FSE

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After we had all collected ourselves as best we could we put on some decent clothes and got ready to leave. Tabitha had gone to get her car, and, for someone who lives in Charleston on occasion, you'd think she'd be used to having to park a mile away from your intended destination. Either way, from the way she scowled and shifted in her boots before she left, I could tell she wasn't too happy about having to trek a long while. Those boots weren't made for walking; sorry Nancy Sinatra.

I followed Deacon out the front door and made sure to lock it behind me, and then we thumped down the stairs to stand idly on the sidewalk, our heads bobbing from left to right as we waited for Tabitha to pull up.

I scrunched my eyes and plastered my ears back as the roar of an engine barreled through the street like a tidal wave; windows rattled and birds darted from their roosts in the trees. The buildings were so jam packed here that the slightest sound was multiplied by ten, and that always - always - made me despise obnoxiously loud, supped up vehicles.

My tail twitched, and I shook my head, turning my bleeding ears down the street to the right where pedestrians were scampering like rabbits to get out of the road. Deacon looked as well, and his own ears went flat as he shook his head and frowned. His red hair flashed from a streak of sunlight. The downward arch of his lips nearly ran off of his face.

"Dear God," he said. His voice was low and rumbling with anxiousness. "They let'er drive Eleanor."

I flashed him an inquisitive glance, but he was too busy covering his face in shame to notice. An enraged bellow made me stare back down the street where a bull fellow had been getting out of his car that he'd parallel parked. He'd had to flatten himself against the silver Volvo, wrinkling his three-piece suit, to keep from being run over by...

I cringed in both awe and terror. "Oh...oh shit."

The car was gorgeous. My step-dad was a Ford fanatic, so I recognized the make instantly as he'd gushed over having one when he was eighteen. It was a 1970 Mustang Boss 302. It glistened black like a moonless sky at night; the chrome bonnet pins sparkled like silver stars from the shaker hood trembling with pent up horsepower; the windows were tinted, the back one covered by a matte-black horizontal shade; the characteristic hockey and c-stripes along the hood and sides were whiter than white surrounded by all of that dark, and they seemed to vibrate and glow like lightning burning through the bowels of a dark thunderhead. The V-8 indeed rumbled like an encroaching storm, the chorus of firing pistons made all the more intense when the sound reverberated off of the buildings. Tabitha sat calmly behind the wheel.

She took the stares and shouts in stride as she plowed down the street. She stuck her head out for the stereotypical "dog-out-the-window" look, and her red hair billowed like licking flames, Eleanor growling like a caged beast under its master's control. That girl was something else.

I stepped back as she squealed to a stop before us. Deacon didn't budge even though I doubt you could've slipped a sheet of paper between him and the fender. Tabitha's sharp teeth were bared in a frightening and satisfied grin.

She patted Eleanor's metal side. "Hallo' there ya' prett'eh things! How much to getcha' in tha' backseat, 'eh?"

She gunned the engine, and I covered my ears as the vicious snarl shivered my internal organs. "More than you can afford, I'm afraid," I said.

Tabitha plus a muscle car plus tight streets equals bad. I was utterly terrified to get in that car - that utterly gorgeous car.

Deacon gave me a reassuring pat on the back. "Come on," he groaned. "It's no'that far. Even she's capable'o driving a few blocks without killin' someone."

I wasn't so sure. Still, I slipped into the back when Deacon pulled a lever and tilted the front seat forward. The ivory-white leather croaked as I slid back and buckled my seatbelt, and, with a heavy clap, Deacon closed the door. Tabitha peered over her shoulder for oncoming traffic, and I gasped as she gave a sly wink at me, pummeled the gas pedal with the car in neutral, then fluidly stepped on the clutch while slapping the gearshift into first, burning out onto the road. Deacon's eyes were the size of two grapefruit as he held on to the dash for dear life, and Tabitha cackled with glee as Eleanor shot out like a bullet. As terrified as I was, though, I couldn't help but laugh as well. Tabitha's joy was contagious. We left twin plumes of smoke swirling in the road behind us.

Luckily Tabitha slowed down as we went, and her happiness soon became anxiousness as we got closer to their home.

"We haven't been in tha' thing for two years," she said begrudgingly.

My claws sank into the cushion of Eleanor as she maneuvered through the narrow streets, and I felt Deacon's foot smack into the floorboard of the front seat as his sister brought the car to a squalling stop before a red light.

"Ya' can probably swim in the dust by now. I don' even wanna imagine the mess," she sighed. Her eyes darted to a bicyclist we'd nearly plowed over as he shot past before opposing traffic caught him. I think he may have been a dog. His slender snout reminded me of Benji. His feathery-furred tail whipped about behind him as he shot a panicked glance over his shoulder and pedaled like a maniac through the light. I guess he was afraid we were going to give chase.

Pedestrians along the sidewalk eyed the rumbling vehicle wearily before crossing the street, but Tabitha just smiled as they skittered out from in front of the car, acrid smoke whipping up from the exhaust as Eleanor idled.

"Alrigh', Miss Andretti, take it a wee bit slower before you slaughter innocent civilian lives," Deacon gasped. He had been sitting in the same position for the entire drive: Hands pressed firmly into the dashboard, legs stretched out and locked in place, tail sticking out from between his legs.

I stopped bracing myself and popped my claws out of the seat. I felt more comfortable now that the car wasn't hurtling down the road, and decided to look around a bit.

We were on East Bay Street, and the building where tourists always gathered for historical walking tours was on our left. The guide stood up on the porch of the building in full colonial regalia as usual. I couldn't help but admire his powdered wig. Well, I guess it was a wig. He was a poodle from what I could tell. Maybe he was rocking the poof like the females of his breed loved to do.

The light changed, and Tabitha - to our relief - didn't spin the tires; although I could see her biting her lip in frustration to the twenty-five miles per hour we were coaxing along in.

We chugged past the East Bay Garden Gallery. Old Mr. Dawson was sitting on his stool outside the little shop and sketching as he always did when no one was inside perusing his works. I waved to the Gordon setter through the back window, and his curly black fur bobbed on his flopped ears as he grinned and tossed up a paw. Tabitha stopped to let a crowd of folks herd across the street toward the Historical Charleston Foundation, and then the buildings on our left were replaced by the glittering expanse of the Atlantic Ocean. Fort Sumter sat out amongst the waves keeping vigil, and I could make out the enormous form of a cargo super-tanker as it approached from miles away to dock in the harbor.

Furs tromped along the raised walking path alongside the water, and I smiled as gusts of wind barreling across the open water would smack into their faces and toss hats, hair, fur, and loose ears up into a tizzy. The vinegary air slipped cool and refreshing through the open window of the car, and I inhaled it deeply with my mouth open, a tangy, salty aftertaste lingering on my tongue as if I'd just eaten a raw oyster. I loved the aroma, the cool air, the mist that clung to the breeze and made the sunshine all the more brighter. I opened my eyes and saw Deacon more or less cherishing the sea breeze as much as I had been. His eyes were clasped shut and scrunched up in fond recollection. I sighed inwardly to myself. He probably missed being out on the ocean dearly. It'd been so long since he'd been out on the Periwidgeon with his father.

I peered out across the water at a white sail-boat slicing and hopping through the waves. It reminded me of one of the screaming gulls that soared inches from the water's surface, it's flapping, laminate wing of a sail blinding as sunlight reflected off of it. I watched it recede into the distance as we rounded the curb toward the Battery. I wished I had a boat. Deacon would love a boat.

Tabitha had described the house and given her best verbal directions as to where it was, and, up until we began passing the billion dollar mansions which lined the Battery, I thought it would be just another run of the mill two-story somewhere on the quaint backstreets of the city. We didn't turn onto any of the quaint backstreets, however. Instead we kept on and on along Murray Boulevard, passing one mansion after another.

"Look, Colby," said Deacon. He raised his hand and pointed to the opposite side of the street where cars were parked. I followed his finger and found my own car just as we whisked by.

Parking permits from the college are expensive as hell, and even if you get one you have to go through a demolition derby every morning to find a spot in the parking garages. So I opted for the cheaper means and parked along the Battery where it's free. No one bothers your vehicle, but the downside is that sometimes the break-water crashes over the sea wall and splatters onto your car. Salt-water will strip paint like acid over time. I have to wash the dried, crusty scabs of salt off at least three times a week.

Tabitha sneered at my Camaro as it disappeared in the rearview mirror. Eleanor seemed to give a rumble of contempt.

"Don't mock my car," I snapped.

"I dinna' say a thing."

"I saw that look. You got Chevy prejudice, Madam Ford?"

Deacon turned in his seat and smiled at me. His eyes bugged with sincerity. "I love Storm'eh; Like ridin' on a cloud."

I'd named my car Stormy, and I couldn't believe Deacon remembered. I'd done it on the first occasion where I'd driven somewhere with him. We were going to the pier for some reason, and the blistering temperatures that day raised the most furious thunderstorm I'd ever seen. We would've gotten bludgeoned by the pounding rain and wind, so instead of going back to our dorms we sat out in the parking lot for the pier and watched the storm ravage out across the ocean through my car's T-tops. It went on and on for hours, and all the while we just sat there staring up through the glass as violet lightning burned neon webs into the atmosphere, a bolt occasionally scorching into the sea that churned with the howling winds.

I thought the name was fitting. Not just because of the actual storm, but because being stuck in the car alongside Deacon built up an even bigger storm of affection toward him within me. It had been raging on for a long while. It still was, but, unlike the ocean during that onslaught, the waters weren't churning with confusion and fear anymore. Things were much smoother now. You could sail without fear for the most part.

Deacon and I bobbed forward as Tabitha down shifted, and she stopped at the mouth of a dead end street that ended in a wide, circular cul-de-sac. Her tapering ears twitched as she surveyed the three houses that were arranged around the circle, and she squinted her eyes as if she expected the enormous buildings to suddenly vanish into thin air.

She'd locked onto the house that sat in between the other two, right in the pinnacle of the circle. It was a three story Scottish Baronial - Gothic revival style. I knew this because I'd passed it many times while the historic walking tour was standing outside and spouting trivial facts about it. I'd always compared it to a castle. It basically was a castle.

The walls were gray stone; triangular gables broke up set crenellations along the top where decorative, looping ornaments adorned each battlement; a wide, single tower jutted out of the center of the roof, and, as it rose to a low point, a smaller one erupted out off to the right; small, white paned lancet windows popped out of the stone here and there along the higher floors and around the tower, but the whole first floor had been renovated and huge, full windows liberated the once dungeon-esque living area and allowed the outside to be viewed from every room; a roofed, wrap around porch had been added on as well, and it spanned the entire perimeter of the first floor, thick, ridged beams of wood holding the shingled covering up and in place.

The whole structure sat within a grove of Magnolia trees, and the yard, though expansive, was probably always cast in pleasant shade. Thick tendrils of ivy traced each of the upper floors like leafed veins, and the side of the tower facing us was completely covered in it. I wagered, if you were brave enough, you could climb down from the tower window using nothing but the ivy as a ladder.

I marveled at the place. To me it seemed to be a home born of the earth herself. It embraced the wild, untamable nature of...well...nature, and that made it all the more beautiful and alluring.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I spurted without pause after taking the entire house in. Deacon and Tabitha looked at me as if everything was hunky-dory and that they didn't own a (probably) billion-dollar home in the heart of historic, downtown Charleston. "Tell me you're joking." A glance passed innocently between them. I cupped my muzzle in my paws. I felt a little light headed. "This place...it's...it's yours?"

Tabitha's mouth crooked up to one side. "Wee bit over tha' top, innit?"

I glanced at the house again and compared it to the others along the street. It was just as luxurious, but it wasn't as tacky or gaudy as many of the pink-painted, full-sized doll houses I was used to seeing. I preferred its rustic look much more.

Deacon beamed toward the house. "Home away from home."

Tabitha put Eleanor into reverse and rumbled backward enough to whip the car into the cul-de-sac. There wasn't a gate onto the property, much to my surprise; houses like this always had a gate. I guessed the Frazier's were much more welcoming to strangers than most of their neighbors.

Dried Magnolia cones that had fallen from the trees popped and cracked beneath the tires as we wheeled up the concrete driveway. The path lead around to the back of the house where a matching three-car garage was attached, and Tabitha brought Eleanor to a stop just outside the wide, closed door.

Deacon grunted as his sister leaned across his lap and popped open the glove compartment. A stack of loose CD's and other things cascaded out onto his feet, and he rolled his eyes, crossing his broad, silver-furred arms as Tabitha hissed through clenched teeth. She rifled around in the floorboard then reemerged with a plastic box clasped in her paw. Her thick, fiery hair fell in tangled rivulets across her face, and she puffed up her cheeks and blew the strands out of her eyes before sitting back with a grin spread across her muzzle.

"Let's see if you still work, darlin'."

It was the opener for the garage, and, much to Tabitha's chagrin, it didn't work. She pressed it sharply over, and over to no avail. The repeated clicking of the button was really irritating. She groaned as she gave up, and her grin whipped into a toothy scowl as she tossed the box angrily over her shoulder. I glared at her after quickly snatching the little thing out of the air before it cracked into my snout.

"Sorry," she squeaked innocently.

I turned the black plastic over in my hands as Deacon opened his door and shimmied out of the car. "Where's tha key to tha front?"

Tabitha tossed her eyes wide. "Ya'know very well where." She jabbed a clawed finger toward the garage.

Deacon sagged where he stood. "O'bloody course," he grumbled. His hands pressed firmly to his hips as he surveyed the door. "I'll get it," he sighed.

I guess he was going to open it by hand. As much as I wanted to believe he could do it, the door looked incredibly heavy. It appeared to be made out of the same hardwood that the pillars for the porch were cut from. The surface of it was riddled with deep, brand-like scores, and it was divided into three sections by two wide, black bands of iron. The bands were fastened on by bolts that were driven through them and into the wood, and they'd been welded in place and sharpened to a fine point. My ears fell back as I realized how much the door resembled the bombarded gate to a castle under siege. I suppose it was to fit in the motif of the rest of the house.

Deacon's tail swayed from side to side as he stood in the middle of the door and sized it up, shifting from one foot to the other and rolling his broad shoulders. The feathery fur that sprouted out of his elbows and ran down his forearms whisked about as he loosely shook his paws, and then he squatted expertly, back straight and legs at a ninety degree angle, and slipped his fingers under the small crack between the door bottom and the cement. I continued to fumble with the opener as I watched my boyfriend, both tantalized and worried that he might hurt himself.

The muscles of his back popped and twitched beneath his shirt, and his butt and legs were flexed so much that I thought he might accidentally split his jeans. The thick mane on his neck bristled as he let out a raucous "HYYUP!" and exploded upward in a single, powerful motion. He made it look so easy. I thought I could've lifted it if given the chance, but, as he shoved the door upward above his head and whipped his chorded arms up so as to catch it before it fell, I knew I wouldn't have been able to lift it an inch. He nearly buckled under the weight of it when it came back down. I heard him grunt in surprise and shock as he fought to keep his arms rigid, his paws clenched around the thick base of the door, the rest of him trembling with exertion at his feat.

I immediately knew he wouldn't be able to get it completely open; there was no way. He realized it, too, and roared savagely as he tossed it up and pounced backward so it wouldn't crush him when it came back down. I flinched at the sharp crack, like an enormous baseball bat striking a steel ball, which the door made when it tumbled closed again. I swear I felt the concussion of it ripple through the driveway and into the car.

Deacon was bent over huffing deep breaths, and he leaned against Eleanor's hood with his pink tongue lolling out of the side if his mouth. He raked his blazing hair back with his paw, and he bobbed his shoulders in a shrug when he saw both Tabitha and I staring wide-eyed at him through the windshield.

Tabitha's whiskers twitched as she shook her head, and her green eyes blazed. "Well, hell." Eleanor rocked as she flung open her door, and she twisted elegantly to the side with her shapely legs together before flinging her feet angrily to the ground with a resounding clop of her boots.

I kept fiddling with the opener as the two of them grumbled over what to do. I flipped it over and popped off the back so I could see the batteries. I both laughed and groaned. There weren't any batteries. "For the love of God," I sputtered, leaning over the front seat and looking down into the mess of crap that had fallen out of the glove box. I didn't know if they'd be there, it didn't seem likely, but as I peered around I spied the "+" end of one miraculously sticking out of the mouth of a little linen bag. My belly was smashed agonizingly into the seat as I bent over it and plucked the bag from the floorboard, snagging it with an unsheathed claw and grunting as I pulled myself back up.

I yanked the battery I saw free and slid it into the opener, and then I upended the bag in the hopes that the other battery was inside. The little thing tumbled onto my awaiting lap along with something wrapped in water-stained print paper. I put the other battery in and clasped the back cover on again, and, to my relief, the small LED light above the button shimmered green. I glanced up to see that Deacon and Tabitha had wandered off somewhere. They were probably attempting to shimmy open a window, and my tail thumped spastically against the car seat as I laughed, envisioning Deacon's ass sticking halfway out as he'd gotten himself lodged. I grabbed the little bag and placed it in the front seat. I held the thing wrapped in paper up to the light streaming in through the rear window so I could get a better look at it.

It fit completely in the palm of my hand and felt like a disk, but the middle gave in when I squeezed it between my fingers so I guessed it was a ring. More likely it was a bracelet, but until I stripped the paper off I wouldn't know for sure. It wasn't mine to unwrap, though. My skin seemed to ignite and sear into each bristle and strand of fur on my body, and I grimaced as I read the message and name written sloppily across one side of the paper:

To Collin Brent.

It was a gift for Collin of all furs. I'd say I was angry, and my tail did begin to twitch as I held the mysterious little memento of Deacon's rapist in my clenched hand, but...

I shook my head. My auburn mop of hair whisked across my ears as they fluttered.

I didn't know what this was, and I didn't know when it had intended to be given. I slid the end of my finger over the water stains in the paper, and I could make out the feint, powdery discolorations of mold that had once sprouted but had died long ago. I leaned back over the front seat and peered into the glove box. It was deeper than I thought, and at the very bottom, stuck in the corner, was a gross imprint of spilled liquid which had stained the wrapping. The thing could've been in there for years. It would've gone undiscovered longer if everything on top of it hadn't fallen out at once. Funny I should be the one to find it.

I climbed out of the car and listened for any sign of Tabitha and Deacon. I perked my ears to hear the feint mumblings of them from somewhere in the front. They seemed to be coming back. I stuck Collin's gift in my pocket and aimed the opener toward the garage. The whole structure seemed to rumble and shudder after I pressed the button, and some powerful pulley system heaved the monstrous barrier up and yanked it back.

The garage was surprisingly orderly, but it was still stuffed to the brim with shelves and cabinets full of things, the floor all but bare except for the thing that sat in the center draped in a tarp. I ran a paw across the surface. From the way the covering curved and jutted I could tell a motorcycle lay underneath, but there was so much dust and pollen on the thing that I didn't want to risk destroying my sinuses to take a peek. I think I'd snooped enough as it was. The little package in my pocket seemed to weigh much more heavily than it actually was.

"What tha'," I heard Tabitha mumble.

I turned to find her staring about perplexed. Deacon was doing the same, although a smile tweaked across his muzzle as I locked eyes with him, wiping my paw on my pants-leg. His tail bobbed about behind him.

I could feel the gift in my pocket as I wiped the grime from my pads again. Deacon crossed his arms and beamed at me. Tabitha screwed up her face in puzzlement as she tromped into the garage, casting quick, scrutinizing glances towards me as she peered around. I reached in and grasped the gift. Deacon strode toward me.

I let the thing go. It tugged as it fell. I'd show him later.

"How?" he asked.

I thrust up my chin and flexed my arms. "Nothing to it, you pansy."

"HAH," Tabitha barked.

"Hah indeed," I returned, tossing her the opener. "There weren't any batteries in it."

She glanced bemused at the thing in her paw. Her tail went limp. "Oh."

Deacon coughed from behind us, and a squeak followed as a door opened, pollen-tinged dust billowing as it swung out. "Christ," he hacked. His eyes were watering as he glided over and rifled through a cabinet. He pulled out a handful of paper masks after setting a spindle of weed-eater chord aside. His fur and hair were tinged pastel-yellow as he turned to toss us each a mask. His face seemed to glow with tree sperm. "We're gonna need these."

We did indeed.

It took a good seven hours to get the place in good enough shape to receive guests. We each took a floor and, of course, opened every window, turning the AC on to filter in fresh air. The huge wall-windows on the first floor (where I got to work) could even open! They each had a crank that you could turn, and, after popping a release knob, they'd glide right out and lift themselves to the ceiling of the porch. It left the entire level opened to fresh air, and it gave the semblance of living without any confinements or restraints.

It also made it much easier to dust.

Deacon came down after hearing the first initial crank of the leaf-blower I'd found in the garage, but he soon retreated after I'd raised enough dust to cloud out a lighthouse beacon. It blew out just as quickly as it was stirred up, though, and made everything else that was left to do much, much easier.

We vacuumed, swept, scrubbed, and mopped. Nothing was left untouched, and, even when we felt like dropping and the sun cast the world outside in somber darkness, we still continued until the task was done. In the end grime was crusted and inlaid in our fur, our noses only perceived the smell of cleaning agents and musty air, and we were so famished that we could hardly find the energy to toss our dirty rags in the washing machine.

Together we all walked into the squeaky-clean living room, and Deacon promptly collapsed onto the sofa with his rump sticking up. His tail wavered in the air like a flag without a breeze, and he didn't even manage a squeak when I patted his butt and tugged on his limp, furry appendage. I then fell onto the couch next to him, and he scooted closer and laid his head in my lap, his butt still sticking up. Tabitha didn't even make it into a chair, instead sinking onto the floor and lying down with her hair nestled around her face like a fiery halo.

"Tiiiired," Deacon groaned. The utterance vibrated in his throat and made my leg quiver; my scar prickled a little bit.

I ran my fingers down the bridge of his snout then scratched him behind an ear. "Me too, big guy."

"I smell like'a horse's arse," Tabitha slobbered. She'd shed her jacket and boots hours ago, and she had rolled up her pants and cuffed them, walking around barefoot as she cleaned. I noticed that the pads on her soles were pink, while the ones on her hands were black. She sat up and shook her curly mane, then pulled a hairband from somewhere and yanked it back into a ponytail. "You reckon the clothes still fit? I gotta take a bath. Neither Heaven nor Hell could keep me from tha' tub..."

"I dunno," Deacon said. He turned his head in my lap to look at his sister. "Probabl'eh; if they haven't been eaten by moths."

"We put'em all in containers tha' last time."

"Oh. No worries then."

"You keep clothes here, too?" I asked. I shouldn't have been surprised. If they were rich enough to afford a home like this, then they could afford to have multiple wardrobes. I was just under the impression that people took their clothes with them on vacation instead of swapping them out.

"Yah," Deacon said. "I probably can't get in'ta mine. I think I'll risk it, though. I wanna wash, too, but I dun wanna' go anywhere."

I scowled as I slipped a hand through my hair and fur, feeling how greasy and crusted it had become as I'd sweated and collected dust. "Gross. A shower sounds great right about now."

Deacon nuzzled against my stomach. "You can wear some of my old clothes." He chuckled. "They should fit a'right. I'd feel bad if'ya had to put those nasty things back on."

"Thanks, bo."

He grunted as he lifted himself up, and he squirmed as he pressed his nose to mine. "You go; I'm sure you know where the baths are by now. I'll get'cha something to change inta."

I ruffled his hair and slipped off of the couch, anxious to get clean. Tabitha got up at the same time, but we parted ways at the stairs as she bounded up them with energy I thought we'd all spent.

I shuffled to the bathroom I'd cleaned hours ago, and felt somewhat apprehensive to dirty it up again. As I turned the knob to let the water get warm, though, the cascading of it against the shower curtain called my name. The water came out rusty-red at first - because the pipes hadn't seen it running in a while I guess - but it soon cleared and began to steam up the place. I shed my clothes and, since I was still running in tidy-mode, I folded them and sat them on the black, marble countertop. I felt Collin's gift in the pocket of my shorts as I folded them, and I yanked it out and held it up in the mirror, somewhat bidding it to reveal its secrets.

A soft knock on the door made me jump, and the gift slipped out of my hand. "Yoohoo," Deacon sang. "I've got'cher clothes and a crisp, warm t-o-w-e-l."

He came in as I snatched the gift from the floor, and his silver cheeks were touched with a rosy-blush as he saw I was butt-naked. He wasn't much better off. He did have a towel, but it was wrapped around his otherwise nude self; two sets of clothes were clutched under his left arm. It didn't bother me that he could see everything. I honestly didn't even think about it, but just stood there with my tail curling around my legs as he sat the clothes down and walked toward me with his eyes looking everywhere but at my body.

"Cute," I smirked. "But, come on now; it'd happen eventually. Stop playing coy."

He grinned bashfully, and my gaze roved over him, tracing every line of a muscle, every shimmer and blemish of his fur. He finally overcame his sheepishness, and his tail started to wag as he smiled and let his eyes roll over me.

"You're bigger than I thought," he chuckled.

I immediately looked down, thinking he'd meant...

"Gah!" he barked. His blush returned ten-fold. "That...tha's not wha' I meant." He shuffled uncomfortably. His towel sank down his hips as he swayed. "Muscle-wise. You're...I mean; you are...big, but...Oh, bollocks."

He was so flipping adorable when he was flustered. I felt kind of bad for thinking he'd be just as comfortable as I was, but clearly he still needed a little time. I couldn't help but laugh, though, and he brightened up a little as I did, his tail resuming its wag and tugging his towel even lower. I could make out the veins webbing along his lower abdomen.

I started to get worked up. That could lead to one of two places: Utter-Awkwardness land, or Hot-N-Steamyville. It was looking closer to the latter; it was literally already hot-n-steamy, after all.

"Calm down," I said taking a step toward him. "This..." I motioned to my body and my dick. "It's nothing you haven't seen before."

"But..."

I laid my hands on top of his defined chest. His heart was going crazy. I waited until he loosened up a little and wrapped my arms around his back, laying my head against him. He smelled musky and raw, but it was him and I savored it. He moaned, quivered, and then laid a big paw over my head, embracing me with the other arm. I shivered pleasantly as he kissed the spot between my ears, and then, in one quick motion, I slid my arms down and yanked his towel free.

He squealed and bounced in surprise, but he didn't let go, and I loved him for it. It was hilarious, but he didn't let his embarrassment get the better of him.

"Deviant," he mused grumpily into my hair.

I lowered my voice and said in my best Scottish accent, "It had'ta be done. After all, I think ya came here with sumthin in mind anyways, right?"

His body shook as he laughed. "Yes. I did."

I looked up at him. "What?"

Lord the rosy cheeks. "I...I just...thought it'd be nice to...to take a shower with'ya; that's all."

My own tail began to wag. "Really?"

"Y...yeah? I mean, if that's alright..."

Of course it was alright! This was huge! Not just for me, but because the last time Deacon had showered with someone - well - it... it ruined him. He'd worked up the courage to overcome his shame and open himself up to me. I was so overjoyed that I cupped his face in my paws and kissed him as passionately as I could.

I'd forgotten about Collin's gift that was still in my hand, though. The sharp edge of it caught his cheek bone, and he grinned as he caught my hand and looked at it.

"What's this?"

"Uh..."

No point in hiding it anymore. Here we both were literally stripped and exposed to one another. It wouldn't seem right. I held it out in my paw and he took it. His face went flat as he read the message written on it, but, to my astonishment, he smiled after a second or two.

He gazed at me. "Where'd ya find this?" He then punctured the center of the wrapper with a claw and stripped the paper off.

"It fell out of the glove compartment of the car. I picked it up when I found the batteries." My head fell and my ears went flat, tail going limp in shame. "I'm sorry. I was just curious."

His red hair flicked as he shook his head, his emerald eyes soft and sincere. "No, no, bo; It's alright."

He held the thing up now that it was free of its wrappings, and I could see that it was in fact a bracelet. It was beautiful, too. It looked to be made of woven brass wire, now dulled somewhat due to time, and it curved around but didn't close completely. Instead there was a gap, and on each end of the strand was a decorative adornment. One was a lion's head - without a mane - and the other was a wolf's. If you pressed the gap closed it'd appear as if the two were joined in a kiss.

Deacon saw how unkempt my feelings were to discovering the thing, and he smiled sweetly at me, turning the bracelet over in his hands. "I made this when I was sixteen, and - yes - it was for Collin."

I grimaced, and he frowned at his forwardness. He stepped closer to me, and my eyes fell to his stomach. I gazed into his navel instead of looking anywhere else.

"I was gonna give it to him, but I never worked up the courage to do it. I was..." His warm hand cupped my chin, and he lifted my head so we looked into one another's eyes. "I was too afraid. I thought he'd find it a wee bit too...intimate." He grinned as he let his hand fall, and he gingerly rubbed the thick, chocolate ruffle that ran down the center of my chest, his hand pausing over my heart. "It was a symbol o'how I cared about him. To him it would'a meant nothin', but it carried a lot of my love." He looked at me warmly. His nostrils flared with emphasis. "This was made for the lion that held my heart. Now, I..." He bowed his head, and he bent the bracelet gently so it could be slipped over a wrist. "I dinnae think ta'ever find it again. I thought I'd tossed it, but apparently..." His paw stroked my cheek. "Apparently it was meant for another lion, the Mountain lion who truly - truly - holds my heart." His hand slipped down my right arm and grasped my paw, and then he pulled it up and kissed the back right above my knuckles.

I choked back a sob, but tears still dripped from the corners of my eyes. I loved him too much to hold my emotions back anymore, even though I knew I'd cried more in the last few days than I had in the last twelve years or so.

"Deacon," I hiccupped.

I don't know why, but I thought he was about to get down on one knee. He may have even thought about it, but then he would've been in a rather odd position with his head between my legs. Instead he grasped my paw with both his hands and held it to his chest, the bracelet dangling between his fingers.

"Colby," he said. "I know it's only been a'few days since we've been together, but I've cared about ya since tha' day we first met. Tha things that've happened - tha things that've happened ta both of us - I know it's brought us to one another." He kissed my hand again, and I wavered where I stood. "Colby, I love ya'. I care about ya' like no one else. We've both gone through all sorts'a hell-n-grief, but somehow it all has changed us and made us right for each other." His eyes sparked like emerald stars as he looked into mine, and he wiped away a tear that sat stubbornly on the brink of an eyelash. "You've changed me, Colby, and no matter what happens when my family comes - no matter what they say - I will be who I am: the man who will love you no matter the cost."

He then unclasped his hands and slipped the bracelet over my wrist. He squeezed it to close the gap, and as the lion and wolf ornaments joined together, so did we. His tongue stroked mine, his hands danced across my back as mine tangled in his mane and hair, and our tails coiled and tied themselves into a knot.

There wasn't any stopping it. We were one. Somehow we found our tangled way into the shower, and the blistering water washed us clean of any doubts we may have had.