The Change, part 2
Victor awoke in the bathtub, his head resting on one of the pillows from the bedroom, the short lead pipe he used for defense against the insane victims of the Change still lying by his foot. Artyom lay curled up in his arms, still asleep.
Looking down at him, Victor felt his affection for the recently-Changed boy like a wave of tingling warmth all through his body. He held him tighter, resting his cheek on Artyom's softly-furred head. He gently squeezed him once, as if to confirm his reality, his solidity. The previous night had been rough.
One of the crazy ones had been right outside the boarded-up windows of their bedroom. Not trusting the boards to hold against a determined attack, Victor and Artyom crept to the bathroom, their usual panic-room. It was roughly in the center of the apartment, on the left, with the neighboring apartment on the opposite side.
Just as they were creeping silently through the door, blood-chilling screams came from outside the bedroom. The monster there had found some other victim, it seemed.
A frantic voice cried out in agony, screaming for help, for sanctuary. Artyom was sobbing by the time they had the door closed, crushed under the sheer responsibility of having left another human being to die.
They climbed into the bathtub together, Victor holding tight to Artyom's shaking, sobbing form, trying to whisper reassurance in his pointed vulpine ear over the sound of a person dying slowly.
Victor held him now as then, tight enough to his chest that he could feel both of their heartbeats. He nuzzled his cheek against his sleeping lover's head, feeling the softness of his blue fur. He was still getting used to that being there in place of wild, unkempt brown hair which reached his shoulders. Even so, he was starting to find beauty in Artyom's new form to rival that of his old. It was strange, but he accepted it eagerly, not wanting to even contemplate losing interest in the love of his life.
In a way, this was just like things had always been since Victor met Artyom. Sometimes, he could look at him, and he'd notice some new element to the unknowable number of subtleties that were Artyom, and it was like falling in love all over again. The same thing was just happening again.
Artyom began to stir. He yawned a long, vulpine yawn, stretching heavily before settling back into Victor's comforting embrace. He snuggled into his chest, sighing.
"Good morning," he said. He sounded happy.
Victor smiled, renewing his embrace, trying to communicate some of the warm, wonderful feeling vibrating all through him.
"Good morning," he replied, warmly. "How'd you sleep, babe?"
"Alright, actually," Artyom answered, still resting his head on his boyfriend's chest. "You're comfy to lay on." He giggled.
Victor laughed a little, too, not really at the odd compliment but just in the sheer joy of seeing his traumatized boyfriend smile and laugh again.
"I'm glad," he replied, shutting his eyes and changing his position a little so his head was next to Artyom's. He nuzzled his cheek against the vulpine's affectionately. "I love you so much."
Artyom murred, returning the tender nuzzling.
"I love you too," he said with calm, serene confidence in the truth of the statement. That was like saying the world was round, the sun rises in the east, and that the mail probably wouldn't be coming any time soon to their besieged apartment stronghold. An undeniable fact of life.
"I was so afraid for you, baby," Victor continued. His eyes were shut tight, his face buried in the soft fur of Artyom's neck. A few soft noises revealed that he was crying, softly, still holding onto the vulpine like it was the end of the world. Well, it was, after all.
It was an irony, thought Artyom, for he to be the one worried and Victor the one crying. No matter.
"You okay, babe?" he asked, looking down at him.
"Yes..." came a muted reply from within the fox's thick neck-fur. "It's just... That thing almost broke in. I was so afraid I'd have to watch it kill you. I don't want to feel like that ever again."
He clung to his physically-transformed lover tight and determined, showing no sign that he would ever let go.
Artyom returned his affection as fully as he could, nuzzling and kissing him, trying to make Victor stop crying. He owed him this, Artyom felt; they'd hardly been intimate at all since the Change, Artyom too shocked and ashamed of his transformed body.
"Hey," he whispered warmly, close his lover's ear. He lay on his belly, atop Victor's chest. Artyom didn't weigh much (and if anything, the Change seemed to have made him a little thinner and more shapely) so there was little discomfort.
Artyom leaned in close, meeting Victor's lips and kissing him passionately to get his attention. Somewhat reluctantly, Victor reciprocated, his tongue gently reaching out and seeking purchase. Artyom opened his vulpine maw and allowed it, trading it with his own.
The Changed boy had discovered a wonderful thing about his new body: with his elongated jaw and long tongue, he was probably now the best soul-kisser Victor had ever known. If he wanted to, he could probably even - literally - put his tongue down Victor's throat.
He was gentle now, though, trying to calm and comfort Victor. He slowly roamed the sensitive spots inside his mouth, cranking up his heart rate noticeably.
When at last it ended, they came apart and stared contentedly into each others eyes.
"Feel better, hon?" Artyom asked softly, sweetly.
Victor stared up contentedly, breathing deep and slow in calmness. He looked at Artyom like he was the sky, the mountains, the whole world.
"I always feel better when I'm with you," he said softly.
With that, Artyom lay back down. The two lay together in the tub for some unknown, though fully conscious and awake period of time, each enjoying the silent contentment of being with the other.
At last, though, when he felt fully comforted and confident enough to actually leave Artyom's immediate side, Victor got up with his pipe and went to go check the apartment to see if anything had gotten in. They parted with a brief, though affectionate kiss.
Victor went from room to room, the pipe at his side, checking for damage to the windows. They were all untouched, all except the one in the living room. Some great fist or paw or whatever had punched straight on through, throwing glass and the broken halves of planks far into the room.
It didn't seem that whatever had done it had pursued their attack, however; the wall-to-wall carpet was dry, and anything entering in the night would have been soaked by the rain that had fallen then.
Victor's mind was contemplative as he went to check the rest of the apartment, not expecting to find much, and getting what he expected. He thought long on love, the years, and how he'd continue to provide for himself and this person he'd come to love more fully and intensely than anyone he'd ever known before. The cans in the grocery store were bound to run out sooner or later, and he didn't have the slightest idea what to do about the window. Not for the first time, he thought of travel, escape. The insane ones owned the streets of the city by night, and presented a considerable obstacle during the day, as well. If they got to somewhere that had born almost no population at all at the time of the Change, it stood to reason there would be fewer, if any, mad ones to contend with.
Thoughts of that had to wait, he knew, however. Without the proper preparations, resources and materials, he'd just get himself and his soul-mate killed by horrific, wild brutes. He sighed with exasperation and then dropped it, re-entering the bathroom to find Artyom preening himself in the mirror, trying to get his fur to lay even and smooth.
"All clear, honey?" he asked, not looking away from the mirror as he tried to make his odd new form as beautiful as he'd always imagined it to be when it existed only in his head. If Victor was going to have to get used to dating a fur, Artyom decided, he'd get used to dating the hottest, sexiest fur possible. For so diligently, patiently watching over him since the Change, not to mention making the previous five years of his life the happiest he'd known, he felt he owed Victor that. He was painfully aware that it would be difficult for many to continue loving him, after this. He felt all the more gratitude and love for Victor to see how he tried and succeeded still.
"All clear," he replied. "There's a broken window in the living room that's going to need to be dealt with, though."
"Okay," Artyom said happily, stepping away from the sink. He walked up quickly and put his arms around Victor's taller frame, nuzzling him lovingly. "I'll help you clean it up."
They spent about an hour cleaning up broken glass and wood, then taped a plastic shopping bag over the window and decided it was enough, so long as they stayed quiet at night. They sat on the couch, Victor sitting against the arm of the couch and Artyom reclined against his chest, sitting in his lap. Victor held on tightly, nuzzling his cheek to the top of his fuzzy head. Escaping Visaginas could and would wait. Everything was alright, for now.