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Chapter 23: The Fall

The fox knew what was coming, yet he ran. He knew what would happen, but he did not stop himself. It confused him. He did not understand why he chose to follow through with his action, but there he was, rushing forward at the wolf. He had already run into that wall once, why do it again?

Maybe it knocked something ajar inside his head. Perhaps something was loose. He could not think clearly through the haze, but it was a haze he created, and he knew it.

It felt as if in slow motion, that time dragged as he neared his inevitable collision. Part of him wanted to fall, stop before he got there, but what would the wolf think if he did that? Perhaps he could just say that he tripped.

He would injure himself, he knew. This was not something he was accustomed to, yet he did it for the wolf's sake, just because he asked. But why? It was a fleeting thought, with the fleeting answer flashing in his mind. It was because the wolf was his friend, and he had asked him.

He closed his eyes and dived at the wolf. He figured he might as well had jumped off a building, and braced himself for impact.

It was there. He knew it would be there. The wall that stood in front of him, like a tower made of steel and pain. He felt it on his shoulder, the substance harder than diamond, impervious and invincible.

But it was not as hard as the last time. It did not hurt as much, but instead began to give way. He continued forward and the wall began to topple. Surprised, he opened his eyes.

He saw the wolf out of the corner of his eye, a small smile on his face, yet his jaw was clenched as he braced himself. The fall had been planned, it seemed, as the fox had suspected, hoped for, but never expected.

In what felt a year turned to be a fraction of a second as the reservations that the fox maintained melted in his mind. His internal fortitude with his paradigms and mental designs felt to be the wall that toppled, as he realized that it was for a friend he would bear the burden.

They were on the floor, in the ruins of his misconceptions. He lie atop the wolf, breathing heavily, his face pressed against the shirt that housed the wolf's abdomen. The feeling was not fake, it felt as if he rested upon stone, but at least it was soft and warm. It moved slowly, since the wolf had not exerted much effort in merely what seemed to be catching the fox and falling.

Roger did not move. He had discarded his original thoughts, but now they returned. Slowly his face began to flush as he realized where he currently was. In due part to his heavy breathing, his olfactory senses were being bombarded with the wolf's scent. He maintained his position as a statue, motionless.

Hunter spoke in a soft chuckle, "See, it wasn't so bad, was it?"

Roger attempted to shake his head, but merely managed to brush his face against the wolf's stomach for a moment. He blushed furiously and quickly said, "N-no, it was okay. I just...." His voice faltered. He grew conscious of his arms as they were now paining him slightly from their awkward position, yet he still did not move.

The wolf smiled and patted him on the head, not moving either.

It was almost too much for the fox. His arms pained him and he desperately wanted to move them as a result, but also because he knew the position he was in was inciting a lust he tried to remove from himself.

His mind was too fogged to focus on anything particular, but slowly his focus was returning, though not on anything that would help his situation. The blushing was causing him to feel slightly dizzy, and something swelled in his loins that he wished to hide.

The wolf's body might as well have been bare to him, for he could feel all of what he was pressed against. He aware of the curves, flats, rises and dips that spread across the wolf's body like a terrain he had yet explored, and it excited him. He realized at that moment that the entire time he had been lying on something soft, in contrast to the rest of the wolf. When he figured out what it was in his head, he blushed harder than he ever had before.

In spite of his desire to stay where he was, he rolled over, making sure to land back on his belly to hide any indication of his arousal. His ears were folded in embarrassment and shame from what he felt, physically and his emotional reaction to the physical.

The wolf got up and offered a paw to grab, so that the fox could get up, as well. It only took a few seconds for his excitement to subside, and then he took the wolf's paw, and got up, as well.

Roger could not look at the wolf directly, as doing so would only make it difficult to control himself. As was his usual defense versus such things, he began to let his mind wander toward other matters, particularly of school and his classes. It reminded him that they needed to study a little bit, so as to cement the knowledge that the wolf had been picking up.

He made mention of it, and the wolf reacted as expected: his ears drooped and his tail fell, he seemed disappointed but agreed without any rebuttal.

The fox, however, said, "We'll do that later I guess. Whatever the case, I need a shower." The wolf nodded and retreated to his room, only to return with a towel and offered it to him. Roger accepted it, grabbed some clothes, and brought it to the bathroom, its location reaffirmed by a gesture of the wolf.

The fox stood in front of the mirror, removing his clothes, while peering at himself. He sighed and asked himself, "What's wrong with you? Why can't you get a grip of yourself?"

He thought of the wolf and blushed, and his loins stirred again. He noticed that his blushing was hardly noticeable, only if someone had looked for it in his ears, and only if they had the intent to find it. Still, he wanted to avoid it.

He turned on the water, made sure it was a proper temperature, and then looked back in the mirror. Part of his body demanded attention, but he denied it. Rather, he shook his head, sighed, and went under the soft cascade.

He hoped it would absolve him of his thoughts.