes and focus on my breathing, hugging my knees and tail close.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be."

"But--"

He merely looks me in the eye, disarming me. He doesn't want me to say I'm sorry again. There's not many times in my life that I've been so quickly overwhelmed by someone's eyes so much as I find myself by Scar's anytime he's compelling me. "Don't be. I walked in on this."

I sigh softly, unusually relieved. "You don't even know what 'this' is." I look away. "I'm not sure I want to admit what 'this' is." And it is admitting. I know I'm not where I should be. I know that what he says is hurtful and designed to keep me close. Maybe it's that piece, though. I know he wants to keep me close. He's just not executing the best way possible.

"Do you love him?" God. Damn. If Scar asks a question, it's almost never clarification. It's thought. It pushes me to wonder just what in the hell I'm sitting here doing, making both of us cringe in all of this emotion I can't seem to overcome. I look to his eyes helplessly, and find two things. First, it seems like he is just itching to help me.

Second, and it's enough to make my heart stop a moment, he feels the same thing I do. Dishonesty. Sure, I might not be treated the best by Tristan, but I can't cheat either. Right? Two wrongs don't make a right, as my mom would recite. Nevertheless, I can't escape this feeling of dread, this feeling that I'm never going to be able to pick myself up and leave him, whether I consider all the alternatives to actually be honest or not.

The question remains hanging in the air for more time than someone who'd jump off a skyscraper just as he finished it. I don't shift from being balled up, as close to myself as possible. As far away from places he's touched as possible. I drown out his scent, coming from my lower body, by huffing in my own in my arms and hands, where my muzzle rests. I can't remember a time my ears were so flat folded and for so long a time.

Even after the waterworks had stopped, the emotions hadn't. He can see just as well as I can feel, in that this situation has neither an easy answer nor a happy one. Someone is going to walk away feeling the worse for it, and I know that someone is me. He's walked away plenty of times, sometimes nightly. I don't catch the scent of other so much as I catch the look in his eye, a look that challenges me to call him out, tell him I know what he's doing. We both know that I know, but I'm never going to say anything about it. I can't. He'd leave me, and then the contact I have with him, while brief and rarely enjoyable, will be gone. I'll be alone again, just as he said he'd found me. Alone and with no one who'll put up with my problems.

My eyes shift to the sergal. Just as much as experiencing this ordeal has been hell, watching me go through it all has to be pretty bad too. We met somewhere around two years ago, but only started talking a lot closer to the year marker. He struck my interest with psychology and therapy talks, and I struck his with my ever-present curiosity to learn what I can from whoever wants to tell.

And now, as his eyes probe mine from across a distance that could be ten miles if it was ten feet, I feel I've betrayed him. More than what I feel about self-preservation, I feel like by forcing him into situations like this that I'm about the worse friend someone could have. I'm almost as bad as the people I'd make fun of for having so few friends because of their terrible luck. Someone like me isn't someone to sit around and enjoy.

I sigh again, and he opens his muzzle. He closes it again, looking confused with himself. "Wolf, I don't know how to say what I was going to say. Instead, tell me what you want. What isn't he...what can't he do for you?"

Again, I'm silent. I can't understand what this sergal has got against just giving me canned advice. The tears filling my eyes even as we continue to watch each other tell him the whole story. I'm broken. I...I don't feel loved. I reach up to my eyes to wipe away a tear, not attributing much to the movement I hear across the way until I look up. Into his eyes. "Does this make you uncomfortable?" In spite of the distance or lack there of, I don't find myself feeling any more nervous about his presence. There is some sort of feeling in my chest, stirring my heart rate up, despite the continuing flow of my tears slowly down my cheeks.

"No. S'fine." He nods. Honestly, he isn't much closer to me overall; there's still a few inches between our thighs. He is seated directly facing me though, so that gap is more between my leg and his knee. "What are you doing?"

He grins bashfully. I know that look, too. I've seen it whenever I say something he really likes or whenever he doesn't want to admit what's on his mind. "I think I know what you're missing, but I don't know if I'm the one who should provide it." His smile fades, remaining only in appearance and less so in heart. "I already do, I guess, but it's not excessive yet."

I'm quiet for a while, almost saddened to hear the sergal sound so unsure of himself. "What do you mean, Scar?" I think I know, but I want to hear it. I don't want to be that guy who jumps to conclusions and does something stupid for it.

He leans closer to me, slowly, edging up like he might startle me. I adjust to sitting on my knees instead of how I was, balled and bunched up. His right ear flicks cautiously, though I'm unsure why. Before I realize it, or maybe far after I knew what his intent was (but never decided to stop him, he simply closes the distance, kissing me once.

With the tension in the air and the quietness of the surroundings, that one kiss seemed to resound deeply within my mind, concluding a long haul of emotions that were only just beginning their journey. He pulls back a very small amount, looking full of regret already. Even so, I can't think of the last time He had taken such care into doing anything with me. Tears are already welling again, but this time I want to say that they're happy. Or maybe just less sad.

I look into his eyes for a long time, and he mine. Neither of us speak for a while. There's nothing to say about that. Between the lead-up and his execution, it's obvious that both of us had been thinking the same thing.

-+-+-+-

"You ever think about that night? You ever wonder what would've happened if I'd not been so foolish, or you so kissable?" His rumbly voice from over my right ear seems hesitant, as though he wonders about that night frequently. I hardly ever attribute much mental power to it, since it was a past and very done deal. He knew I didn't feel loved, and he wanted to show me that he was there for me.

I rub over the paws he has around my waist, breathing slowly and evenly. "I sometimes wonder how much trouble you could've gotten me into that night." I can hear his smile come back. "I don't regret you doing what you did. I don't think any later would've been as good, and any earlier would've sent me panicking I'm sure."

"You think so? You're pretty hardy. I think you could handle being kissed." Oh. It was a grin I heard. My mistake.

"It's easy to handle things when you throw them at me. I mean, do you think we would've slept with each other again as seriously as that first time had you not been so elaborate that next Christmas? That was a little ridiculous."

He laughs some more. "You're a sucker for romantic moments. I could've done whatever I liked."

I squirm until I'm resting face to face with him, nipping his nose in annoyance. "No! Don't make me sound like I'm just submissive!" We've had this argument before, too. Honestly, remembering that night, he probably wouldn't have pinned me as such a bottom if I hadn't let him do what he was doing.

He kisses my nose in counter, trying to play off as the bigger man or whatever. The smiles in his eyes are still just as antagonistic, though. "Aw, don't be that way, love. I'm just saying that had you not been compliant anyways, the tension all that night would've made me pop. I love you so much, and that goes back to that night as well."

Scar knows he's won anytime he can get me to start blushing, or, at least, anytime I'm pink and he's not. My ears pin, making me feel like a helpless cub under his dark eyes. "You play so dirty," I grumble, only upset in that I can't ever seem to compete with his dedication.

He did have a huge crush on me for forever, after all. "You usually do that, love. I just stick to the best arguments." He's still grinning huge, and he kisses my nose again. There's plenty more he could say to get me to blush more, but for now it seems he'll hold back. I stuff my muzzle into the crook of his neck, taking in his scent and trying to hide whatever shame I feel like is worth hiding. Not useful for much more than time-wasting these days, I think to myself with a roll of the eyes.

It takes a lot of time, but I eventually come up with something to ask about him. "So why that night? You liked me more than just a close friend for so long before that... What kept you from doing something earlier?"

He shifts uncomfortably at first, seeming afraid to answer me. He hugs me close again, his muzzle resting between my ears. He sighs softly. "I'm never sure what finally drove me to it, Jack. There was a lot of stuff going through my mind that night, and the next night I saw you...when I took things too far."

I cut in softly, just so he can continue with a little less guilt. "To be fair, I'd asked about being able to see other people before you did that with me." And I had. It wasn't without a lot of shame and collar-pulling and a little bit of creative muzzle use, but he had agreed when I'd asked. At that point, I knew he was already seeing other people, too. I hate thinking about this stuff!

He continues, unaware of my inner struggle. "Regardless, I was thinking about how much I really did love you, and how, if I never showed you, you'd never know. Apparently all those failed dates you sent me on never told you anything, so I wanted to tell you directly." I blush when he talks about how clueless I was. To be fair, I was a little preoccupied with the fact that I had emotional abuse to come home to. I find it ironic that he remembers me setting him up with basically anyone who might've even barely liked guys.

He continues, "Well, I walked up to that door with the intent that I could walk in, tell you I wanted you for myself and not in the arms of some musclehead, and then walk out either with you paw in paw with me, or..." He trails off, clearly not wanting to even think about the alternative.

"Or...with a heavy heart and the determination to win me anyway?"

He shakes his head. "This isn't Hollywood, wolf. I think the end would've been much grimmer. You were, at that point, my reason to going to college every day." The idea of the sergal, who I know to be basically a genius and intelligent and curious, dropping college and demoting himself to some lowly position where he'd never see me again was morose, to say the least. He takes a deep breath, going on, "Anyways, I heard you crying inside. As much as it was breaking my heart, I waited outside until I was sure you were alone. I didn't feel the courage to fight that guy until I came in. When I saw you..."

He pauses for a while, and I can tell he's choked up just in remembering that night in such vivid detail. With a shaky voice, he finishes his story. "When I saw you there, balled up and just so sad looking, I could've done anything for you. Had Tristan walked in then, I would've fought him. I can't fathom the idea of anyone hurting you, especially after that." It's interesting to think of the sergal as such a fierce protector. It isn't that I'd never thought of him that way, but more that he doesn't give off any presence as intimidating as when he's around me. I had thought, basically until tonight, that that was just normal with him.

Now I realize that he has very real sensitivity to the subject of me and where I am and how I feel. He sighs, the memories faded and long gone. "Anyways, that's all really sad. Can we reflect on the week after that?" I can hear the grin start to come back. Or maybe that's just mine.

In any other circumstance, I'd feel ashamed about the week after that. Since I've ultimately stayed with the sergal after that week, I don't feel half as bad.

-+-+-+-

My paw feels numb enough for me to have to check that I actually am holding the phone. I answer, shakily, "Y-you...you want to do what?" My voice is so small I actually wonder if he could've heard it. He had to know this would happen. Maybe that's the point?

He chuckles, the sound of his voice both warming me and sending shivers down my spine. "You heard me. I want to test that idea of an open relationship." That's not how he said it the first time. He sounded so...provocative. So much innuendo. I think there was even a purr in there, sending the fur up my neck on end.

I take a while to reply, but I'm sure he knows I'm still here. I'm always wrapped up in how much presence he has, but before now I had just admired him from afar. I'd never, and I mean honestly never, thought of him for relationship purposes. A major piece of that was the fear of God put into me by Him.

I take a deep breath, sounding closer to a drawn-in whine more than anything else. "Where? When? A-and...what did you...what were you thinking about d-doing?" I'd only just earned my 'freedom' from Him, and it wasn't a pleasant process. There was a lot more than a petition involved in that, and I swear it feels like I can still feel his paw on my collar, my muzzle full of--

"Well," he purrs, "why don't you come over here? It'll be easier to decide what happens next." I knew he purred earlier. It's not very fair. Being such an exotic species earns him a lot of freebies.

-+-+-+-

"You honestly thought that?" He chuckles, his rich laughter resounding in my ears and pulling me out of my recollection. Last time I was so spaced thinking that he'd asked me to tell him what I thought about that day out loud. "First of all, I can't believe you remember that phone call, or how sexual you thought I was being."

Again, my ears pin. "You know you were trying to instigate with that. You always get this low, sultry purring thing going. It's completely unfair." If he wanted to, he could turn me into a hypnotized zombie with that voice. I'm not sure why he hasn't tried, but honestly it's probably because I don't resist him anyways.

"Remind me to get more out of you using it then," he remarks in exactly that purring way. It still sends shivers up and down my spine and tail, probably floofing the appendage behind me, not that he can see it anyway.

-+-+-+-

I'm here. Which is because of him. Two conflicting sides of me guide my next actions. I may have made it to this doorstep, but another part of me is telling me that I know I'm up to no good. This is cheating, and you know it. You know why Tristan had such a hard time letting you go.

I sigh softly, the internal debate over ringing the doorbell or texting him that I'm here lasting an eternity. I stamp my paws in frustration. It has never been hard for me to talk to him, or interact with him, or joke with him, or share my feelings with him. Sometimes I wish it was harder to share those feelings. It feels more as though he can see deep into me, finding those weaknesses even if I don't think anyone can. I know I'm a vulnerable person, because I always have been. I've just never had the chance to slip out of that guise. Maybe I ought to make that chance instead of wait for it.

The door opens just as my paw hovers over it, making me yelp and leap backward. Scar's chuckling right away, and I'm blushing right away. "If you were going to take any longer on my doorstep, I was going to think you were here to rob me instead of see me." I look over my shoulder at my parked car. That would explain it...

I just sigh and look to his eyes to make a remark, but I'm halted very suddenly by the oddest feeling I've ever known. More than when I want to talk back to Tristan, and even more than that terse feeling right before I cheated on that test once (yeah, once. Shut up), I get this tightening in my chest that only reminds me of the tension hanging in the air the whole rest of the time he was with me a week ago. He was eventually ashamed enough to back off from me, but it wasn't without another kiss first. Say anything you like about him, but he does understand what he wants.

...It just makes me a little embarrassed that it's always so obviously been me. I never took any note of it before I was in a relationship with Tristan, but now it's painfully clear. He doesn't downplay being jealous very well.

Regardless, he ushers me inside after I spend a few moments being uncharacteristically quiet, shifting down his attitude significantly when he notices. "Listen, Jack. About what happened...I...I'm really sorry. I understand if you're nervous and shy around me, because I violated the whole trust thing between us. I honestly wasn't sure you'd come over today."

Words are failing me, and failing me hard. Since he'd decided to make his speech on our way inside, I simply whirl and smack into him. Before he can so much as yelp, I hug myself to him and kiss his lips. The curiosity sated in me, I move on to hug him tightly for a while, to absolutely no complaint from him. Inspire, I find my voice again. "I...don't know what this makes us. I want to say it's nothing different," he stiffens, obviously a little bothered by that, "but that's my shyness speaking. You have to be patient with me."

He nods, his muzzle simply nudging into my ears a couple of times. He holds me a while, his paws resting on my hips after a while of clearly being confused on what was taboo and what wasn't. My tail is swaying happily but slowly, uncharacteristic of how still I'm used to holding it. My chest feels warm, and that tension melts into something pleasant as I realize that I can have something nice with Scar without everything becoming sex, much as is seems to gravitate towards with Him.

He rests his muzzle atop my head lightly as he says, "So, I'm curious. I can tell from this that you're not overly ashamed of being with me, but I still have no idea what's going on." He hesitates on his next sentence, deciding not to continue beyond that. I'm not any more put together.

In fact, it's an almost awkward while of holding one another until I say something. I would've started murring or something if I hadn't waited so long to do so. "I know you want this to happen. Wanted, and for a while too."

He sighs. "You aren't doing this for me, are you? I'm sorry I skipped out on the last one you set me up with--"

I look up into his eyes, and it's enough to stop him. "You've wanted this for a while. Somewhere inside... I have too. It was easier to tell myself that something with Tristan would be temporary and I'd be able to live with or without it." I pause, tearing up a little. "But with you, I've always been afraid that the emotions are so real I'll be swallowed up."

He smiles softly, leaning down to kiss my nose. "They are real. That's what makes them so beautiful. I'm sorry I've always hung on you like some overly obsessed loser. I'm sorry you always tried so hard to make me happy, setting me up so many times."

I shake my head, grinning. "Not all of those ended badly, did they?"

He smiles back. "With my charm and handsomeness? They're lucky their pants managed to last so long." We laugh for a while, eventually leading to him letting me go with a noticeable amount of hesitation. Eventually, his expression hardens a little, and he comes back to, "I still... I hate to ask, but I still wonder what this means? You...you're still with him, I know, but..."

The pain in his eyes says everything about his thoughts. About what he wants to say. About what he wants me to say. "That's not what I'm here about, okay? Maybe that can come later, but I don't want to let thoughts of him ruin this."

He nods, but I know it's not what he wants to hear. I don't anything to say but the truth, and I feel bad that that doesn't line up for him the same way. Before I can feel too bad about things, though, he leans down to kiss me again. Unlike before though, it doesn't even hardly end there.

In a move almost too smooth for me to think it's the same guy, Scar sweeps me into his arms again, holding me close to his embrace, his paws roaming more than last time, feeling over my sides slowly, just as his muzzle is moving. Every touch is electric, and it's part of what I'm scared about. I told myself, coming in here, that I could make both of us happy with some sort of one-night thing. Some sort of quick tryst to hold us both over until I can come to terms with my thoughts about Him.

What's happening now is inescapable. Suffocating. Just before he mutes me with his tongue, I squeak pretty audibly, and blush even more to coincide. He doesn't mind, and even chuckles before he deepens the kiss, but I still can't find myself lost in only his presence yet.

Eventually his paws find themselves exploring lower and lower, and lingering on the first things they find under my tail. I have to pull away, shivering and shuddering all the time. When our eyes open, his do with a degree of obvious concern. I ask, in less than a whisper, "If we do this...will you expect it again?"

His lips move from mine, and instead, he does something much more powerful. His forehead moves to touch mine, bringing our eyes closer than I could have ever imagined. In them, I see the sincerest of desires, and the most honest of intent to capitalize on them. I see a deep sort of love, the kind I can't believe hasn't lead to this sooner. And more than anything else, I see thankfulness. He knows I didn't have to come, and he knows that I still have no idea what more will come of this.

And in spite of it all, I still find my thoughts wandering back to what is waiting for me at home. I'm sure my eyes reflect that fear, because he tells me, "Expect? No. But you'll always be welcome in any form, wolf. For just one night, can we forget where we are? Let everything wait for a moment, and just focus on us."

With his point made, he moves in again to kiss me, and this time I'm enthusiastic in return. He rumbles against me, holding me close again, but this time his paws wandering again. I can't decide when he became so versatile at making me feel so wonderful, but it's as though he's written down everywhere he's ever touched me and had me shiver under the contact.

At the risk of sounding like I was expecting things to go similarly to this, I'll just say that my outfit is relaxed on me enough to allow his curious paws wherever they please, and, seeing that, his planned attack on my muzzle just happens to synchronize with a dive to play with the base of my tail. Without even having to wonder for my reaction, he simply reacts when I gasp, closing in closer and immediately sweeping his tongue over mine, assuredly stopping my heart for a little while at least.

His rumbles of approval, probably of his own plan working, resonate through me, almost in more power than the sound of my heart in my ears. Of course, being pointy muzzled species, I turn my head to give him more access to be insistent, though he hardly needs any encouragement.

Scarlet's enthusiasm is something that scares me as much as it goads me on. I don't have to ask to know that he's been waiting to treat me to his affection for a long time, but similarly, I find myself wondering what this all means. I came in here thinking that I was going to tell him that this could move on and be more than just one night, but how quickly would that spiral out of control?

Eventually, he collapses in on my absolute weakness, and doesn't let me forget about it. Plentiful stroking and combing through the very base of my tail, combined with some creative groping, and suddenly I'm a panting mess; to say nothing about everywhere else I'm feeling that influence. When he pulls away this time, it's to voice a simple question. "Bed?"

I hardly have the time to nod before he starts lifting me, prompting me to throw my legs around his waist and hold on. I bet the struggle to aim us straight and not clip a corner is immense, since his original attack on my muzzle is rivaled only by mine in retaliation.

-+-+-+-

"I thought we started on my bed," he interjects. Again, I'm brought out of my reverie by his interruptions.

I shake my head. "No, of course not. How in the hell do you think you could've gotten me onto your bed? You'd only just suggested the idea of me doing stuff with you."

He chuckles. "Hey hey now. You're the wolf who ran with it and decided that I meant to sleep with you. Nowhere in any of my phone calls or texts did I include sex."

I blush a little bit. "Yeah, but--"

"But nothing. Unless you're talking about your butt." He grins at me again, completely difficult and completely lovable for it. I'm just quiet in response, still feeling that familiar burn in my ears. It probably never leaves anytime he's free to talk. Then again, I always blush when we're doing anything else... "Whatcha thinking about?"

I look into his eyes again, surrendering my soul. "To be honest...our story really just happened to work out. I mean, it's kinda lucky that you chose that night to come and see me, and that no one else was with me during that. You chose that time to confess to me that you weren't going to wait much longer, seeing me tear myself apart. And somehow I just happened to stumble into all of that."

His eyes glimmer with a sort of insight I've come to expect of him. He always sounds way older than he is. "You've done much more than stumble after it all, though, wolf. Stumbling through is part of the only reason you were with Tristan. It's the past now." He kisses my forehead, the feeling of being loved so dearly communicated far louder with that action.

And, really, it's true. Sure, the past makes up a little piece of me, but that piece is forgettable. Forgeable. I can do with my past what I like, and no one has to know. Who cares if I had one relationship that didn't work out very well? I didn't leave it any worse scarred than before, and I even get to walk away with Scarlet for it.

Major win.

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