Ψ · I got a bad case of lovin' you

Timed after doctor, doctor, give me the news - I continued the title, sue me

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 @Flynn had not looked well enough to be wandering out away from the doctor, even if he was exhausted.

 He'd looked terrible, frankly (though not nearly as bad as he'd look later) and she was worried about her friend. Calling him that didn't quite feel right but it was all she had, really. He and Remus were the only two she'd had a real sit and chat with so she felt somewhat connected to the two, even though with Remus, it was more soldier-to-soldier and less friend-to-friend.

 Nevertheless, off she went, following his trail tinted with blood, heading towards his heavily decorated den. It was a familiar route, one she'd taken before both when she'd found him that first day and a few other times when she'd wandered by to see if he was in.

 Most of the time, he was not.

 “Flynn, you in there?” she called on approach as his scent and the scent of blood grew stronger. She'd have his wounds tended to if she had to sit on him to force him still so she could check on them herself.

 If he wasn't, she'd have to hunt him down. He was not about to go die of blood loss on her watch.

the staff team luvs u

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He crumbled. like a sliver of newspaper upon the damp ground, he crumbled. Baby curls of downy fawn muddled with blood and tears, tender chocolate paws blushed pink with raw flesh. His body, coated in dirt and grass and rotting leaves. Aching joints no longer supplied the strength to walk, and when he lost the power to do so, the prince dragged himself home until he couldn't see the sun.

He hadn't made it inside, not entirely. His hind sprawled outside in awkward, twitching shapes, his luckier half rasping out heavy breaths, looking at the four walls of his house through eyes not wishing to open. For a moment he'd drifted off into slumber, praying for death only to wake up to that all-too-familiar voice. 

She'd come for him, of course, she had. Why couldn't she just leave him alone?

“G...Go away, Messia... Please.” Suffocating on himself, fragile paws weakly attempting to cover his battered face with the pelts that lined his floor. Who had sent her? Why had she come? Had she no respect for the dead? 

—

 

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 She knew she was imposing. Always there, especially when she wasn't wanted. It was a habit, an obsession... probably why she always ended up alone. No one wanted the wolf who would keep bothering you when you just wanted to be alone. Even if it was to help you. It was sure to get on your nerves, piss you off, make you send her away. Make you not want to be around her, not ever.

 But she couldn't help it.

 She couldn't help but want to help, want to cling to those few moments of closeness. It was a life line. If she let go, she would fall. She would drift away, unwanted. Despised. Mocked. Then, ultimately, forgotten. She couldn't stand that - just the idea was suffocating.

 Even if he didn't l...

 She would help her friend, even if he didn't want her to. He was stubborn and if she let it, that stubbornness would take him from her, from them. From his pack, his friends, his family. The collection of wolves she didn't fit into, could never fit into because she didn't belong anywhere.

 She heard his voice, heard him plead with her to leave him, and entered anyway. “No.” she said firmly. “I'm sorry, Flynn, but you're hurt. If you don't let anyone tend to your wounds, they will get infected and you will die.” Not only was he hurt from the jaunt in the river, but also from the jaunt with the Nightwalkers where he'd been flung hopelessly limp at Celnes's feet. “I'm sorry to ignore your pleas, but I'm not going to let you die.”

 Maybe it was selfish, but dammit. Maybe she wanted to be selfish sometimes.

 “Let me clean you up and I'll leave you to sleep, but you must sleep. You can't heal if you keep reopening your wounds and opening more.”

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Through ears now pinned had he heard her, the sternness in her tone, the heaviness in her chest. She surely spoke as if he was on death's doorstep, and although she had every capability to ring the doorbell, she hadn't. Flynn shifted, mouth agape, eyes watering. He wanted to look at her, to paint a picture of the last beautiful thing he would ever see. He couldn't quite catch a glimpse of her, but still was she magnificent.

Tears that lined his lids squinting, the pale shine of the sun illuminating her, placing a watercolour halo above her head. Albeit mangled, he could feel a soft movement in his tail, one that came naturally when he saw that pretty red face.

“You're so lovely, Meissa.” Nose dripping with snot, he'd squeak out a pathetic sentence with his dry throat, speaking as if they were his last words. “I don't get it, w-why are you so nice to me?” But they weren't, the cracking, pubescent sounds kept rattling out. Even as he slung his carcass to support his weight upon a wall, he continued talking. “Why haven't you hit me yet? C...Can you tell me what I'm doing right? I w...Want to get better at it, I want to make them happy.” No specifying who 'they' was, no true indication if he was losing his mind directly in front of her.

Body flailing, sliding back down the wall in a pitiful 'plop', he had attempted to curl himself up to gather warmth, but he had failed and was now stuck trembling in what smelled like his own urine. “I...I... What?” Rapid blinks were the first sign of regaining full consciousness, then a series of gags followed by whines of confusion. Meissa was here, and she'd offered to help him, and all he could do was stare back at her. He was... Here, for the most part, but this half of him wasn't sure if he wanted to be here, either.

It didn't matter though, he'd taken one look at her and knew she wasn't about to let him get away this time. So he pouted, tossing his head to his paws. “If... If that's what you want to do... But you'll probably regret it.” Halfheartly spoken, words not letting way the real intent behind them. 

—

 

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 Her feelings were mixed, confused. Throughout them all, there was a sadness that she could not quite understand though it soaked through her very essence, she realized, even before all this. When the man lay here, as if wishing to die, she felt a mirroring within herself. She would not respond to his compliment, feeling anything rising to her tongue to be tainted with jealousy - a jealousy, she reminded herself, that had no foundation. It was vile and she had to get rid of it, somehow. Like an insect, it burrowed under her skin and clung to her innards, despite all her chewing and washing to clear it away. “Can't you see I -” she caught her tongue, gripping it between incisors, before clearing her throat, shaking her head.

 Her eyes softened as he asked why she hadn't hit him yet.

 “Why would I?” she said softly, though she knew why she might: he was being an idiot. Even she knew not to kick a man while he was down, though, even though he needed a good foot to the rear.

 He tried to stand or sit or something but fell and she started forward to try to help him, pressing her nose into his neck, ears pinned back in concern as the man made gags and whines. He was in a bad shape and she wouldn't be surprised if Remus - whatever he had or hadn't done to him - had made this worse. Anger flared within her, furious that they had done this to him and he hadn't the sense to try to make it better. He went out for swims, brought back random girls that clung to his neck - and for what? To bleed out alone in his den?

 That tiny hound's presence in the pack was not worth Flynn's life.

 That damned alliance was not worth Flynn's life.

 He told her she would regret it and she gave a dismissive growl. No, she would regret it if she let him succumb to his wastes and neglect. Even if her feelings confused her, he was her friend and she protected her friends. So she began washing him, ignoring the tastes that shifted from blood to dirt to urine and back. “What happened to you?” Her voice was soft, not necessarily a question that expected an answer. She cleaned his shredded pawpads, washing the blood that clung to his paws and forearms, the gash that could have undone him. Onwards to his bruises, his... other injuries, though with momentary hesitation.

 Despite the awkwardness, an infection especially there could prove fatal.

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His mind, while pulsating in pain, hadn't fully submitted to her yet. Frantic paws would lash out in a puppyish manner, tongue peeking from between his chattering teeth to lick below her chin. Like a newly born child to their mother, he whined at her. A melody so sickly sweet and desperate for her to touch him, tail thumping and tucked between his legs. He spoke to her in body language, through canine communication, quickly switching between wanting and not wanting, from needing and not receiving. He'd wished for this sort of contact for moons, only to snap his jaws at her the closer she got to starting.

It wasn't until she pressed her heat along his digits that he caved, melting into a puddle of big bubbling baby. With every lick upon his paws would he spread his little sore toe beans, tail nervously wagging betwixt his thighs as a sign of appreciation but also to hide what lurked below it. He wasn't a dullard despite the show he was causally performing for her, surely she could smell the infection, it was simply a matter of where. She hadn't reached it, no, so the prince sunk into her fingertips.

Why couldn't things stay like this forever? Just the two of them? It seemed as if he was the only one that cared for her, as she for him, though no words slipped between their quiet evenings to display that. ...That was very easily changeable. Not now though, not as he rolled around like a fool in front of her.

He somehow managed to end up on his back, legs sprawled in an ultimate act of comfort. At the least she knew he trusted her, why else would he expose his tender unders? He'd been so lost in luxury that he had no idea where her maw had slipped to, it hadn't even dawned on him what was happening when a familiar wet warmness crept in. A delightful throbbing of pleasure, the sensation of her upon his hardening flesh. It was the sounds of his own tail slapping against the wall that brought him to, rolling his head over to eye her calmly.

Until, that was, his nine-inch cock threatened to jab her in the eye and he in the gut. 

“Uhhh....” The dark pink mass rippled, still slinking its way out of his sheath. For a second he stopped to gaze at it with a 'is it done yet' expression. “Is... I... I don't know if I should say thank you or sorry.” Probably both. “You uh... You can stop now, Meissa... I mean...” He'd clamp his mouth shut before he said anything too... Risky.

—

 

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 He snapped and whined and twitched, trying to get away while at the same time, acting as if he wasn't sure what he wanted. Well, she'd have stopped and asked for consent when he snapped - but this was not sexual, not right now, not to her. She had to act the medic because the real medic was busy checking on that girl back there. She'd have to return for some sort of herbs, she decided, because some of these cuts looked nasty.

 By now, he was wagging his tail and allowing her access to the cuts and sores along his limbs.

 Her grooming continued, though she paused a moment mid-lick on one of his forelimbs to peer at his face and make sure he was still doing alright. Then she carried on, washing away the dirt and perhaps tiny pebbles caught up in his curly fur. Her nose had caught wind of infection and she sought it out, mind going blank except for the search of the smell. Here, in this fur, but deeper. She lapped at it, trying to reach the odor she could tell was hidden just beneath the fur -

 And then there was a massive pink thing in her face, angry red at portions. The smell of infection sent her eyes watering and she pulled back slightly, blinking the tears away until she realized what was happening.

 “Oh,” she said, on reflex, “Holy shit.”

 She had never been in such close presence to what had almost caught blinded her. She was still processing, staring at the thing, jaw slightly slack, when his voice broke her stare and she looked at him, jaw still open. It snapped shut and she shook her head clear, ears pinning back as she was flooded with embarrassment. If she didn't have fur covering her face, it would have been beet red. She looked from him to it, blinking as she fought to comprehend what she had inadvertently done.

 “It's-” she swallowed, trying to straighten out her head before she spoke, “It's got infected - I can, or you can, or -” Cutting herself off, she took a deep breath. “It's gotta be cleaned and probably have some medicine on it, too.” Otherwise, my dear boy, it was going to probably fall off. Or something. Was that what happened with infected... limbs? She'd heard of this, of course she had, but despite being a decent bit older than him, it had been all talk.

 Someone had to clean it and if it decided to do what it did, well, that was nature.

 The question of what the hell had happened to it was of course heavily on her mind but frankly, the sight of the, uh, "frank", was taking up a good deal more space in her current thoughts. So much so that the girl didn't even realize that her own pair of tails were wagging.

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“No, no, that, um, it won't be necessary!” In a flurry of brown furs was he suddenly up and standing, trembling lions fueled by agony, infection, and a third mysterious element that was shortly frothing its way through the den. The smell of lust was pungent, whether the two had experienced it or not, it was rather obvious... And he had been enlightened by it... Not like this, though. “You've already done quite enough, Meissa, I couldn't possibly ask that of you.” This desire was different, and it had taken him by the collar and slapped him around a bit until his eyes were clear of worry and overflowing with a sudden understanding.

He liked her.

He... Like-liked her.

The night troublesome paws had followed the white bitch witch, he hadn't been wanting to see her there. He'd been hoping to stumble upon Meissa, and in a fit of angry desperation had a mistake occurred that would possibly haunt him for the rest of his life. At least he had a failsafe, knowing that the women he thought of was stark snow in colouration. She wouldn't make it far if her dandruff-looking-ass attempted to find him here. But why had he wanted her so badly? It made sense, being that the mutt was in heat, but Meissa wasn't. It didn't make him want her any less.

“I... Wow.” He'd snort, standing with his legs in an awkward position as his... Member dangled directly beside her nose ring. What the hell did you do in this sort of situation? The Prince was an honest fellow and while he was clearly dumbfounded this was a bit too much for him to keep to himself. “Do you um... I... think I might like you.” Laughing, trying to take a step back but he'd ended up slipping and it sent his back legs directly into her chest. 

Holy fuck, had he just slapped her with his dick? He just slapped her with his dick. “Ah, my, m-my bloody wank--” Funny, it still hurt like hell though.

—

 

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 She hadn't really understood what she was offering, not really, even as he scrambled to his paws. Not until the smell hit her and she really understood it, like flipping a switch and setting the whole room alight. She leaned back to allow him space to move and stand, feeling a whirlwind of confusing emotions wherein embarrassment was not the smallest, nor the largest. She stared at him, still reeling over the sudden visitor and everything that was going on in her head or inside her own body.

 She was flustered.

 Who wouldn't be, with their crush's horse cock suddenly the main attraction when all she'd come in here to do was make sure he wasn't going to die? Well, maybe he was going to die - of embarrassment. Or maybe she was. Both of them, probably.

 His words reached her ears and she looked up at him, only for sudden movement to happen and the breath was knocked out of her chest by his paws slamming into her and then something else smacked into her face, sending her reeling back into a sitting position. That one had not been a paw. It took her a moment to clear her head, blinking rapidly as she fought to make sense of it all, before she realized again what had been said.

 “Me too - I mean, I - I think I like you too?” It hadn't meant to sound like a question but with the chaos going on, it was hard not to sound perfectly puzzled. She gave a nervous laugh, lifting a paw to rub at where her face had been hit.

 The fact that he'd accidentally gone and dick-slapped her was still making its way into her head.

 Even if he hadn't got an infected member, sex was not happening today. It wasn't that she didn't like him, for she realized she certainly did, but she just wasn't ready. The prospect had always been in the back of her mind but she'd never really had reason to think about it in actuality. Even when she had followed Eve, so in love with her that she couldn't help herself, it was different. After all, Eve wasn't a dude, so... there were no dicks to get slapped with.

 “Is it normal to slap the girl you like with your yelda — dick?” she said with another nervous laugh, this time raising an eyebrow almost cheekily. If she'd been human, she would have facepalmed at the dumb joke - instead, she just chuckled nervously and shook her head, eyes trailing to the ground - then spiking back up again suddenly as she realized that instead of the ground, they'd landed on his third - or rather, fifth - leg.

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Ya know, if it hadn't been for his throbbing tallywhacker nearly fragmenting her bottom lip, this moment could have been a romantic one. Contrary to popular belief, it was still romantic to him. For the first time in his sorry existence had he admitted to himself that he found attraction—pure, clean attraction—in someone that... Actually, held their own fondness for him? Or so she thought. Which sadly was still more than he'd dreamed of managing.

It was common for the young prince to be found romanticizing folk, but his eyes had perpetually sought out the wonder in everyone, everything. The very essence of it lingered about all that he did. Seeing beauty in simplicity, catching energy from those who saw themselves as nothing, turning their ideas of their body, their scars, their imperfections into overflowing love.

He'd felt a similar ping in his chest when he first glanced (if we're being honest, he stared) at Meissa. Not that she wasn't already perfect, because she wasn't. He knew she wasn't. The mighty she-beast was littered with oddities, her pelt, while not battle-bugged, was so heavily cursed that a blind man could see it.

But where she wasn't perfect to the world, she was perfect to him, and that made her his world.

“Um... I don't slap women in general, honest. Let alone the ones I fancy.” Meissa was enough for him, she had been since the moment they'd met. Who was he kidding, he'd almost knocked his own Queen to the ground with the wind coming off his tail. “So, uh, do you like...” Begrudgingly, the shaken prince would shift himself from her, glancing down at his pecker to give it a death glare as it slithered back into its cave... Slowly, but at least it was cleaner. “I mean, you already kissed it so I think it's only fair I return the offer—W-Wait, not like that, I mean, well, I could, just uh...” Scooting forward, the goofy child would plant a warm lick to the side of her muzzle.

It was... Short, sweet, but he went in for another. Then another. Then soon he had placed himself below her in an act of submission, rolling around upon his back in a fit of joyful whines and a few sleepy yawns. “How come I'm always so tired as soon as the night gets good?” It had been a pattern he was following recently, but this time he was protesting bedtime with a growl and a grunt.

—

 

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 This was a first too for the soldier. She had always been in the shadows, behind someone. A supporting actor. She had never been the lead, never the focus of anyone. The closest time that had ever chanced to happen was when... she remembered it now, faintly. A boy, asking her to run away with him. Her, refusing though she wanted so desperately to say yes. She had friends who needed her, hope that her parents would still find her. If she left, they would never be able to find her and bring her home.

 That stretch of time spanned years and they never came, only ever sending her adoptive uncle. Her loyalty had been misplaced. She wondered where she would be now if she had left with that white-furred boy.

 It didn't matter. Now, she had a blond boy before her, his eyes desperately on her. Here, where she was despised not only for her freak tail and thick snout, but also for the white along her coat, a familiar reminder of her mother... Her mother? She... yes, she had also been white. The boy before her, tripping over his words as they both struggled with each their own surprise and confusion and excitement. Her tails were wagging and she couldn't help but laugh as he spoke of kissing, blinking as she realized that yes, that was what happened. It was only after he moved closer and gave her a kiss upon her snout that she was able to breathe again properly.

 And then he was kissing her, rolling about and kissing her.

 She laughed, eyes glistening with joy as she began kissing him back, washing his cheeks and nose and muzzle and throat, tail wagging furiously. She belatedly hoped her tail wasn't knocking any of his knick knacks around but honestly even if she did, she was sure neither of them would care right now. She felt warm, tingling throughout her, shivering in her toes. A happiness she hadn't known before filled her and she pressed her face into his chest, whining softly.

 “Promise me,” she whined softly, “You won't just pretend this never happened, you won't just... find someone else, someone pretty, and forget about me” It was a desperate plea, a window into her insecurities.

 She lay down, her face still pressed into his curly mane, before lifting her head slightly and shifting it to peek up at him. A little smile played on her face. “I'm fine that we leave it here tonight,” she said nervously, turning her head to rub her cheek against his neck. “I'm... not ready for more than kisses anyway.”

 She gave a little self conscious laugh - she was older than him but the idea of... that somehow terrified her.

 She closed her eyes, ears pinning back in a pitiful way that did not become a wolf of her stature, “I want to just... not yet.” Not to mention he was far too injured to even risk trying.

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As she lay upon him, head tucked into the nook of his throat, sweet nothings that filled her mouth poured thickly from her tongue. Antlered ears effortlessly captured her woes, creasing neatly atop his head in a vow of vigilance. How many moments had they shared where she wept so sincerely to him—her battles, her hardships, her grief? It was a rare and tender glimpse into what their life had slowly become, and what their future would surely be.

Soft lips nestled their way to her temple, breathing in her scent as if he could take in her sorrow with the shallow breath that fluttered in his lungs. He'd listen, contemplate on her words and their meanings, and instead of feeling offended by her observation he clasped his paws around her waist, pulling her closer as he gently allowed their bodies to roll to the side—his winged back pressed along the cool stone wall, her spine being cuddled by his underbelly and chest.

“I know I can be a forgetful bugger, but I do believe it's hard to blur out the first time you fall in love.” Combing his muzzle between her ears, pushing his snout between them with a relaxed sigh. The prince was falling asleep, which was becoming a rather annoying occurrence for him. He highly doubted his princess cared, but he was trying to catch every word she spoke before collapsing into a pile of mush. “You must stop paying so close attention to what people say or think about you, jealous folk they are. You deserve to be called beautiful, you are beautiful.” He knew his sayings wouldn't mend her past wounds, but just as she treated his, he would care for hers.

Which brought up an entirely different subject on how she was acting at the thought of... Yeah. He understood. He hadn't outwardly asked, nor had he expected her to want him anyway. He was far too sick and their love was only just being established. He, too, wanted to wait. It would be more special that way. “Take all the time you need, I'm in no rush... Sex doesn't really... Fuel me like some. I couldn't care less, typically. I have my days, but... Well, you'll see.” He didn't want to frighten her, if the time came they could discover one another at the speed she needed.

“Love... Can you tell me a story? If not I think I'm just gonna fight sleep and cuddle for hours.” Snorting, grabbing a handful of her fur between his toes as a bit of sensory comfort.

—

 

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 His tenderness awoke memories, faint memories of her early childhood. The last time she had been held like this, just comforted, was so long ago she had forgotten what it felt like. That time had been wreathed in fear, pain, and confusion. Those moments of comfort were few and far in between, and then never. To be held and comforted like this, somewhere in her brain told her she should push him away, be strong by herself because she had to be for so long. Not show vulnerability.

 Another part of her craved this.

 The girl's breath was unsteady as he whispered his reassurances, holding her close. Her inhales caught in her throat, her exhales shuddered. She licked her lips, remaining silent for a time as he confessed love, though she nuzzled into him at the sound of that, a soft whine escaping her maw. The cynic within her scowled, chastised them for this. You're not in love, that niggling voice mocked, You hardly know each other. It's too early. You just think you're in love but love doesn't exist.

 She tried to stifle it, shove it deeper into her mind so she wouldn't risk voicing the voices of her past. Pressed her face into the ground, his neck, anything to force it away. She hated that voice but it had become part of her.

 His reassurances helped, spoke over that voice of distrust and cynicism within her. Who knew how long the voice would remain. Perhaps until her death. Given enough time and focus, maybe she would heal... just a little bit. Just enough to open the windows more, shake out the dust inside. She twisted her head to lick at his chin, a wordless thanks and acceptance of the compliments even though she couldn't clear her mind to think of a verbal response.

 Perhaps as her windows opened, his would too and he would be able to heal, just a little, too.

 His comforts continued into the next topic. As his words came, reassuring her that he would not be expecting anything of her and she would have time... the muscles she hadn't realizing had tightened along her back when he had pulled her against his belly slowly began to loosen. It was hesitant, but it was a start. Despite it, her tail still lay tucked down protectively between her legs - something she had not realized had even occurred. “Thank you,” she whispered. She didn't know when she would be ready but she suspected it would be long after he had healed from his injuries. She just wanted to say it now, at the very start, so their relationship wouldn't began with expectations she wasn't prepared to fulfill yet.

 Then his request, one she could fulfill.

 She nodded, exhaling deeply as she thought of what story she could tell. There were faint ones from her childhood, little ones she could hardly remember. Then there was the long, underlying one she felt within her though the details were foggy. “Once upon a time, very far away,” she began hesitantly. “There was a family of wolves. Papa and Mama and Uncle and Brother and Sister. Mama was gentle and kind, Papa and Uncle were strong and brave, Brother was fun and friendly.” She moved on, not bothering to describe Sister. “They were a happy family, Mama and Papa and Uncle all had good jobs together in their pack and they were trusted. The alphas, King and Queen, told them all sorts of things and asked them for help whenever they had problems. Brother and Sister always played together and sometimes with the other pups in the pack.”

 She considered where to move on. “One day, King and Queen left. They never told Papa or Mama or Uncle and they definitely didn't tell Brother or Sister. They left two Princes behind, too - one who was mean and nasty and the other one that was quiet but mostly nice.” Mostly, but not all the way. At least, that's what she'd thought. There were others too, the Princes' protector - a face she couldn't even remember - and others in the pack that played large roles but were far too complicated for a bedtime story. “That morning, Brother didn't wake up. Mama said Brother was sick, so he had to go someplace special with Papa. Papa came back with Uncle and then Mama, Papa, Sister, and Uncle went on an adventure to find a new home.” Her eyes traced the edges of the den, light filtering in from the afternoon sun. Thus completed the first, earliest chapter of her life.

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First, he would listen, second, he would evaluate her body language. A life with oneself, an existence full of beatings lead by misunderstandings, readied him for reading the words that were never spoken. He could tell she was shaken, regardless of his pisspoor attempts at consoling her; but that was alright, yes, yes. It was simply not possible to make a seed grow overnight. It took the right environment, a good amount of nurturing, a person to water it and keep it safe from the elements. The curly-headed boy was no gardener, but he'd embrace Meissa's thorns as long as he could in hopes of one day watching her blossom into the rose she was meant to be.

She muttered a thank you, “There's no need to thank me,” and he'd pull her in as close as his crippled limbs could muster. “We have all the time in the world to grow.” Or, as much as their faith allowed. Luckily he was a hopeful bloke, a silly fool some might suggest. This go around, it seemed, he was a fool for someone who wouldn't take advantage of it.

There hadn't been much to say as she spoke; listening with fascination, responding with the growth of his fading breath. Halfway through her story would he aim to remove her tail from between her legs, placing his own there as a sign of protection. He doubted she noticed she'd done it, but he'd picked up on it and had been waiting for it to unfurl. It was an old technique his da had used on him to help conquer fear, and despite his... Less than favourable methods, it had worked.

Sooner than later his lids slid to a close—humming softly, taking in her voice. He would drift off, comfortably. Darkened ears weren't sure when the princess had stopped her chapter, just as he didn't know that he was ever so softly suckling on hers.

—

 

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 Slowly, ever so slowly, tension left her. As his arms wrapped around her, pressing against her not in a sexual way but in a gentle embrace. A protective one, as if he could separate her from the world and keep her safe from it for but a night.

 As she told her story, the words escaping from her very heart, she felt him draw closer yet, his tail where hers were. He clung to her, separate but unified. One wolf, as misshapen and as so-called-cursed as they were. His breathing slowed behind her and eventually, she felt a tug against her ears. She slowed her retelling to a stop, turning her head ever so slightly to peer over at him.

 Sleep was clear upon his face, even as he suckled upon her ear.

 A smile drifted onto her face and she rested, allowing her muscles to loosen properly. Placing her head upon the ground but not too far to pull her ear from his grasp or even waken him, she watched the sunlight filter through the entrance until she, too, fell into a dreamless sleep. She finally felt safe, for the first time in a long time, in the embrace of someone who truly seemed to care for her, despite her shortcomings. Her story would continue another time, though she was sure she would need to retell some of it.

 Perhaps her real story could now continue.

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---

There was space.

Soft, oozing lights—soaring specs of dust like the kind that blurred your camera lens.

But mostly, there was nothingness. The same sweet deep black that came as his wings clipped the sun and he came spirling down like a nosediving plane. He didn't understand it nor did he reject it. It was damp, warm, dimly lit, and scented of a distant memory he couldn't quite place.

His mind roamed ever further, leaving his physical form a shallow carcass of lingering silence. Mouth ajar, heat escaping him. The boy entered a sleepless slumber, backpacked aginst his lover for an internal rest.

—

 

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Day One

 Sleep was sweet, the gentle embrace of Flynn keeping her secure. It was morning when she awoke, early morning air bringing fresh light to the world. She lay there, in the limp comfort of her lover, eyes half lidded. Her lover, wow. She had never been able to say that with honesty before. Yes, she had loved before, infatuated, obsessed - but she had never had someone hold her in this way. Even Eve, whose side she had been at for what felt like years...

 She sighed softly, turning over to lap at his cheek. He didn't stir, though his breath still drew in and out. He must be exhausted, she thought with a sleepy smile. Not wanting to disturb him, she had slipped from his grasp, the cold air atop her back where he had lain now frigid in the morning air. She moved the blanket of a pelt she had lain on, shifting it close so that it lay draped across him, covering most of where her body had been. The guard smiled, gave him a kiss upon his forehead, and left for the day.

❋ ❋ ❋

 That day, she did not see him.

 At their daily training with Remus, she had explained that he was asleep, recovering from the injuries from the Nightwalkers. Little did she knew what beating may or may not have occurred at the paws of the brown wolf himself. She'd gone on with her day, checking on the pregnant queen and taking up shifts there. As the day continued, she'd began to worry. Once her shift ended, she had gone home.

 He had not moved.

 He had messed upon himself.

 She tried to rouse him and he would not rise. He still breathed, his eyes still twitched beneath his eyelids in sleep, but he did not rise. Fear seized her and she had gone to retrieve Rosemary, who gave little answer but to wait and to keep him clean. She removed his mess as dogs do, finding a place outside to retch it away before returning, lying by his side and waiting. She learned that his body still worked and even as it seized at her heart to do so, she cleaned his infection.

---

Day Two

 The next day, he remained asleep.

 Desperately torn between duty and worry, she struggled. Asked Rosemary for assistance again, asked him to check on Flynn when he could. She was distracted during training, eyes flicking this way and that, waiting for either his shining, well rested face or the somber face of the Bonesaw. She saw neither, continued her tasks but checked on him whenever she could, cleaning the messes he made until there was nothing more within him to mess. Cleaned his infections, cursing them if they were the cause of this endless sleep.

 If anyone asked about his lack of presence despite his smell upon her, she would act cheerily, explaining that he was still recovering and she was caring for him in that time. She did not want the pity if she told any of their newfound love. She could not stand it if they knew and if he -

 She went to bed early, remained awake into the night.

---

Day Three

 Had she slept? She did not know.

 All she knew was she had to be cursed. The moment any wolf loved her, or claimed to love her, they died or were enslaved or ran away. This breathing death, this endless torment. How dare she even think she could be loved without some fate twisting away from her, some god laughing at her misery?

 She was frantic the next morning. She had dragged in a turtle shell, full of water, and she sat beside him, dipping her paw into the water and letting it drip into his slightly parted mouth. A soft whine escaped her lungs on each exhale as her shoulders shook with silent sobs, desperate for him to wake. He looked pitifully weak, despite being washed better than he had in months if not ever. She had washed him almost obsessively, trying to rouse him with each swipe of her tongue, each pull of a fur knot between her teeth.

 If Remus was waiting for her for training, he would need to wait longer. She had no energy to go to him, to do mindless exercises of mud-marching or fighting or anything else. She doubted she would have a moment to even go to him to apologize for skipping.

 “Dammit, Flynn,” she whispered, dipping her paw in the water again to try once more to wet his tongue, “Wake up. Don't you die on me.”

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---

        As far as he was concerned, there had always been two worlds. One for those who preferred to roam on dry soils, and the other where walking wasn’t even a required mode of transportation. He hated to sound like a sourpuss in his judgment, but it wasn’t as if it were a secret where he planted his feet from dusk till dawn. Albeit to most, it appeared he was indeed running straight into the sun; tail wavering, eyes ablaze with glory, a modern-day Icarus. To those who knew his kind, well, they sought better. The child had always put his heart first, and it was a silent oath he was destined to keep.
 

✸    ( past )    ✸

"Oddy," Teeth chatting, tail tucked, voice dry. The strain in his not-yet-deepened voice indicated a few things. One, he’d only just woken up from his spot messily wrapped around his brother. Two, he still wanted to be messily wrapped around his brother. But most importantly, three. Flynn was up, and when Flynn was up, the world followed closely behind. While this probably meant absolute horse shit to everyone else he’d ever met, Pod was a bit different. The older boy had never stopped to think about why, exactly, probably some brotherly-love matter he didn’t have time to ponder. All that mattered to him was that Pod was there to see him do what he’d been trying to for ages. Well, months. Weeks? Hell, he didn’t know.

He’d always dreamed of beating the world at its own race, and now, an entire hour before the sun began its stretch across the sky, Flynn found himself waddling back to the nest where they slept. “Wake up Dolly daydream, we’ve got a peak to see!” His voice might have been soft, but the headbutt he placed on his brother’s shoulder hadn’t been.

”We’re gonna miss it! The sun crawling over Kipcier Peak!” Certainly, a lovely location for two adolescents to get themselves killed, but it's not like anything was going to stop them. Not Flynn, anyway. Pod had always been a bit more inward-thinking than him, more hesitant. He'd tried everything he could to shake the bugger-of-a-personality off his siblings’ flesh but it slunk back up his spine much like the pup slunk himself. Pod might have been slow, but he was the fastest when it came to turning down a fun-filled day of adventure because that's exactly what this was. ”Come on, come on!” Bounding back to the cave entrance, head whipping around his shoulder one too many times, he impatiently waited for his brothers’ wake; flopping down as his eyes floating off to the shivering clouds.

It didn’t take long for dreams to seep in. Coating his thoughts with the ability of flight, sending him spiraling up in the heavens above. He moved his wings (and his paws) recklessly, hooting and hollering, swooping down to scare the forest creatures and only stopping to feel the sun’s warm glow along his muzzle. It was lovely up here! Hell, he could practically see the sun emerging over the peak already. The sun emerging over the peak already. ”THE SUN! POD!” Scrambling, claws clashing with the rock below his feet, Flynn rushed back to his sleeping kin, ramming his head under his rump in an attempt to push him onto his feet. ”My god your arse stinks!” Gagging, sneezing, but still pushing. Had Pod always been this bloody heavy? 

But Podrick didn't budge, his body was stiff, the way it felt to sleep on an uneven stone. ”Oh, come on, Pod! Da is going to be back soon and if we don't do it now, I know we's ain't evea gonna do it!” Sqeaukily he'd protest, finding that once more, his dream to touch the sun would have to be put on the backburner. Pod had always been a deep sleeper with his oh-so-special training and whatnot. ”Fine! We'll do it tomorrow, da will probably be home soon anyhow.” 

Flynn had been right, da did come home, but it wasn't until he'd fallen asleep. By the hour he had opened his eyes the sun was shining again, and that same overzealous emotion sprung his flimsy legs into the air. ”Pod! Pod! Come on, this time it's gonna be perfect! I can see it hasn't gotten there just yet! If we run real fast, if ya short legs can handle i-” Cutoff mid-laugh, ears dropping floppily to the sides of his head in some half-up, half-down manner. There sat his father, disappointed as ever. The sensation of excitement all but left him, finding his way over to sit by his da with an unimpressed 'humpf'. ”That's no fair, Pod isn't supposed to be training today... You said we could play today, da!" Slumping, a growl fluttering in him. ”He's outside, Flynn. Got up before you did this morning.”   ”Hogwash!”

There was no way Podrick had lifted before he did, the man had slept through a tornado just two weeks ago! Skittering outside, tripping over his own feet, he could see him. Pod had gotten all dirty, it looked like, probably from his silly exercises. Large paws waddled, tail lashing to and fro as he primed himself for the best moment to strike. Leaping towards the sun, wings full of song, Lynnie bounded atop his sibling, snarling and drooling and giggling as a child would. "Ha! Got ya good!" The tiny prince stood victorious, spitting out bits of fur. "Ya shoulda seen the look on your face, Pod! You look hoodwinke--AH!" A scream, one that split his throat raw with blood, filled young babbling eyes with April showers. "DAA! DADDY!"

His father had not come to comfort him. He hadn't come at all. His father was gone. Just like the last of his siblings. Taking the sun right along with them.

"Pod... Pod please wake up, please... Bubby... We're supposed to go see the sun together..."

 

✸    ( current )    ✸

His breath came slowly, a twitch of tongue, flick of dry lips. A caterwaul of heartbreak beckoned from his loose jowls, splintering whimpers igniting their empty bungalow with a bittersweet symphony. He roused, like a plank of wood or old muddied shoe, but dull eyes did open and when they did they wept grand tears large enough to make the sea envious. “Meissa, w-where did you go?” Still, through a kaleidoscope of droplets could he see her. “I-I called and I called and you didn't come back for me, I was so scared...” He reached out for her, collapsing into himself, into her, into everything. “Why did you go without me? I wanted to see the sun, I wanted to see it with you but you left me!” Hysterical, but alive.

He struggled momentarily to steady his breath, gazing up at her glory as the morning light capsized its way atop her crown. Through misty optics did she illuminate, the golden circlet that hung from his muzzle glowing like a star. Mouth ajar, vision blurred, he took her in. “You... Brought the sun... To me?” Perplextion, exhaustion, the feeling of sorrow and joy. For whatever reason, he had survived this painstaking journey within himself, believing he had gone in alone and came out with nothing. “You brought me the sun, didn't you, Pod?” Salty tears streamed to his chin, head bobbling itself to the feet of his lover as he closed his eyes once more.

This time, he was resting. Not in a coma, not sick or dying, not without the sun.

Meissa was the sun.

She was his sun.

Warm and bright and melting at the ridges of his heart, spreading her light to the dark parts of him he'd long since forgotten.

She had stayed. Like the giant warrior that brought everlasting heat. She stayed.

“You kinda smell like my arse.” 

Stinky, but there nevertheless.

—

 

---

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 In her paw went, into the shell. Water coated fur and out it went, raised over his paw, left resting mid-air. Drip. Drip. Drip.

 Wait.

 Her eyes, glazed and mournful, saw movement. She blinked the tears away, breath shuddering as hope blossomed. The noise he let out split her heart, made her lurch and whine. His eyes were opening and she moved in, lapping at the tears and crying, herself. “I was here,” she whispered, “I was here the whole time.” Well, except for when she wasn't, when she had to be up. Had to watch the Queen because she could not leave Remus with the work of three wolves, of the two other Guards. Her mind had been on him every moment she wasn't with him and she whined, not bothering to stifle it.

 She pressed into him, panting.

 He looked up at her, eyes alight in a way she had longed for since long before they went dark. She didn't understand, couldn't, but she wept, holding him close to her. He closed his eyes and she curled around him, pressing into him and nuzzling her head under his neck, “Don't leave me again,” she begged. Quieted, listening to his heart beat against her ear.

 He spoke again and it took a moment to register before she laughed, pulling back from under his neck to lap at his face again. “Well, I ought to - I've been cleaning it the last three days,” she said through her tearful laughter. The emotions curling throughout her were overwhelming. Relief, confusion, worry, joy, pain, excitement, and an overarching exhaustion.

 While he had slept for three days, she had hardly had a wink.

 “How are you feeling?” she asked softly, pressing her face into his neck and hoping he did not fall asleep again. Not yet, not so soon after he woke. Oh! “Water! Drink this!” She pulled back and grabbed the edge of the turtle shell, pulling it closer so he could reach it without having to move much.

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---

All at once was she atop of him, smothering him with butt-scented kisses, weeping of joy, of sadness, of emotions she likely thought she'd never feel. Through it all had he lain in contentment, leaning into every touch she had to offer, stretching into her body as she coiled around him in a big-spoon-like manner. There were... Relatively the same size, but he was far more flexible; curling into himself, adjusting his head as she brought herself under his throat. “I... Didn't mean to leave, I guess the beating did a number on me.” Saying no more and no less about it, sluggishly bringing his tongue across her left ear—which happened to be his favourite to suckle on, not that he knew.

As the shell of water was presented, he lapped slowly but with intensity. Gulp and gulp, quivering with each swallow. He drank until the bowl was cleaned, dragging his digit around in search of more. Not that he needed any, he didn't want her to have to clean up vomit, too. “How... Three days? I'm surprised you haven't buried me in the ground.” Laughing morbidly.

There was a pain along his body that had been replaced with... Nothingness. An agony that had last rested between his thighs and now suddenly it was gone. Had... She hadn't... His muzzle lowered, nose wiggling in the direction of his member as he noted the foul scent of infection was long since gone.

This woman had been giving him healing blowjobs for three days.

“On God?” He muttered to himself.

—

 

---

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 Had she any less clarity of mind, she might have actually smothered him with the intensity of her kisses and nuzzles, desperate to feel the resistance of wakefulness that had been replaced by limp sleep for three long days. Well, at least for part of the time he was limp. Parts of him had to not be limp during the cleaning process.

 “Beating?” she whispered, though she didn't know if he would even answer, even as his tongue draped over her ear and her eyes shut in a breath of bliss.

 She watched as he drank, wondering if she should get more as the bowl of the shell became dry as the day she had found it. She gave a little whine at his joke, shaking her head. “I couldn't give up on you.” It was also very clear that he was very much not dead. Her prayers - to what, exactly? - had been for him to wake, to return to her. She breathed a thank you - again, to what, she did not know - before she stilled.

 And watched.

 As he checked on his very clean manlihood.

 She could have died of embarrassment, leaning back and pressing her chin into her own throat fur. “I couldn't,” she started, then faltered, trying to think of something to make it not so despicable, what she had done in his sleep, “I couldn't let that magnificent -” ie. terrifying “- thing fall off.” Oh no, that did not make it better, not at all, she flopped back onto her rump, covering her face with her paws as she groaned inwardly. “Sorry, I know you were asleep and it's not cool, but you - it needed to be cleaned.”

 It hadn't been for pleasure, how could it have been?

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---

He'd squealed in laughter, she'd yanked herself back in some horror-laced embarrassment. If he wasn't as stiffened as a carcass, he'd probably be cackling on his back. He hadn't the energy for that though, just as he assumed she didn't either. “Practice makes perfect.” Okay, never mind, he was on his back cackling. He flailed around, trying to bring himself to his paws just so he could fall down and eat shit again. Was he suppose to thank her? How, exactly? The way she'd described it made it seem like it was her honourary job and she'd apparently done pretty bloody well.

He could laugh about it later though, it would make a horrible story to not tell their hypothetical children.

“How long have you been here, waiting? I know you mentioned three days, but... When have you rested? Why didn't you call for aid?” It had slipped his mind of the Queen's labour and if he had remembered it he doubted she'd need three medics to help her birth. Unless it had gone poorly, he presumed. “What all has happened since I... Fell asleep?”

—

 

---

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 He was laughing - well, that was a good sign. At least he wasn't horribly offended, or violated, or something like that. Still, she was embarrassed to hell and back, watching from within her fur as he cackled and flailed, trying to rise. Her ears pinned back and she moved towards him to help, but realized he wasn't hurt, just rolling in laughter.

 Well, it hadn't been the worst job...

 She tried a hesitant smile, encouraged by his joke. She'd had plenty of practice, not that he'd know, lost in the bliss of sleep as he'd been. Still, she felt bad about it though she kept telling herself it was fine.

 Meissa peered at him, chewing on her teeth. She ignored his question about rest, since she'd really not had a whole lot of it, and moved on to another of his questions, “I did call for help - Rosemary came, basically said there was nothing to do but keep you clean and wait it out.” She'd felt as if the blind man didn't quite believe Flynn would recover or just thought it'd be an afternoon of sleep, something like that. “Not much, really. Celnes is still pregnant, probably gonna pop in the next few days. I covered for your shifts watching her den. Training... I didn't tell Remus you were unconscious so you could save face once you did wake up, didn't tell Celnes either since I didn't want to worry her so close to birth.”

 She swallowed, then shrugged. Nothing much else really happened. Any moment she wasn't on duty, she'd been in the den, watching Flynn. She'd barely eaten, the worry too great to want to keep anything down.

 She decided the embarrassment was over for now so moved in closer to press her face into his neck, if he'd let her.

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---

Without any hesitation did the enervated chap embrace her, craning his elongated neck slightly to pull her in like the greedy child he was. He couldn't recall the last time he'd received affection like this, or affection at all. Typical modes of comfort came to him in the forms of backhanded compliments and the right to say he wasn't dead. To some, that was acceptable, but to him, he didn't want to be alive if he could say he'd gone a year or two without a decent cuddle. Thankfully, the fool was on the eve of turning three.

“Why don't you get some shut-eye then? I can keep watch this time.” Speaking half-heartedly, knowing damn well he wouldn't be able to keep his head up for much longer. How could sleep be so draining? “Hm... Puppies... I haven't crossed the bridge of having children until I saw how swollen with delight Celnes had become.” If 'delight' was the word for it. “It's funny, twins run in my family... I wonder if I had one and I... Just can't remember.” His sentences were fragmented, both from fatigue and his brain processing.

“I've never asked I don't believe, but what are your thoughts on children? Have we... Have we talked about this before?”

—

 

---

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 She pressed into him, inhaling deeply of the scent that had been her life for the past three days. She curled against him, pressing herself into his side and letting her jittery breaths slow and calm, tears long since stopped but breath still affected. “Maybe just a little bit...” she said softly, slowly, before he spoke again.

 Puppies?

 She opened her eyes, looking at the man. While the thought of the action, of the growth, of the birth frightened her, the idea of the outcome... Of watching little ones who looked a mix of she and he... well, that wasn't too bad. Terrifying still, in different ways. The terror of a parent, knowing you had to raise a child in a world that did not want them. But... He spoke of twins and her eyes trailed upon the ground, following the curves of the pelts and the way the rocks shone within the walls. “I had a twin,” she said, her voice quiet and thoughtful. Mournful? Her brother had been so young, so innocent, when life had stripped him away. She could remember the sensation of him against her at night, curled up alongside their mother, until...

 ...that morning, the coldness.

 Had Flynn been awake to hear her speak of him, of Brother?

 She licked his cheek, understanding completely the idea of not remembering. This place did strange things to memory, though she didn't think any of her memories since waking had that same blurred, ocean water effect. Perhaps it was all just from Before coming here that was muted, muffled, observed through a cracked mirror, through the separation of water and air.

 He asked further of her thoughts on children and she smiled. “A little, I think.” Gave a hum, thinking about what they might look like again, “I think I'd like some, some day. I always wanted them, always wondered if I'd get the chance to have them,” a little laugh escaped her lips. Then a pause.

 “What about you?”

 Hm. “Celnes and I talked a little about pups, that day you came to dance for us,” she said softly, remembering the way he had left so abruptly. “She gave her blessing, if I ever wanted them - it surprised me. With my white, I didn't think she'd want me to have pups here.” She supposed numbers outweighed a little cursed blood. Man, bigots made no sense. “She just wanted to be kept informed.”

 The queen would allow her to have pups, but with Flynn, who also was draped in white? Would she allow it, if she knew she had pure white in her ancestry?

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