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I almost canceled the wedding. Right there, on the spot, after he told me about his father. Without sugarcoating it, I almost made one of the biggest mistakes of my life because my fiancé told me the truth. Granted, I had been the one to insist that husbands couldn't keep secrets from each other, but I never expected Harold's skeleton in the closet to be so...complicated.

Well, complicated and completely taboo.

A few weeks before our big day, after confessing my own sins to the wonderfully attentive, middle-aged husky (the worst of which was that I once drunkenly kissed Eliza Simmons at my company's Christmas party), Harry sat me down. He wanted me to be ready, to promise that I'd still love him no matter what, and hoped I could forgive him for never telling. The way his graying black-furred ears folded down word and whimpered while struggling to keep looking me in the eye, it did worry me. However, that worry would then turn into shock and slight horror when Harry got straight to the point.

"My dad and I...were together, before he passed away. A-And I mean 'together' together. I-I-Inces...Incestuously. He was my mate."

For the next three hours, Harry told me all about a hidden part of his history that I never knew existed. One that recontextualized everything I thought I knew about the burly Siberian husky who asked me to marry him.

Harold 'Harry' Anderson grew up in the Lakertown suburbs with only himself, his hardworking father Damian, and a perpetually sick mother who loved them both so very much. Diane did her best to be an amazing mother in spite of the skin cancer, raising her son and preparing her family for the inevitable day when things got worse. To make a long story short, her death was the sole reason that Harry temporarily dropped out of college, because Damian couldn't support himself from the raw emotional pain of losing the woman he loved. She served as their rock, always making sure they did their best either in school or at work, while taking the time to cook extraordinary meals for them.

Now, she was gone. Harry and his father were all alone with only each other for support. A little over a year passed before Harry convinced his dad to rejoin the workforce, who himself reapplied for classes at a community college. Slowly but surely, a strange new dynamic began to form between father and son. It became less familial and more...romantic, like a wedded couple. Damian would reluctantly leave for work after consuming a delicious breakfast cobbled together by Harry, who'd then wish him a wonderful day at work before spending his time studying/going to classes. He also took the time to clean up the house in his spare time, as well as do laundry or yardwork when his father couldn't do it.

Over time, compliments turned into awkward flirtations. A loving hug lingered for too long. They sometimes walked around without bothering to put on a shirt or pants, until a movie night together in the living room led to Harry and his affectionate father waking up in the middle of the night, having fallen asleep while cuddling together. Sexual tension grew and one thing led to another before unexpectedly, Damien kissed his adult son the way a father shouldn't ever do, and hairy kissed back like it was the most natural thing in the world.

He didn't go into much detail, promising me it was all consensual between them, but intrusive thoughts lead to me conjuring mental images. I imagined Damian carnally fucking his son, vividly thrusting inside the younger Siberian husky in feverish abandonment of any morals. The thought alone made me feel both aroused and appalled at myself.

The relationship between Harry and his father would never be the same again. That night opened up Pandora's box, and what began as sex to 'release tension' soon transformed into a genuine, twisted love. Harry told me that hindsight helped him realize that he basically replaced his mother as his father's wife, taking on the role until it eventually turned into incestuous romance, but he didn't regret it. Not one single bit, because it helped his grieving father learn to live again. And it also helped Harry open up about his repressed feelings to the older husky.

The two of them settled into a routine. As far as the world was concerned, Damian and Harry were a normal father and son, with no friends, colleagues, professors, or classmates ever aware of what they did behind closed doors. Both canines relied on each other as an outlet; romantically, sexually, emotionally, physically, mentally, and spiritually, with nobody suspecting the true extent of their relationship for close to eighteen years. Sure, there had been times when they tried to break things off once in a while, especially if a great man came into Harry's dating life, but things always returned to normal eventually. The boyfriends came and went with time, but he still returned to his father's bed one night, and they made it their own again. They still needed each other, deep down. Damian couldn't resist making taboo love to his son again no more than Harry tried to deny that his father was the love of his life.

Eventually though, the two Siberian huskies learned that all good things came to an end. Damian got older, as did Harry, but the former's age started taking a heavier, gradual toll on his elderly body. Especially once he retired, unable to continue doing work. First, Damian's energy for the day started to shrink, followed by hie previously ambitious sex drive, then his food intake and eventually memory. Soon, the elderly husky couldn't differentiate the memories he held of his son from those of his previous wife, to the point he sometimes confused one for the other. During which, Harry loyally remained close by his aging father's side throughout. He stayed with Damian, loving him and unconditionally caring for him like all those years ago.

Sitting in front of me, Harry broke down into raw sobs once he described going to the funeral. The repulsed shock I felt before transformed immediately back into loving empathy as I leaned forward to pull him into a hug. I let the burly husky cry his eyes out, whispering to my fiancé I wouldn't go anywhere, that it was okay, how I loved him so much.

By the time that Harry managed to collect himself again, we had another long conversation. He told me that after his father passed away, he couldn't stand living in Lakertown anymore, and decided to start over. By the time he sold the house and the remaining relatives stopped contesting his father's will (it left him with absolutely everything), Harry used the life insurance money to move out west for a fresh start. He spent a few years grieving, absolutely convinced nobody out there could ever love him like Damien did. Then, I came into his life.

"Nobody can ever replace him," he whimpered to me, "but I'm not asking you to. I want to marry you because you're you. You're my mate, now. You're the reason I want to get married after all this time. And if you can forgive me, do you still want to?"

After some time thinking things over, yes, I did. I still wanted to marry him. So, the wedding continued onward. We had plenty of pictures taken, enjoyed the reception with our close group of friends, I then ventured to Oasis afterwards for a week of non-stop fun/lovemaking unlike anything we'd ever experienced. During which, the hidden spark of passion I knew existed inside my husky brightened up in full bloom as we enjoyed our honeymoon. I'd never seen him more alive, even as we were dating. This continued to grow and grow after moving into our new home together. He couldn't be happier, and neither could I.

I still struggled with fully understanding Harry's past, sometimes. However, it didn't change the fact that I loved him. I very much loved him and wouldn't change anything about him for the world.

We planned on visiting Lakertown once more, to visit his father's grave. I managed to convince him to bring me along, if not to support him as he found closure, then to at least introduce his newlywed husband to his beloved father and former lover.