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Arthur stood beneath the hot spray of luxurious water, the sensation a miracle to his tired muscles and tensed nerves. He could feel it all just melting away as he just stopped there, the cascade soaking his fur, running along the curves of his body, washing away the thick soap suds that smelt faintly of some floral concoction. It didn't really matter what the fragrance was, all that Arthur cared for was that he was clean and safe, for the time being.

Tyson had said he'd delay Cheryl as best he could, though that plan seemed to entail the Rottweiler lying to his superior about moving Arthur back to his cell for the night so that they could deal with him the next morning. The Labrador wasn't thrilled with the idea, as he'd rather have had Tyson keep guard at the precinct and make sure to be by the sheriff's side when she inevitably finally discovered the canine had escaped. But it seemed the big oaf couldn't bear to be apart from him any longer than they'd already endured, and to him his ploy seemed fool-proof, buying them enough time supposedly until daybreak. Time, in Tyson's head, for food, showering, sleeping, and spending the last few moments of solitude together before it all went to hell and they officially became fugitives together. Arthur couldn't blame the Rottweiler, even if he could see the blatant flaws in his plan. He felt much safer and warmer just knowing the man was close by in case anything went wrong. It was silly really, to be so attached to someone he'd known for barely more than forty-eight hours, but Tyson was his only lifeline in the nightmare of the world, and he was in no mood to lose that to anything or anyone.

He ran his paws through the sodden coat of his fur, wiping away whatever grime still lingered as he felt himself shedding what weighed him down like a second skin. It was as if he were washing away all the troubles in dark water, letting the moment's reprieve give him a chance just to expel every last horrible thought and feeling before he'd have to plunge right back into things again. But for as much as he tried to pull his mind away from the demons that troubled him, he couldn't shake the fact that Grant and he were alike; they had both seen the same hallucination. Even if it was that, Arthur supposed, what did it mean? A connected irrational couldn't possibly be shared between them. Where had it come from and why were only they seeing it? It made little sense, but the Labrador felt determined to know. He had to know. If only to clear his name and save himself from some isolated punishment, he just had to prove that he wasn't crazy and that his fears were well founded.

As Arthur ran his fingers through his fur, he suddenly felt the paw of another softly place itself over his, just at the waist. The door to the shower cubicle clicked shut as a physical presence stepped up inside, the light immediately dimming as a shadow loomed over him, and the sound of gentle, albeit heavy breathing brushing the top of his head. Arthur stayed still, perfectly so, as this intruder came up behind him, a second paw now snaking around his body and pulling at his stomach, drawing his torso back into this prowler. The tenderness of the touches, almost gingerly afraid that their owner might break something, and the soft heat were enough of a giveaway for Arthur to know exactly who it was as he basked in the familiar smell of the Rottweiler's being. Frankly he wasn't surprised, they were the only ones in the house and had it been anyone else Arthur would have been greatly astonished if they'd snuck up behind him so seductively. Besides, he'd half expected Tyson to have made a move at some point, considering the nightmare they'd been through so far. One could only go for so long without the reassuring contact of intimacy with someone close - even if that someone was a man you'd only known for so long. But they shared an understanding, and were paving the way for the rest of their trust to be built upon honesty. Arthur was certain he would make the most of that later.

For now, as he felt himself become enshrouded with the thick arms of a man nearly twice his size, there were more pressing matters he'd rather attend to. Arthur leant back into the embrace with closed eyes, a surprisingly heavier sigh than he'd expected escaping his lips as he tilted his head back. He nestled against the soft crevice between Tyson's pectorals, the heat of his bosom hotter than the water that showered around them. The thrum of his heart was gentle to the Labrador's ears, but unmistakably there. It only gave reason to assume that this world, whatever it may be or wherever it was, was indeed real, as the canine couldn't allow himself to consider that the dead would be allowed to upkeep a pulse. It was the only symbol left, if anything, that gave credence to the image of being alive. It quelled Arthur's hope to ever think that everything he felt, the patter of water through his fur, the tender fingers roaming his torso and the warming presence taking hold of him, was all just some nasty joke and a conjured illusion of his dying brain. A last comfort in a storm, a dimming light amidst a nightmare: he couldn't accept it.

Tyson simply held the Labrador as they stood together in the stream of water, their bodies soaking and their fur matted and sodden. It was an unspoken fact, but both of them were beyond tired. Arthur had spent the day stressed, panicked, and on edge as he had attempted to prove his innocence, attempted to make sense of the world, whilst the Rottweiler was merely relieved his companion had not, after all, killed himself. Though, Arthur admitted to himself, that's what he liked to believe the Rottweiler was thinking. For all he knew however everything could be the exact opposite; Tyson still felt guilty he had supposedly inadvertently pushed the Labrador over the brink, and that he felt angry now that he got to confront the man on his suicide. It was such a dangerous position to be in, Arthur knew, to not understand or know what another is thinking, though such was the nature of man. He wished he could just take an insight into the warm behemoth that stood cradling him like a lost teddy, holding him close and never daring, it felt, to ever let go again. It was natural, he supposed. Tyson was still mourning the loss of somebody he'd opened up to, someone he had been intimate with in what Arthur reasoned may very well have been an exceedingly long time. He couldn't place his finger on it but the Rottweiler felt like as much a lost as he did himself. The chance of them finding one another was near enough a last resort, a grasp at something real. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to assure the dog that everything he was thinking was wrong, but he had nothing to prove his case, nothing to back up his claims. He felt powerless in the most vulnerable way. He couldn't think of a justified way Tyson could trust him again.

If it weren't for his resolve to stay strong for the sake of surviving whatever ordeals now awaited him, Arthur was sure he might very well have just buckled there and then, conceding to the reality that he was in far deeper than he cared to admit, convinced of a fantasy that he had next to little evidence to prove existed. There was nothing logical to the course of events, from waking up on the station platform to seeing voids of black scrawled with messages he couldn't quite understand. Madness was indeed becoming more and more the natural conclusion to reach, for anything seemed just too absurd to even contemplate. But Arthur didn't feel mad, he felt entirely in control of himself, even if the world slipped away from him with each passing second. He possessed all his faculties, every sense of his was in perfect tune, he could speak his mind though it may not be heard and he could move as he wished though others might restrict him. Though was this all a delusion of his confused brain, imposing a vision of himself under perfect sanity whilst those around him sought to dismantle the fanaticism. What then did that make Tyson? His conscience, a reprieve from the madness? Or was he someone equally deluded as he, trapped in the same headspace the Labrador occupied. Did Arthur dream of the touch of the Rottweiler's bristled fur against his pads or were they very real? Was the smell of the male's sweat a lie to his sinuses or was the musk genuinely sinking into his mind? He wanted, if anything, for it to be true, that out of it all Tyson was real, even if their relationship, whatever it might have been, was shattered. So long as what had happened between them was real, Arthur could live with that.

But that notion posed a different question. If this wasn't madness, was it death? He'd already considered the possibility before, but had dismissed the thought as ludicrous, but really who was he to say he was alive and well? The circumstances were more than a little bizarre, his experiences had since shaped up from weird to frankly insane, and he was no closer to understanding the world of Haven Falls or why he was miraculously there, along with any of the other townsfolk. Cheryl and Tyson had both told him he had committed suicide in this realm, but what if that was a dying mind's guilt reaching out, constructing a fantasy to make sense of his death. Had Arthur killed himself and forgotten in the last seconds of his life, just like when he had awoken for the first time upon the platform, dazed and confused? Arthur supposed then it might be a question of how he had killed himself, if not 'if'. Assuming it wasn't some tragic immediate thing, the Labrador knew with worryingly stark authority that the brain could survive without oxygen for a good few minutes, without too much lasting damage. He made the judgement that time would pass longer to his own perception, but he couldn't stop time itself. So how long had he been out for? How long had it been since he'd stopped breathing? The point of him reappearing upon the platform could mark a minute having passed by, a frantic warning to his consciousness that he should wake now or suffer brain damage.

"Arthur."

Broken from his bitter reverie, the Labrador turned his head, looking over his shoulder at the Rottweiler who had a concerned expression pasted across his face.

"Sorry..." he said, not quite sure what to say. He still didn't know what to say, not even after the bigger dog had given him the sorely needed second chance. What was there even to say? What sort of case would he want to make even if there is one? All his fractured thoughts were solely based upon the singular thought that something was wrong and that he alone could fix it.

"I'm worried about you."

"Don't, I'm fine." Even he didn't believe himself. It was no surprise then that the Rottweiler frowned,

"Sure, because right now you're a supposed suicidal fugitive bordering on what is arguably clinical sanity," the sarcasm was practically dripping from his words, oozing between every syllable, "Everything's peachy."

Arthur turned around, manoeuvring in the close quarters of the cubicle so that he could be facing Tyson. He had to tilt his head back to meet the gaze of the other, but at least then he could see the dog's face properly. There was something sombre about his expression, and granted the circumstances Arthur didn't need to think too hard about why, but it was something pitiful or fearful behind his eyes and etched across his visage. It was something remorseful. It was as if the dog had some swelling secret inside him that the Labrador wagered even he didn't realise it himself, though it lingered in his heart until it had corrupted every sense. He'd felt it the very moment he'd woken up and he would take a guess that everyone in this town could feel it too, if they were truly honest with themselves. It was a hidden feeling of entrapment and finality, like it was the end of the line.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know..." Tyson trailed off, his words softly spoken as they brushed past his mumbling lips. His eyes kept staring into Arthur's infatuated it seemed by his iris and pupils, "Tell me something I want to hear. Give me something to trust you, or at least begin to."

Should he tell him that Arthur believed that behind Grant's words of madness was some semblance of truth; that his ramblings about being trapped were true because of that undeniable feeling that burned a hole in his stomach whenever he tried to focus on it? It would surely just prove his insanity to the Rottweiler, but he couldn't lie either. He could tell him that everything was going to be okay, or that Arthur had a plan. He could tell him plenty of things but the Labrador knew it wouldn't make a difference unless he proved in some small way to the Rottweiler that sacrificing his position on the force, betraying the people he'd sworn to protect by harbouring a supposed madman hell-bent on killing himself, was a justified and reasonable thing to do. Back at the mansion, at that split second decision the dog had had, he had acted upon impulse and feeling alone, whether that feeling was found in his brain, gut, or heart Arthur couldn't really know, but he believe he was faced with the same decision now himself. To act with logic, with instinct, or with emotion, that was the challenge, and so far he had only ever chosen the former to make his way in this strange world.

If there was anything then that he was convinced of in this confused reality, it would be one thing.

"I love you." The words came tumbling out before he'd even realised he'd made them, like they'd already been painted across his tongue and had been teetering upon the point of release. It felt so natural to say, too. The dog was fairly sure in himself that he'd never said them to anyone before, never with any such true feeling behind them, but now it was if he'd just opened a floodgate of constrained passion he'd held back for some reason. Now he felt free, giddy almost with a drunken feeling beneath it all, as excitement rushed his body swiftly followed by a burst of panic. Tyson could very well disagree. His feelings might not match the Labrador's own. After all, they'd only known each other for just a brief period, was Arthur just getting swept up in desperation to latch onto someone who provided him an anchor. Had he let his feelings get the better of him?

Oh Gods, what had he done?

There was movement, subtle but quick, and Arthur's train of thought came to a crashing standstill as he felt one hot mouth plant itself to his own. His muzzle opened instinctively to the guest, his lips parting as he submitted to the kiss. Tyson's face was so very close to his own, head titled to the side as his tongue approached Arthur's, begging an audience. It was such a tender moment, Arthur's chest heaving as adrenaline began to surge. He felt relieved though, more than anything, like a light was shining down on him in that cramped space between himself and Tyson, where he could be forgiven. He could see a future where Tyson believed him, and could convince him of the truth, whatever that might be. To just have the Rottweiler's faith again, however loyal it was, was a miracle to the Labrador. The kiss was emboldened as Arthur moved back against Tyson, arms sliding across his soaked fur and embracing his gargantuan chest. Bigger arms cradled around him, bringing him even closer, if it were possible, as they melted into one another's bodies beneath the steaming jets. Arthur could feel a frightened hunger behind Tyson, something that made the kiss seem so real whilst deeply scared, like he had been up to this point so afraid of the other reality that very well could have been, where all his beliefs and trust in Arthur had been misplace and the Labrador was indeed succumbing to erratic madness. He couldn't blame him, because if he was frank he had felt just as petrified. The consequences were something he never wanted to consider. A world without Tyson by his side was not a world he wanted to be in.

Between their greedy smothered lips, words would escape, half-formed sentences and the frantic thoughts that they'd longed to get out but couldn't came forth, breaching the quiet roar of the shower,

"I had thought I'd lost you."

"I didn't want to believe you were gone."

"I want you."

"It was hell without you."

"I need you."

Everything felt so very pure, to Arthur. The very first night he'd spent here, the night he had spent with Arthur, had been motivated by a desire for comfort and placement in the world. Tyson had been the provider of support to the dog when his world was dizzying and overwhelming. But this moment was different, because nothing was the function of purpose. Their words didn't come from a place of clinical need, but a realm of the heart that was a yearning desire for completion. Sex did not factor into the equation, perhaps not overtly; communion was not an obligation or a goal. The two of them simply stood there, tripping over one another, feasting upon the other's essence, imprinting the forgotten memory of themselves together from a time they had both thought they'd lost in one aspect or another. It very nearly did have Arthur bawling because if anything in Haven Falls, it was Tyson who served as the foundation. Without him, it was a nightmare incarnate. Even if everything he concluded was true, whether this was death, limbo, purgatory, or some bizarre coma or turn of insanity, at the very least Tyson was the reprieve to it all.

Eventually, like all things must, the kiss came to an end, but Tyson still held on to Arthur. His paws cupped the cheeks of his face and held his head within his grasp, as if it were as fragile as an egg or made out of the finest glass that threatened to crack in the slightest move. He stared deep into the Labrador's eyes, so many feelings running behind them that it was beautiful to watch them flit about as they scoped the features of his face.

"I don't ever want to lose you like that again." Arthur knew very well what he meant - in every sense.

"I promise you won't," was Arthur's immediate reply, "I don't want to leave you."

A soft smile formed on Tyson's mouth, his expression finally losing that worried quality, though not entirely, but enough for the Labrador to see that things were mending. Tyson leant in for one last kiss, a chaste press of his lips to Arthur's, before he pulled the dog's head to his chest and snared him in a proper hug, the grip tight as he held the Labrador close to his dripping body, their wet fur mingling beneath the stream. Words were becoming meaningless and actions proving more effective than anything else, not because they had lost their power but that the emotion was so raw and genuine that the two of them were transcending the need to speak, or at least that's how Arthur felt.

Arousal however was a welcome friend as their emotional turbulence subsided. Whilst their embrace was full of love, Arthur could feel himself give in to the need, just as he was convinced Tyson was too. As their bodies pressed together, the Rottweiler's scent bathing him and his heat was closing in around him; Arthur began to picture their bodies more than just beside one another. He could see them intertwined, limbs lapsed against one another's, flesh opening to flesh, moans giving rise to grunts, seed spilling forth as ecstasy was reached. It was true when he had said he wanted Tyson, that he had needed him. It was true in the most intimate sense, divulging down into the raw physicality they'd shared that Arthur could only think about now. It invaded his thoughts, until the only thing his mind wanted to conjure was the sight of the Rottweiler over him, inside him, claiming him.

"Tyson..." He breathed with his voice heady and quaking, practically bursting with wild need. There was an almost immediate response from the bigger canine, as if the Rottweiler was acting on instinct, as his body move to take Arthur's,

"I know."

Tyson was getting hard; Arthur could feel it pressing against his stomach. The dog's height over him meant that his crotch was rubbing up to his abdomen, the heavy orbs and fattening sheath giving a great weight to Arthur's belly. He moved his paws back around to the front, slipping them between their trapped bodies, and he felt for their familiar, hefty presence. Already the Rottweiler's length was pushing free and out into the humid air of the cubicle, the dark flesh rushing up to meet the Labrador's reaching fingers. As he made for a grasp he could feel Tyson's body tense, their bodies finally joining in the intimate way they'd denied themselves of. The fears of consequence and repercussions were assuaged, maybe only temporarily, but it was enough to just feel the splendid satisfaction of being one another's again. Arthur held firm of the dog's shaft and began to stroke Tyson, coaxing more from the bigger male as lust began to take over.

Whilst his paws were busy with the softly thrusting member between his digits, Tyson made his own plans; he roamed downwards across the agile form of the Labrador's back. His paws sank to the canine's buttocks, kneading the cushioned globes whilst he sighed airlessly, his cock throbbing into Arthur's grasp. The Labrador was panting too, his body reflexively moving into Tyson's as groping paws prised apart his cheeks. He felt vulnerable, but in a way he very much wanted. He longed to feel himself exposed by the Rottweiler, even as he felt needy, ravenous fingers toy with the very edges of his hole hidden within his golden rump. His tail was flagged up obediently regardless, giving Tyson all the permission he needed to gently probe and push at Arthur's entrance.

He let the warm water and remnants of soap ease his passage as he pressed one finger in to the canine's pliable hole. Arthur let off a strangled groan as he felt Tyson enter him, his forehead matted against the bigger male's chest as he leant all his weight onto the dog. His legs were weak - he'd never done this standing before - and his body trembling even as he gave in to the sensations the Rottweiler delivered him. The member beneath his fingers was straining hard against him, fat and meaty now and raring for conquest. Arthur could only ease his paw across its swollen length, massaging the bloated knot and tracing the bulging veins, as Tyson opened him up.

Naturally sex was inevitable between the two of them, the act becoming a convergence between the emotion and the physical, it conveyed so much more than what either of them could say, and though the moment was becoming tainted by lust, it was by no means less significant to either of them. Arthur stood there, held to Tyson's build, as the man consumed his body. It was a submission to the desire, a declaration of service from one to another that no words could have ever done justice to. The Labrador felt his heart fluttering as if he were dancing on air, two fingers working his hole, or perhaps it was three. It didn't matter, only that it was Tyson's paw making the claim. He felt wide for the dog, letting him rove deep and without restraint, and it took him on a crescendo of sensation where he surged upwards, alive in the arms of his mate. Maybe the feeling was the same with Tyson, that with his treasured possession under his grasp finally once again he swelled with anxious want and wild excitement. Arthur didn't feel that it was an overwhelming sensation though, not one that clouded his mind and filled it with burning haze. Rather it was clarity, a higher thinking that afforded him the chance to focus on one thing alone. He could feel Tyson's heartbeat pattering in his chest, just as his thundered in his ears and he could smell the dog all around him. The paws holding him close, the fingers entering his rear, the pulsing cock that ground between them in his own grip, it was a powerful scene and wholesome in Arthur's mind. If he had opened the floodgates earlier then now the deluge had become a settling ocean, and they were drifting together across the expanse of water as it lulled them into a sloppy slumber.

Arthur could almost very well feel the water surrounding them, cascading in chaos against their coats, filling the very air between them until it felt like they couldn't get any closer. Nearly suffocating...

He was turned around, the Rottweiler taking control of the situation, but Arthur felt light-headed. But his voice failed him as he braced himself against the glass of the cubicle wall, Tyson bending him over at the hip and edging his stance wider apart. More fingers seemed to be groping at his hole, more than he could think, as they squeezed and moulded at his entrance to open him up for the angry length he knew the dog wielded that very much wanted to plant its home in his ass. Arthur was panting hard, his chest constricted, as the feeling coalesced into reality. Looking forwards, staring into his own foggy half-reflection in the misted glass, he closed his eyes to breath, only to then open them.

Blackness had consumed the world beyond the shower.

It was nothing like Arthur had ever seen before. Or rather, nothing he had ever felt before. Any of his visions had always been alone, always without external stimulus, and never had they felt so invasive. Not the fingers at his hole, but the icy tendrils that seemed to crawl under his skin, an itch at the back of his neck and all his instincts ringing at once. There was nothing he could do though, voice cut to silence, Tyson still behind him, but dissolving to a faint sensation of presence and nothing more; all he could do was stare straight ahead and await what new messages lurked in the dark.

Emergency: abnormal heartrate beyond acceptable parameters.

Activating countermeasures...

Protocol upsilon69 engaging.

Recalibrating containment.

Though Arthur couldn't move, as much as he wanted to, as much as he even wanted to turn around and prove to Tyson his visions were real, he couldn't. His mind floated and disappeared altogether as he couldn't help but stare straight at the green text that spoke gibberish to him that he thought he knew. The sensation of his ass being opened was still there, but numbed, like everything was being placed on pause and the world frozen all around him. Only the feeling of showering water on his back had stopped, but he still felt wet. He felt beyond drenched.

That was the point he realised the water was no longer draining down the plughole. Instead it seemed to collect, to build and then ultimately to rise. The level crept up the side of the cubicle and didn't spill between the cracks of the door. It climbed and climbed until Arthur could feel it seeping up his legs, thicker than water ought to be and warm, an uncomfortable lukewarm temperature that had a sickly feel to it. In seconds it had crawled up his body, encompassed his legs and it climbed until it was at his chin. Panic seized him finally, as he realised soon he wouldn't be able to breathe, that he'd drown in his own insanity in a shower with Tyson trying to break him out of his mindless death on the floor of the shower.

The liquid, murkier than water, and a shade of green, swallowed him whole as it peeled up his face ever so slowly. First his mouth went, and then his nose as he struggled with his last snorts of air, eyes wide and terrified, before his ears sucked up into muffled silence and finally his eyes sank below the waterline. His fur became weightless as it drifted about in the dark expanse, the floor and walls of the cubicle seeming to fade away until before Arthur could register that they'd gone entirely, leaving him alone and adrift in this watery cage in the abyss. He ought to be fighting right now, he reckoned, but his body refused to act, his brain was addled. He was just a passenger along for the ride, an observer to his slow drowning as he felt his body begin to shut down.

Optimal levels reached.

Disengaging countermeasures...

V/ drive rebooting.

There was a rushing sensation, almost like falling, something that Arthur could only describe to himself as a feeling akin to that of waking up from sleep abruptly, the body moving to meet its right place. Everything changed before Arthur, all too quickly and all in the darkness.

Then, in the blink of an eye, it was all literally gone.

He was back in the shower, back with Tyson, back in the world of Haven Falls, and it was as if nothing had been any different. Tyson was stood behind him, one paw on the Labrador's hip, the physical touch so comforting to the dog to feel grounded once again in reality, but the other sensation of something hot and wet at his hole. He felt the probing tip of the Rottweiler's cock at his entrance, and Tyson ready to plunder his ass.

It was all too much though. The vision, the water, the disconnection of it all; panic burst out again finally as Arthur acted, pushing himself away from the Rottweiler hastily, throwing the cubicle door wide and lunging out. He scrambled along the bathroom floor, sopping wet and spreading water everywhere, as he clawed his way away from the shower, looking back in terrified horror.

"Arthur!" The cry was many things, wounded and worried, but altogether just surprised. He towered over the Labrador as Arthur looked back at him through the frame of the shower door from his place upon the floor, now scooted so far back that he was pressed up against the far wall. His chest heaved with ragged breath, his eyes wide with shock, and his body curling up into itself on some defensive form.

"It was... Did you see? I mean..." He failed to utter anything coherent. His voice was back, croaky and unsure, but at least he could talk once more. But what could he say? How could he in any rational sense describe the very thing he'd just witnessed? Never before had his visions ever had any real impact on him physically. They had been just hallucinations, things to be seen and observed, never acted upon or engaged with. Even in his dream, the vision had just left him harmlessly suspended, but there and then it had consumed him and violated him. He would dare to even argue that it had attacked him, had he not urged himself to take a more realistic frame to his thinking. But it _had_done something. It had done something very unusual and deeply troubling.

"Was it something I did?" Guilt was rank in Tyson's tone as he clambered from the shower, kneeling down to tend to the Labrador, "Oh fuck, I'm so sorry Arthur, I didn't mean to hurt you, I'm so sorry." He babbled the words over and over until his throat ran dry and cracked with real misery. It was clear he wanted to touch and hold the Labrador, but something held him back, a fear that now blackened his face. He felt guilty, Arthur realised, of violating him, of raping him. It couldn't be further from the truth. Seeing the Rottweiler so broken before him was a new torture unto itself, as tears began to bubble forth and Arthur found himself hurling forwards, arms outstretched and closing around the bigger dog in desperation. He wanted the nightmare to end. He wanted Tyson to take him away from the nightmare.

"No, it wasn't you. It's me. Something's wrong..." Arthur whimpered, "Please... I love you. Don't leave me."

They sobbed into one another's arms upon the floor, dripping wet and shaking in the cold.

~ ~ ~

Arthur needed a distraction. Something, arguably anything, to draw his mind away from the nightmare that was now beginning to haunt his every waking minute, regardless now of whether he was alone or not. It had taken time to convince the Rottweiler he was fine, that it was just a nervous panic that had overcome him with the gravity of the situation finally dawning on him, but he knew he hadn't bought it. The bigger dog had merely conceded that Arthur wasn't prepared to tell him the truth just yet, only deepening the rift that still sat between them, but the Labrador could deal with it later. It would take too long, too much energy, to explain everything. They were at the boiling point with an inevitable eruption, but Arthur didn't want to face it, not yet.

They lay together upon the bed naked, Arthur held in the crook of Tyson's arm, their bodies long since dry. The Labrador felt as if he was in a deep trance, near sleep-like but still aware of his surroundings. It had taken a long time to convince the Rottweiler he wasn't at fault, just as it had been an equal ordeal for the Rottweiler to calm Arthur's flustered heart and get him at rest. It felt like an age, for both of them he was sure, of them just lying there, tenderly being in the other's embrace and daring never to let go or move in fear it might be over. It was like a child refusing to relinquish its grasp of its favourite teddy, the two of them clung together as a comfort. It was the only real thing to Arthur anymore, the Rottweiler's presence. He had put his head to the man's chest again and just listened to his heart, the rumbling thump and beat against his ribcage as they lay upon the bed. The rise and fall of the dog's chest had been like settling on waves again, but the imagery of water was becoming traumatic to Arthur and he forced himself to turn elsewhere. He let his fingers wander, his paw grooming across Tyson's body, as he memorised and traced every little detail he could. The fleshy, furry world of the dog's build was something he could focus on that gave him escape from the painful vision.

He could just lose himself in this moment. He could breathe deeply, let the Rottweiler's smell imprint on his brain, forget everything else for a little while and just cherish the few seconds where things didn't have to be complicated. The thunder of Tyson's heartbeat, rhythmic and steady, drummed in Arthur's ear as he listened quietly, drawing his fingers to and fro across the canine's chest. Wet fur had dried fluffy in the mild desert heat fought away with the home's air conditioner. There was an unmistakable humidity in the air despite everything, the signs of some oncoming storm, but all Arthur could focus on was the sweltering warmth of the Rottweiler's torso pressed close to his own.

He might not get another chance to... not with the way the storm seemed to be brewing.

Lifting his head, he looked up, the small movement catching Tyson's attention who returned his gaze. No words were said, none needed to be, as Arthur pulled his head up and put his lips to the Rottweiler's own. He felt the hot breath escape the dog's lungs as their muzzles parted and tongues reunited after being so rudely interrupted before. The taste of him was intoxicating, like an additive or a drug that swept away any notion of some other importance. Nothing else mattered so long as Arthur's senses were drenched in the canine, instinct speaking before rationality as he shuffled up closer, as close as he could physically be, until they were practically ensnared in each other. Chaste kisses turned hungrier, Tyson growing bolder by the second as lust screamed above logic. It was one of the few moments, Arthur was beginning to find, where there was respite from his brain, a chance to turn off the switch that wrought paranoia and fear and to just lose himself to some carnal part that existed within him. A part, it seemed, only Tyson could tap in to.

It was not to last however, not indefinitely, despite how much the Labrador could have savoured the connection. But beyond it, there was something primal that wanted to be claimed once more by an alpha. It was almost like an intense itch in the back of his skull, something hot and fleshy that crawled under his skin and corrupted every nerve, willing him to act on his urges. It was a fight not worth even considering resisting, not with their naked bodies pressed so closely together, not with the scent in the air becoming steadily drowned in musk. Arthur could already smell the Rottweiler, despite the shower they'd shared, as the familiar stench of his arousal began to fill the room. His paw roamed down for the dog's chest, following the crevice of his pectorals and down towards the abdomen until fingers fell upon that fat sheath. Already he could feel the dog's pulse pumping blood into the monster that lay hidden within. Arthur could only assume he was still pent up from having been denied earlier, when all signs had pointed towards what seemed like an inevitable moment between the two of them, and in some ways he felt not so much obliged but indebted to the dog. Tyson had shown so much restraint until now, so much well placed concern and devotion that it was unfair to keep prolonging it.

As they continued to kiss, Arthur's fingertips scoped out the Rottweiler's sheath and balls, rolling those heavy orbs within his palm, cupping the sack before stroking up towards the sheath's opening; only the fleeting touch of wetness to his digits signified that Tyson was getting harder, his tip of flesh poking out, gradually growing until the sheath began to slide back to reveal his dark meat. His breath was hardening, shorter and heavier as anticipation in him rose and the sound reverberated through the dog's muzzle and into Arthur's. It was infectious, the Labrador soon finding himself equally breathless and heady as his paw finally wrapped around the swelling shaft of the bigger canine. Hot flesh throbbed beneath his grip, already damp with pre, slippery to the touch and pumping harder and harder into him. His own member swelled within his sheath, moaning ever so softly against the Rottweiler's lips as he was beginning to slip away into his arousal.

The kiss was broken off, perhaps not for good Arthur mused, but for now at least. He slid down the Rottweiler's body though, puckering the dog's chest and stomach with delicate lips until he came between the trunks of outspread legs. Tyson shifted himself up the bed a little, propping up so that he could look down his sculpted form as the Labrador came face to face with the dog's member. Taking both his paws, Arthur did his best to grapple the cock as it thickened to its fullest length, but he knew damn well that it wasn't a possible feat. He could barely encircle the dog at full girth, the wet meat of his dick aching with a rigid firmness as careful fingers deftly wrapped around what little they could. Tyson let off a pent-up sigh, his head lolling back and his shoulders rolling as Arthur gave the shaft a tentative stroke, slow and steady up to the head before sliding back down and greasing the way with the pre-cum that oozed from the tip like a faucet. The Rottweiler was needy, frustratingly so it would seem, as small yips and growls escaped his throat as Arthur squeezed upon his knot that now bulged free from the sheath and massaged his cock. It was just mere inches away from his muzzle, the heat searing against his palms, and the smell potent as ever so very close to its source. Masculinity, if ever it could be defined by a single scent, would be this Arthur surmised. It was so thick and slimy to his tongue that he could very nearly taste it, so rich that it was impossible to not breathe it in with every lungful. His heart raced as he leant closer, edging towards the Rottweiler's endowment with his chest pounding out a deafening drumbeat.

Rather than go immediately for the obvious, Arthur decided to use a little initiative. Holding the spire of hardened dog flesh aloft, pointed towards the ceiling, he buried his mouth between the dog's sheath and fat knot, lapping into the dark, musky crevice that sat between the two. The taste was overpowering but addictive, something that ought to have turned another's nose away only for it to draw its victim back in. Arthur kissed and suckled upon that joint of cock as he squirmed his tongue around, feeling Tyson's rumbling groan fill the room and his tail wag against the bedspread. It was clearly a soft spot, some erogenous realm that had lain undiscovered by the Labrador until he plundered the hot depth with his muzzle. His paw idly stroked the cock as he held it over him, lifting its weight so that it didn't drop down and smack him across the cheek, though something told him Tyson would very much like to see that happen. It seemed to loom and cast an imposing shadow across his eyes as he gulped at the dog's knot, but it would have to wait. The Rottweiler had waited long enough for this, and Arthur was intent on enjoying himself as much as he wanted Tyson to.

Instead he moved to the dog's sack, his nuts nestled within the valley of his thighs and fatter than Arthur could have even imagined. He knew that it was just his imagination running away with sordid thoughts, but part of him wanted to believe that all this time apart that the canine's balls had swollen in size, that they know swam with an overflow of seed that begged to mark him and breed him. Anatomy proved otherwise of course, but just there and then Arthur could pretend. He could pretend that this virile male was the epitome of masculinity, the ideal and prime mate, and Arthur was the luckiest bitch to serve him. It was almost terrifying how his thoughts seemed to run away on this notion with such giddy reverie, but there didn't seem to be any space to even begin to question his mentality. His mouth slid down lower, kissing the bulging surface of his sack before he began to suck and lick at those heavy balls sealed within. They were warm, the fur sweaty and hot, and gingerly but earnestly he slathered them. There was no way they could fit in his maw, not in a long shot, but it seemed Tyson was just happy to be worshipped, a large paw planting itself against the back of Arthur's head. He felt himself pressed closer into the dog's body, Tyson using his strength to guide the Labrador's muzzle deeper into the sweaty balls, nose inhaling heavy snorts of the canine's musk until he was drunk with the scent. The coarse fur ground against him, masking him in the smell until he was certain that he positively stank of Tyson. Clean air was hard to come by, but Arthur wasn't complaining. He felt himself relaxing under the Rottweiler's grip and wilfully smothering himself in the bigger male's crotch. It sent fire burning within him until he was groping his own cock with his free paw; eyes lidded shut whilst he focused on the smell and touch of the Rottweiler against him, hunger clawing out from inside him.

Tyson however had more immediate designs for him. His member had, for the most part, been neglected aside from the occasional strokes of its hard length. But Arthur's attention was drawn away from the dog's balls and his own quiet masturbation as the very same paw clamped to the back of his head once again used its power to lift him up, trailing that ravenous tongue of his across the swell of Tyson's knot and up the underside of his cock, right until his lips kissed the tip. For the first time Arthur could undeniably taste his lover once more, the earthy salt that danced on his buds and flourished in his mouth was just a sample, but it was enough to remind him. Memories of their first night together came flooding back and he found himself giving in to the submission that had been instilled then. The fear and anxiety, however, had gone, replaced only with experience and want.

"Open," Tyson spoke, voice deep and firm. It was a command, blatantly obvious, but it wasn't said in any malice or force. It was simply a testament of will and proof of the love between them. Arthur would obey not because he was told, but because he wanted to, just as Tyson would allow him to do whatever he pleased regardless of his orders. The Labrador merely followed them as guidance to their desires, something unspoken beneath it all that gave clarity to the muddling confusion. Arthur opened his mouth as Tyson's other paw tilted his member downwards into those inviting lips. An inch was taken at first, Arthur given the chance to suckle and settle upon the head, drinking in the flavour of the male's pre, before he felt the same insistent pressure on the back of his skull pushing him deeper. Opening his maw for the thick member, he descended down those inches, holding his breath and bracing himself as more and more disappeared into his muzzle. He expected to gag, to begin to freak out, to choke and spit back the cock being fed to him, but no such thing happened. Either it was heat of the moment driving his body to commit unfathomable acts or he was getting better at this subconsciously. Their first night together and he had faced the prospect of guzzling down the monster as an absurd impossibility, but here he was with his lips pressing up to the dog's knot, and Tyson pushing him on even further. The head had hit the back of his throat and then slid down it, rather disgracefully he might add for he'd felt the smack like a sharp cough, but there seemed to be no refusing the Rottweiler, not like this. Whilst their first time had been marked by joviality and inexperience, this second communion was laden with the obvious knowledge that one could take the over entirely.

Tyson's paw remained on the back of Arthur's head, but the Labrador was allowed to move freely when he'd swallowed all that he could. One paw of his steadied the cock in his muzzle, wrapping around the base behind the knot so that he could move his head back without the tower toppling over on him. Arthur withdrew back, until only the head stayed perched upon his lips, rolling his tongue across the opening that pre dribbled from and eliciting such starving grunts from the Rottweiler over him. Then he went down again, Tyson's grip following, as he took the fat length back into his maw. His throat felt overly full, knowing he'd full well be sore afterwards, but it didn't stop him from gulping down the dog's length regardless. He would reach the knot and kiss it with his lips before pulling back and teasing just the head. He was properly servicing the canine, not simply enjoying slobbering across it, but giving the bigger male a blow job he'd neglected to before. Seconds passed on and Arthur could feel the cock within his mouth pulse, pre coating his tongue and cheeks as his jaw was stretched. His paw returned to his own cock, desperately stroking his own shaft as he swallowed Tyson's, toes curling as his body was sparking with all the sensation and swimming in the charged atmosphere of the room.

"Enough," Tyson eventually barked, clearly holding himself back, "I could fuck that mouth for hours, but I want that ass."

Arthur pulled himself off the dog's crotch, a small gasp for air erupting from his chest as the wet dick slipped free from his lips. The dark meat shone in the dim light, glistening with his saliva and whatever errant pre might be mixed in at that point. Without either of them holding it up, the python lay draped across the canine's abdomen, slick and wet, begging to be buried in something warm and enveloping. The Labrador moved to turn around, preparing himself on all fours, but Tyson's paw snatched out and grabbed his wrist, "No, I want you to ride me. I want to see you fuck yourself on me."

For a moment, Arthur didn't understand. The concept seemed so foreign to him that he couldn't put the clues together, if they even were 'clues'. It was all new territory to him, part of him had maybe forgotten that, but it didn't take him long to deduce what Tyson wanted. He wanted Arthur to straddle his lap and to sit upon that dick. Unlike before, the onus of power and the movement was placed squarely to his shoulders. He would be in control, as much as that was possible. He stared, almost innocently, before he acted. It was what Tyson wanted, and he was inclined to at least try it out. Perhaps it would be something refreshing, as much as he would have liked to have the Rottweiler just mount him and unleash whatever carnal lust he'd been holding back.

He moved with a unsure pace, turning back around on the bed and clambering up so that his hips drew level with Tyson's; one leg was swung across the Rottweiler's body so that Arthur was sat across the canine's thighs, his member lying upon the bigger behemoth below him. It was intimidating, seeing the size difference so starkly compared to one another, but Arthur tried not to dwell on it, though the sensation of the Rottweiler's own hot shaft rubbing up against his was indescribably intense. Instead he leant forwards and balanced himself on his knees and shins, shuffling the further bit forward so that, should he sit down, his ass was in the direct line of the Rottweiler's member.

Arthur could feel his heart fluttering again, but the stress was gone. His mind had long since scorched out the problems of the world beyond and he'd allowed himself to zero in on this moment between the two of them, intimate and pure. A paw reached back behind him to grab at Tyson's length, raising it upright, feeling every throb and pulse beneath his fingers as his cock felt practically alive. The Rottweiler's paws seemed content to stroke across the taut muscle of the Labrador's thighs, thumbs gracefully smoothing the fur as Tyson watched his partner lower back down onto him. With his tail flagged up, his cheeks spread, that hot tip speared between the buttocks and slipped before Arthur righted the course; the cock pushed into him, pressing at his hole, and he let gravity do as much work as he dared, willing himself to relax as much as possible. Entry was not easy, especially when the effort was left to him and not Tyson's far superior body strength and practice, but with a soft, muted gasp, Arthur felt himself get penetrated.

The air fled his lungs just as Tyson entered his body, the Rottweiler giving off a mutual wince followed quickly by a moan as the Labrador wrapped around his member. His muscles contracted around the dog's head as he waited there for a moment, on the precipice of being dug deep with plenty of inches of canine dick, adjusting. His rational side wanted him to reject it, to get off and insist upon another way, if there was no turning back at all, but it was silently quelled beneath his own desires. Bracing himself with bitten lip, Arthur's eyes clenched shut as he eased himself further down. His legs were straining, the exertion not something he was used to, and he knew he couldn't hold up his own weight for long. But the member that plunged into his guts, fat and heavy, deterred him from resting. He wouldn't be able to rest until either he got off the cock entirely or if he bit the bullet and swallowed the monster whole. Neither seemed all that appealing, each for their own reasons, but he tried to phase all that out of his mind. He just had to relax, to accept the meat pushing into him, and to enjoy the feelings that blossomed from his gut, caught between wrong and right.

It was hard going, given that although the Rottweiler had stretched him out in the shower all Arthur had to rely on was his own spittle that coated the dog's length and whatever pre that he had to offer, but he wasn't discouraged. He sucked in a deep, long breath before he leant back, his paws reaching for his cock to distract from some of the discomfort, jacking himself slowly and teasing every point he knew as his ass engulfed the last remaining inches of thick meat. Tyson let out a low, heavy grunt, the sound elongated as his chest purred nearly as if he were a feline, his hips surging a little upwards to meet the Labrador's rear.

"Fuck, you feel so good, Arty."

A blush crept across Arthur's cheeks at the compliment, regardless of whether it was aimed directly at him or merely Tyson stating the obvious aloud. He could feel the dog's cock throb inside him, pulsing and drooling inside his body and lubing his innards with his pre. Easing himself up, he pulled off the member ever so slowly, whimpering as he felt his rim grip the rod with every muscle contraction, voluntary or otherwise. As his body began to adjust to the large intruder currently carving its way through his guts, he began to enjoy the feeling of fullness. There was something so unspeakably erotic about it, knowing that the man lying beneath him, whose loving paws stroked across the insides of his thighs and up to his hips, was resting the most intimate part of his anatomy in an even darker depth of Arthur's own being. They were joined, for lack of a better definition, by the most sensational of acts, their bodies working to provide the other pleasure. Arthur let off a strained moan as he sat back down upon the Rottweiler's length, feeling it bury itself once more into his ass, right up until the knot again flushed with his rim.

It became easier, very gradually, as Arthur's resolve melted away and his muscles grew accustomed to the cock inside him. There was a satisfying pull and push of the member going in and out of him, the force of something solid and real entering his innards only to then exit once more, repeated over and over. His breath was ragged and he was certain he was beginning to sweat, but it didn't matter. His mind was paying attention only to what he wanted, the feel of the cock sliding within him, the touch of Tyson to himself, and the soft words of encouragement and lustfulness that broke free from his beautiful lips.

His body trembled and shuddered as he worked himself upon the Rottweiler's dick; no matter how easier it became the looser he got, the feeling of that hot member pushing against his walls, tapping up to his prostate and grinding against every sensitive spot imaginable, was sending blissful shivers through his system. Panting hard, his paws went to return to his own cock, drooling pre down the Rottweiler's stomach as he bounced upon his lap. But Tyson's fingers got in the way, snatching Arthur's paws before they could even reach their destination, one for their respective side. Their digits interlocked and he drew their paws away, planting them firmly behind the Labrador's hips, flashing a sly smile that belied his arousal,

"Not so fast, pup; if you're gonna shoot, it's gonna be because of me, and me alone." His words were breathless, fractured like they had a slipping constitution, but they were stronger than Arthur's. Even as he tried to protest, he moaned aloud, the pitch shrill and needy,

"Fuck!" He cried, his head tilted backwards, brow creased in deep concentration whilst his jaw dropped agape, quiet groans and whimpers whispering out, "Oh fuck, Ty... Oh fuck me. Breed me..."

Without the added stimulus, he figured it would take far longer to reach the breaking point, but Tyson had joined the fro now. Before it had been only Arthur impaling himself upon the cock, but now he could feel the Rottweiler thrusting up to meet the Labrador's movements. The control was slipping away but Arthur graciously gave in, letting the bigger male take command, his paws closed around the Labrador's. His dick jostled as he was ridden hard, the Rottweiler kicking up the speed that Arthur had purposefully made slow and steady for his own sake. Now it was being ramped up, feeling the force hit him harder than he'd felt, a fat knot smacking at his hole each time Tyson attempted to bottom out. Though it seemed impossible, even the cock inside him felt thicker, reaching depths he had reasoned weren't yet reachable. But he couldn't deny the sensation as the Rottweiler fucked deeper into his guts, breaching past whatever unknown barrier had lain in the way and continued to pummel on through. It sent a flaring heat through his body, something that seemed to tumble and broiled like a wild sea until Arthur was moaning louder and louder, uncontrollably. His chest heaved with quickened pants as he gave in to the feeling, letting it consume him as he rode the Rottweiler,

"I'm gonna..." he panted, "Fuck, Tyson, I'm gonna cum..."

Just like their first night together, Arthur was finding himself on the end of a losing battle as he felt his orgasm rushing through him. There was no stopping it as the power was taken from him to even stem the rising tide; Tyson had assumed control and he fucked the dog with dark glee as he beamed even wider,

"Cum for me, Arty, cum for your mate."

His words were like velvet in his ears, and Arthur couldn't deny him. It send him toppling over the edge as his body quivered and bucked upon the Rottweiler's lap, still feeling the heavy meat thrust into him and iron out his guts. He felt his abdomen tense up, reacting to the oncoming climax, before it finally tore through him like a bullet. There was that brief, momentary feeling of something building deep in his crotch before it burst forward, strings of his cum jetting out across the Rottweiler's stomach. He couldn't count how many times he shot, the sensation was just too intense for him to focus on it, but he rode the wave of euphoria for as long as he could, painting Tyson in his seed. His ass clenched upon the Rottweiler's cock as his body contracted, the muscles working to pump his load from his body as he came, and it spurred on the beast lying dormant in the bigger canine.

Whatever time had passed to the outside world seemed irrelevant, but the longer they stayed there, otherwise motionless save for the soft shuffle of their bodies settling into one another's, Arthur couldn't deny the acute awareness of impending trouble. They would soon discover the Labrador's escape. They would soon realise Tyson is nowhere to be seen and is ignoring the vibrating chime of his cell sat upon the bedside table - the dog seemed oblivious to its rings and so it remained whirring, edging in some circle around the surface as its screen glowed with each connecting call. They would soon, most likely, put two and two together by any logical leap and deduce that maybe Tyson was helping him in some form or another. It would be a stretch, but the simple answer would be just to check the Rottweiler's residence. They would soon come here to see if Tyson was alright, only then they would uncover their fugitive and his aid. The longer time ticked by, the slimmer the options were becoming. But the Rottweiler seemed reluctant to break away or move, and for as much as Arthur reasoned with himself that the best thing to do would be to take action, he couldn't bear the idea himself either.

The phone stopped ringing finally. Arthur glanced across the curve of Tyson's chest at the screen as it blinked into black. If they hadn't been coming before, they'd certainly be coming for the Rottweiler now. Time was limited. It was precious. But the Labrador didn't even know where to begin.

Even as Arthur sailed on the lingering ripples of his orgasm, Tyson was taking action. In a sudden move, he'd pushed the Labrador onto his back, sending the pair of them tumbling over until the Rottweiler was kneeling over him. His back was arched, ass tilted into the air still firmly planted against Tyson's groin, cock lodged up his hole and throbbing harder than ever. Arthur's legs wrapped around the male's hips, his paws pinned over his head as Tyson held him there, beginning to piston his member in and out of that stretched hole. His muzzle leant down to Arthur's seeking out his mouth and hungrily taking him for a passionate kiss, muffling their moans of pleasure between their tongues as he fucked the Labrador mercilessly. Gone was the need to be gentle, the apprehension of sexuality forgotten, as Arthur gave in to the man that wanted very much to breed him. The heat still continued to burn in him, though not of his orgasm, more just the reminder of need. He had cum, but he wanted more. His body's stamina was drained but he wanted the Rottweiler to mark him and claim him. As he weakly fought back against Tyson's domineering lips, he could feel the swollen knot begin to make its urgent, demanding presence known at his hole.

"Fuck..." The word was drawn out and intermitted with a growl, Tyson's mouth momentarily breaking from Arthur's, "Take my fucking knot!" His mouth moved down the Labrador's jaw, to his neck, where he kissed and nipped at the skin whilst he hammered his cock into the stretched opening. Arthur was speechless, for the words weren't there to form nor was the air in his lungs to speak, only left to breathless moans as the Rottweiler took him. The discomfort of a far too large object ramming at his ass was there in the back of his mind behind the growing blossom of pleasure, but he swam in between the sensations, unable to focus on one or the other, disorientated as much as he was honed on to Tyson alone. He could feel everything from the tightness of his grip, the smell of his body and sex, the ruggedness of his fur against his own, heavy muscles slamming and sliding towards his body, the shadow casted over him, those teeth digging into his flesh; it was all too much to process as he invited the Rottweiler inside. It took only a few thrusts more before they both howled, shock and overwhelming sensations seizing them like ice, freezing their movements and stopping time for only those few moments. Tyson had bitten down upon the Labrador's shoulder, claiming him as one would claim a bitch, whilst Arthur had his head rolled back, pushing into the bed as his muscles tensed against the Rottweiler's.

Then it came, much like he could remember, the flood of that male's essence pouring into him. The fullness swelled just as the Rottweiler's knot did, locking them together. Arthur could feel himself just bloat from the added volume, the bulb of fattened flesh pushing out his rim, the torrent of seed gushing into his guts, swirling around like a tempest. It was hot, vivid, and intimate, as Tyson's body pressed close to his own as he gave the last few humps of his hips to pump what cum he could into the Labrador's waiting depths. Arthur swore he could feel his belly begin to bulge with the seed, but again it might just be the high of the sex, the euphoria getting to him and clouding his judgement. It was beginning to clear, slowly and naturally, but he felt the shimmering haze still linger on the two of them together. Tyson let go of his neck, no blood drawn but the feeling of pinpricked teeth smarting all the same, and returned to generously and softly kiss the Labrador's muzzle, no longer forging the connection through fire but allowing it to simmer and flash in the embers of their love-making.

"That was amazing," he murmured into Arthur's cheek, "_You_were amazing..."

"I don't want this moment to end," the Labrador replied, and he meant it genuinely. For as much as he didn't understand the world beyond them, as much as it scared and confused him, if he could stay with the man current buried within him, filling his guts with the seed that otherwise would have the potential for life, then he wouldn't care how nightmarish things got.

They remained joined for as long as Tyson's knot stayed inflated inside of his ass, though Arthur didn't care to count the minutes, if it even was minutes that it lasted. He was content to just make out with the male on top of him whilst they waited, sharing in the intimacy until reality came crashing back in the more unusual of ways. It hit Arthur as soon as the Rottweiler had managed to pull his knot free from the ruined hole, the rim engorged and open as muscles attempted to close the hole shut.

"Bathroom!" Arthur declared aloud, scrambling from Tyson's grasp and out from under his body as he rushed to the en suite, an unfortunate fact of nature that his anatomy simply couldn't absorb or digest the cum sitting within him. He could only chuckle to himself in mirth as he sat upon the toilet and felt the heaviest load empty into the basin below, his ass feeling suddenly hollow and empty as warm seed poured out.

From the other room came a wry laugh, the smirk evident on his voice,

"Yeah, sorry about that. I guess that's the bad side about getting bred by a guy like me," Tyson was holding himself back, "It's all fun and games until you need to empty out." There was shuffling that Arthur could hear, followed by the rustling of covers as he judged that the Rottweiler was cleaning up on his end. "Though I'll tell you what, when everything's all said and done, give me one whole night with you and I promise you'll be swimming in my cum. You've got one hell of an ass, Arty."

For as much as he enjoyed the lewd banter, Arthur was beginning to focus himself back on matters more pressing. They'd wasted some time with their little liaison, and as much as he had loved it, his brain was now begging him to consider the reality of their situation. It was as if the façade of peace was shattered and replaced with sobering truths. It came in the wake of Tyson mentioned they still had work to do, that they could continue their rutting after they were finished with whatever problems they faced. Arthur wished he didn't have to break the ideal, but he couldn't deny himself any longer, not anymore.

But the question of what this world might be seemed so horrifically complex as he sat there in this man's bathroom, currently vacating his bowels of the cum he'd just been pumped full of. Why, if this reality wasn't real, it was just a construct of his mind, the collapse of his sanity, or the decay of his last vestige of thought, why had he gone to such lengths to create all this detail. From the smells, the touches, the sounds, the very feeling of embarrassment that arose as he heard the splatter of cum into the water, why had he bothered to fill his brain with all this noise? If this was indeed supposed to be a sanctuary of some sort, why make it so painfully real. Unless, of course, it was real, which only then posed more and more questions that Arthur couldn't even begin to answer. He sighed; wiping the cooling sweat from his face, wishing things could just be simpler.

"Do you have anything I could clean myself up with?" He shouted into the other room as he felt the last of the Rottweiler's load drip from his hole.

"There should be some towels on the side."

They weren't too difficult to spot, chiefly because embroidered upon their edges was a creeping vine of roses. Arthur smiled, bemused that despite Tyson's brusque and manly demeanour, he would have such dainty and effeminate décor in his bathroom. The Labrador took up one of these towels and examined it between his paws, running a single finger across the elegant stitching of the blood red rose. It seemed so out of place, so unusual, that it was honestly a curiosity to the dog regardless. He wiped himself down all the same, removing whatever remnants of their breeding still remained, and walked to the doorway connecting the two rooms, hovering upon the threshold.

Tyson had, as he had expected, tidied up what he could. Now he sat with his back to the headboard, the sheets, whilst ruffled, in more semblance of neatness than they had been before. His cock still drooped with the lingering aftereffects of his erection, but it looked otherwise cleaned of any errant seed that might have erupted from Arthur's rump upon his exit. He was resting now, just as Arthur was, from their sex.

Arthur held up the towel,

"Some fancy shit, you got here." Tyson looked perplexed, furrowing his brow, "The embroidery on your towels, I didn't think you were the sort." His expression didn't change, however,

"What do you mean? They're just plain towels." It was Arthur's turn to look confused, and his eyes snapped back down to the cloth within his paws, but sure enough the design was gone, nothing in its place except the blank edges of an otherwise perfectly ordinary towel. He wanted to question it, but he felt if he did he'd be unravelling the end of an argument or revelation he didn't want to face there and then.

But, as much as he was reluctant to, he had to face the grave matter standing between them.

"We need to talk."

The Rottweiler's eyes moved slowly and came to meet Arthur's, almost tired but warm. The worry was still there. Arthur wondered to himself if he'd ever stop seeing the canine's gaze so worried whenever he met that stare. Surely there would come a point where the man could just look at him without so darker, sobering motive behind his eyes. Half the words he spoke became tainted by just that look alone, as if they were the rapids in the river of his train of thought, forcing the Labrador to navigate them without hurting himself. It was easier said than done, a phrase he didn't like to use lightly. He was finding his time with the Rottweiler was becoming increasingly problematic between the fraught emotions and the greater issues that loomed over everything.

"We do," that dark voice concurred, "Breaking up with me right after sex? That's cold. You could have said you just wanted to be friends." There was humour in his tone, a smile on his lips, but Arthur found it wholly inappropriate. He would have snapped, but he kept his attitude in check. He was just exhausted. There wasn't the energy left to handle jokes.

"I'm serious."

"Alright, what do you want to talk about?"

Where to begin? That was Arthur's main trouble. There was so much to discuss, to make clear, to question and clarify that starting it all off was probably the most irritating part of the ordeal. How could he explain his findings and his queries to get the answers he wants, to get to the root of the matter rather than to waste time dancing around the facts? Even now as he let a quiet silence fall between them while he thought was costing them seconds.

"I didn't kill myself." It was probably the single most important question he reckoned that Tyson had on his mind, one he'd neglected to so far answer the Rottweiler. But there was no proof, only his word against the supposition of fact. The bigger dog stiffened,

"Go on." He wanted the explanation. But Arthur didn't have the reason he wanted.

"It's hard to say... But I fell asleep and I experienced this weird... dream." He chose his words carefully, liking picking them from the potential few that could so accurately describe the visions he had been seeing. They had occurred in both waking moments as much as they had during his slumber, so in essence they were not dreams but hallucinations at best, but he feared the language would only rile up the Rottweiler's concern even more than it already was. "In this dream, I was floating in a void of black, and I saw some strange text. When I woke up I was back on the station with no knowledge of how I got there."

Something flashed in Tyson's eyes and his expression twitched a minute move from the absent concentration to attuned puzzlement. He had recognised something in what the Labrador was saying. Arthur didn't wait for him to offer the information; immediately he went probing, feeling like he'd struck upon the cord of peace that might mend the cracks of their relationship,

"What? What is it? What do you know?"

"Was the text green?" He was incredibly hesitant, almost afraid, but he stared straight into Arthur's eyes and watched. The Labrador nodded. Had Tyson seen the same visions before? Did he know what they meant? "Everybody has them. When they arrive to Haven Falls, there'll be the odd complaint of a strange dream, but it'll only be for one night on the eve of their arrival - nothing more than disorientated minds." Arthur felt a little disappointed, if he was honest. He had hoped for more, for a better revelation than that of something mild. He broke his gaze from Tyson's, furrowing his brow as he thought. "It doesn't kill them."

Arthur wished he hadn't added the last remark. It stank of disbelief, not of Arthur telling the truth but that it wasn't a suitable answer for the Rottweiler. He still, in some small way, was convinced the dog had committed suicide, even if he tried his hardest to believe the Labrador for what he was saying. Arthur could tell. He wanted to be on his side, he just couldn't deny the facts he had come to trust inhabiting this world.

"Have you had this dream?"

"It still doesn't kill them." So that's a yes, meaning it's something uniform to this realm that Arthur could take away from it at least. He wasn't alone, but he seemed unique.

"These dreams, have they ever occurred when someone's been awake?"

"You're getting off topic." Tyson seemed grave, "You've yet to explain how you didn't kill yourself."

"Oh for fuck's sake, Tyson," anger rose in Arthur, bitter and indignant. Anger he hadn't really felt before. He paced from the doorway across the length of the room, agitation building within him. It stung his throat as if it were acid and he spoke words with such venom that it surprised him, "Do you honestly fucking believe I'd kill myself? Why would I?" Tyson went to speak, but the Labrador cut him off, knowing already the same argument from the interrogation room, "No, fuck that, fuck the disorientated and confused bit, you know me better than that. You know me, I believe you do. So tell me, do you really believe that I'd kill myself? I had ample opportunity already when I escaped custody, so tell me the truth. You already told me you doubted it back at the manor, so decide."

Tense silence filled the air, the stand-off emerging from a denied space in the back of their minds as it finally came to the crux of their differences. Would Tyson believe him, well and truly, or was there just enough doubt there to cloud his head?

"Alright..." he said in a levelled tone, "But then if you didn't kill yourself, what did happen?"

That was an excellent question, one Arthur couldn't answer, but he wasn't prepared to allow the Rottweiler to believe he'd committed suicide. He refused to allow that.

His mind recalled what Grant had ranted about, remembering that the panther had spoken about dying. Tyson had already told him that people return to the station when they died, but Grant had spoken about something else, something he had seen that had sent him crazy. It had to be connected, in some small way,

"It's to do with the station, I don't know how or why, but it's significant," Arthur was more speaking aloud for his own comfort, more so than Tyson's conviction, "It's almost as if it's a starting point, an origin. Everyone appears there when they first arrive, then they reappear there when they die... It's not reincarnation or resurrection, because Grant told me he saw that very same writing which I see, which you say everyone sees at some point. It's as if it's a reset more than anything else."

"What are you suggesting? That Rosie or something just plucked you right from my bed, by my side, without me knowing, and dumped you back at the station? Does she even have the power to do that?"

"I don't know... But..." He trailed off, his mind trying to fathom how he could proceed. There was a plan, a beginning of one, but it was slow to take shape in his mind. It glimmered and sparked, but he had to construct the logic for it to work.

"But?" Tyson was at least humouring him, giving in to his case even if he might not wholly be convinced. He was communicating with the Labrador, talking things through rather than just outright accusing him. Arthur wasn't sure if he could stand that again.

"But Grant had talked about something he'd found out in the desert... I don't know what he means by that. I don't understand why only he has been affected by this all, why no one else is the way he is. I don't get why he's significant."

Tyson's face grew solemn, like a heavy weight now rested on his shoulders. When he spoke, it was with a depressed, reluctant tone, one that shuddered through Arthur as if it were a knife cutting at his heart,

"Grant was the first person to come to Haven Falls." Arthur's eyes grew wide, not because he was shocked or astonished, but because this was interesting. He knew it would have all began somewhere, that the chain of events would have traced back to the first individual to set down in this desert town, but his mind hadn't considered the possibility that it would be Grant. But now it made sense, if only a little. Perhaps the feline had been subjected to prolonged isolation on his own, forced into a world he couldn't understand all alone, driven mad by the lack of companionship. More at some point must have arrived, but it could have been too late to salvage what sanity he had left. However, it didn't explain his ravings about the desert, about what he found.

"What can you tell me about him?" Tyson let out a heavy sigh at Arthur's request, but he leant back against the headboard and his body language seemed to go numb, as if he were recounting some terrible tale that had been a burden upon his conscience.

"There isn't much really... I arrived at Haven Falls later than most, so it took me a while to get up to speed with everything, but at that point things seemed to have already been settled, as much as they could be." This was unique, and deeply fascinating to Arthur. Tyson hadn't really spoken much about his own arrival, merely offered the conventions and rules that applied to most of the residents here. Now however he seemed to be volunteering some inner part of himself he'd kept closely guarded, intimate in its own right, pervasive to others, "Grant was originally kept in the cells at the precinct, that's why we had them constructed, but he would become increasingly irate each time Rosie called, or every time a new resident was brought in. He would scream about some platform being compromised, that we were all prisoners, and that Rosie was saving us. It used to creep the fuck out of me, because though he was just some crazy nut job in our cellar, something about what he said made me feel sick, like it was all true. I tried to speak to Cheryl about it but she would always shut me down, told me not to go sticking my nose where it didn't belong, until one day it all just blew up..."

Arthur sat himself down at the foot of the bed, his paw reaching out and placing itself on the Rottweiler's ankle, a small comfort he hoped, a reminder that he was listening and there. Tyson continued, his eyes moving to meet the Labrador's,

"It got so bad at one point that I challenged Cheryl. We got into this real nasty fight, I honestly thought she'd have my badge, but ultimately I got her to come clean about what she knew. Grant hadn't gone crazy because he'd been alone, because that's what we'd all thought at first. No, see what many of us didn't know was that he'd tried to leave the town, that's why we know about the rule that nobody can leave. He's the reason." He lifted himself forward, reaching absently for Arthur's paw with his own and took it, clamping his trembling fingers around the smaller dog's, "According to what she knew, as she was one of the first dozen to appear at Haven Falls, Grant had taken a car and driven straight out into the desert before anyone could stop him, before any of us had realised we had a seemingly endless supply of whatever we needed. He drove straight out and nobody saw him for the next few days. Now he was apparently a bit quirky before then, but when he reappeared back at the station, the first ever person to reappear at all, he had completely lost it. That's when his ramblings began, when he started talking about what he'd found in the desert, about what it all meant. People grew uncomfortable around him and began to fear him, So Cheryl had him locked away. It wasn't right, I couldn't agree with incarcerating an innocent man who'd done no wrong, but I couldn't deny that there was something troubling about him. We made the decision to move him as far away from anyone as possible, placed him under the care of the nurse and kept him locked away where no one could reach him." He stared dead into Arthur's eyes, his gaze once filled with warmth and worry now only bleached with guilt and dread, "He went out into the desert, Arty, and I don't know what he saw but whatever it was, he wasn't the same after. He died out in the desert and came back changed..."

As if the timing couldn't be any worse off, Arthur's attention was broken when the phone on the bedside table began to vibrate again, chiming into the air loudly; part of him wanted to ignore it, but his eyes flitted across to where it sat.

"Then that's what I have to do," he said levelly, "I have to go into the desert and I have to find what Grant found. That has to be the key to figuring out the truth." Tyson's grasp tightened like a vice around Arthur's, the Rottweiler pulling him in close,

"But it drove him insane! It killed him! You can't risk yourself, Arty, I don't want you to." His voice was desperate and he made no attempt to hide it. There was raw emotion in his tone, nearly cracking his words as he plead for the Labrador,

"It's the only way, Tyson. It have to know, I have to learn what's happening here... I'm already in too deep now." He reached forwards and placed a paw against the dog's cheek, stroking a thumb across the smooth, short fur below his eye, "I'll come back to you no matter what though, I just have to do this. Please?"

The silence was palpable, nothing but the slow breathing and soft brush of wind to distil in the quiet background. There was a war waging behind Tyson's eyes, but Arthur already knew which side was winning. It was the side that held him dear, that doted upon him and wanted to believe in the best for him. It was the side that was convinced the Labrador hadn't killed himself after all.

"Alright..." he said, moving the last inch to kiss Arthur gently, "But I'm coming with you. And don't you dare say no." He cracked a smile, weak as it was, "Besides, that way we either get to die together or go crazy together as well. We can be cell mates."

"You're such an idiot..." Arthur laughed, but he was relieved the Rottweiler had offered his support. He honestly didn't fancy trekking out into the desert alone in an attempt to find whatever the panther had found before him. It filled him with indeterminable fear contemplating what he might face out in the dark of the wilderness, but having the dog by his side abated his anxiety somewhat.

Again though, the moment was broken when the phone once more began to ring. Finally Arthur had had enough,

"Are you not going to answer that? The longer you leave it, the more they're gonna come running over here only to find us two canoodling."

"Answer what?" There was absolute innocence in Tyson's voice, so much so that Arthur did a double take. He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Your cell, I bet it's Cheryl ringing you." Again the look of bemused confusion still masked the Rottweiler's face, as if the Labrador was just talking nonsense.

"My phone isn't ringing, Arty. I don't know what you're on about." He placed a paw to Arthur's forehead, feeling for his temperature, "You feeling okay? First the towels, now this? I didn't fuck you _that_hard, did I?"

It might have been funny if Arthur couldn't get his head past the fact that Tyson's phone was ringing. He sat there watching its screen light up and the bedside table whir with its vibrations. There was no denying what he saw, it was a fact of his own experience, but why could Tyson not see it? He snatched the phone from its side and opened the screen, only to find the caller had no identification, it was utterly unknown. It chimed in Arthur's paws as he held it, and there seemed to be no other alternative. He answered the call, holding the phone to his ear,

"Hello?" Tyson looked amused by his lover's bizarre antics, but Arthur was concerned. He waited for a response. There was silence, nothing but his own sharp breathing down the receiver. But then a thought occurred to him, built upon the notion that only he could perceive the call, "Rosie, please respond."

"Security key accepted. Hello, Doctor Quintos."

Panic and excitement flooded him at once, enough that it had him physically jump from the bed in shock. It was her, again, calling him. But why? Why now, why here? What could she want now? Last time her message had been cryptic, but it had led him on the right course, and now here she was again making contact.

"Who is it?" Tyson seemed equally agitated by Arthur's reaction, clearly on edge now that the Labrador had reacted so dramatically, "Is it her? Is it really Rosie?" The Labrador could only nod, but it sieged the Rottweiler with a passion, he too lunging from the bed, nearly grabbing the phone from Arthur's paws, "She actually calls you? She only calls the phone at the precinct, what the fuck?! Ask her what she wants, why she's doing this. Ask her what happened to you. Fuck, I mean..." His thoughts were running amok, flippant and scattered, but Arthur disregarded Tyson's absent expressions. They weren't the questions to be asking, he knew, somewhere inside of him, that he wouldn't get the answers he wanted. He would only get what he needed to hear, whether he realised it or not.

"What do I need to do, Rosie? What's next? I visited him, the guy you wanted me to see, now what?"

There was a wait for the response, but the female voice replied soon enough, clipped and courteous as ever,

"User 1309-12 is moving towards your location."

"Who's User 1309-12?" Tyson tried to question Arthur as he asked, but the Labrador dismissed him with a shake of his head.

"Please evacuate to the east-most point of platform zero within the environment." Then there was nothing but dial tone as Rosie abruptly hung up, delivering the last nugget of information as the line went dead. Arthur glumly pulled the phone away from his ear and stared at the blank screen which eventually switched off, the call having ended. Who was User 1309-12? Why go east?

"Tyson... when Cheryl told you about Grant trying to leave Haven Falls, which way did he go?" Tyson looked confused, but Arthur didn't have the time, "Just tell me, if you know."

"East, why?"

That was one mystery solved, but then who was...

Tyson had said Cheryl was one of the earliest people to arrive at Haven Falls, within the dozen if he recalled right. Grant had been the first. It didn't take much for Arthur to begin to put one and one together to realise; the last few numbers on these titles they'd been given by Rosie, they were in order of when they'd arrived here. Grant was number one, and Cheryl was twelve.

Cheryl was headed right for them. They needed to leave now.

"We have to go." Arthur threw down the phone and scrabbled to get dressed, clambering into his clothes, "Cheryl's on her way here. If we don't go now, we don't go at all."

"Shit!" Tyson made a mad dash of his own to get dressed, throwing on what he had to reach, which appeared to be his uniform, just as Arthur found himself wearing the same clothes he'd arrived in. As used and unpleasant as they might have been, it didn't matter for the lack of time; all they had to do was get away. Arthur hastened to buckle his belt up and smooth out his shirt just as Tyson clipped his holster around his torso and loaded up his gun.

They cobbled together what they figured they needed, Tyson grabbing this and that within his arms and finally snatching up his truck's keys, before the pair of them raced out of the house and onto the dusty driveway to the dog's home. Sure enough, as the Rottweiler began to load up the truck and start up the engine, another vehicle was approaching on the horizon. Kicking up a dust storm that Arthur had seen before, he knew it was the oncoming of Cheryl, hunting him down just as much as she was coming for the Rottweiler that had rebelled from her command. Arthur froze on the spot as he watched her car drive up the winding path towards them at high speed, screeching to a halt before the two of them and blocking their path out, stones and dirt ground beneath the braking tyres.

He could see her already, fury etched across her face, as she launched herself out of the driver's door, pulling her weapon aimed directly at Arthur. The Labrador didn't even register the words she was shouting, though he most likely knew by context what they were going to be, but he was filled with nothing but fear. She was going to shoot him, no doubt about it. If everything Tyson had told him up until now was true, people don't die in the absolute sense. It would be no difficult feat just to shoot whoever dead and then capture them when they wake up dazed and confused upon the platform, where they posed a lesser threat. Arthur had already escaped custody, evaded further capture and now turned one of their own against them. As he watched the weapon drawn from her hip, the tiny movement of her fingers to the safety, another curling against the trigger, he wondered if this was what death would be like; before it had been an accident, an unusual mystery, but now... Now he could stare down his killer as he was shot right there and then.

Somewhere behind it all he heard Tyson screaming his name, just as he watched the Doberman's actions in a near slow motion, unable to act, only capable of observing as she drew and aimed for him. He could imagine the bullet, a smooth perfect vessel of killing, already travelling through the barrel of the gun propelled by a small controlled explosion. The tap of the firing pin igniting the gunpowder which shot the bullet, a groove spiralling its trajectory so that it would be more accurate, coursing through the air as it cut its path. He built the image in his head of the bullet's impact on the flesh, tearing up skin and fur until it burrowed down into the flesh, digging deeper until it had critically wounded its target depending on where it landed. Part of him considered the softer flesh of his arm or leg, but his thinking turned dark as it moved to his chest, his head, or his stomach, where real damage could be done, fatal damage. It would all be over in an instant.

And it was.

There was a loud crack in the air, something distant about it that deafened the ears. The world became silent as both noise and shock stole the sound. Arthur winced, crying out as he feared only the worst. Had Cheryl shot him? Was he going to die, for what would now be the second time? Would it even feel like death? He felt cold, but that was nothing new. He had felt uneasy and peculiar from the moment he'd arrived in Haven Falls, but now the world turned still. His eyes were clenched too tightly shut and his fright was ruling his mind. Thoughts refused to come clearly, only erratic and broken, hovering just before him before rushing out of his reach.

But powerful arms wrapped around him and dragged him back, pushing him into the truck's cabin before being followed by the Rottweiler who was holstering his firearm. The smell of gunpowder hung in the air, and Arthur's eyes remained transfixed on the sight of Cheryl's body as she lay sprawled on the ground, a pool of red soaking the desert sands around her with a clear bullet wound imprinted upon her bosom. Her clothes were stained now, bleeding spreading out from her chest as she clutched her breast.

"You shot her..." he said, voice ice cold and empty. It was matter of fact, the logic gone replaced with a hard truth as he watched the Doberman reach out towards him, light draining from her eyes until it was all but gone. The paw dropped into the sand, too weak to be held aloft, as she began taking her final breaths, "You killed her."

"She'll live. You know that."

"But..." Words were distant, like they were being spoken through a pane of glass or beneath a sea, muffled and forced. Tyson climbed in after the Labrador, starting up the engine to break the interminable numbness.

"We don't have time!"

The Rottweiler had already begun to pull away as the sight of Cheryl's dying moments disappearing steady from view. Arthur wanted to see - he had to see - not for some morbid curiosity of death, but to see what happened, what really happened, when someone died. Would they disappear in the blink of an eye? Would something come take them away? How did they move from wherever they dropped dead to the station? Some force had to act, surely. Something had to intervene. Unless it was a ruse, unless someone was wrong, unless things were not as they seemed...

As Tyson manoeuvred the truck around Cheryl's parked car, leaving her for dead, Arthur would never knew if it was all true, that the dead reappeared at the platform. A cold chill filled his gut as he contemplated that there would be no turning back now. They were entering the endgame. It would all be over soon.