Fire
Alright guys! This is my first story, so be nice and tell me what you think honestly. I may even get around to writing more!
It started, as many things do, with a kiss. Granted, that kiss hurt, but that isn't the point-
But hell, lets not get ahead of ourselves. Lets start at the beginning. I'll tell you a little about me.
I've not lived in the city long... as a Sheep, my place was out in the country with my familiy as it had been for those first nineteen years of my life. But nineteen years gets a little.. well... stifling. So I packed my bags, said my tearfull goodbys and left. Best move I ever made.
Shortly after entering the city I had a job as a freelance photographer, an active sex life with a twist (not a female in sight!), and my own apartment. Things were perfect. And then I met him. Gods, the thought of that first meeting makes me weak at the knees.
I'm not proud of myself, and will say it right out. The man was a no-good, abusive whore. That was his job, and I loved it. More than once I walked into work with bruises, and I swear the guy hated me. It was a sick, twisted relationship and expensive to boot. But it kept my head from going into the clouds as it was prone to doing. Losing sight of myself could tear me apart in the city. But that first night...
He was huge. Easily six and a half feet at the top of his head, with ears a little higher than that. Having always been told to stear clear of the more predatory species I was doubtlessly curious about the gruff Fox. His colouring was typical but his attitude agressive, even hostile at our first meeting. I talked to him, my comments met with his snorting distain, before he growled a price. Handing it over, he counted it, pocketed it and pretty much dragged me outside. I was pinned against a wall in an alleyway and kissed in such a way as never before, biting down hard on my lip untill I tasted blood. Pulling back, I recall the look in his eyes before he punched me hard in the stomach, leaving me on my hands and knees with teared-up eyes and gasping for breath. He coupled with me, furious, hard, made all the more coarse by his insults and the blows that rained on my shoulders. I stumbled home, crying softly and clutching my arms around myself. I felt so dirty, I slept in a bath full of everything i could find. Heh. As a plus side, the next day my short wool had never been so soft.
I pushed him from my mind, this nameless hooker who had cowed me so shamelessly, and tried to continue with my life.
It was a whole two weeks before I found myself speaking to him again. His attitude was worse, sneering at me as he goaded me into admitting how much I loved it the first time. He grudgingly admitted not many came back a second time. This time he came home with me.
It was no less violent, but a great deal more intense the second time as I found myself chained down. The cost was more, the indecision of my psyche greater, but in the end the pleasure was more than I could keep away from. The third time my bruises had hardly healed. This one drove me wild.
I approached him in the usual bar, eyes lowered and feet shuffling just a little. His eyes roamed me, he sneered and barked a harsh laugh. The usual routine, I had learnt. I didn't speak a word as I pulled free my wallet and paid the man.
This is where it surprised me.
He tossed it back, and struck me across the face. Hard. As I picked myself up, he grinned, took my shoulder and all but dragged me back to my own house. As I fumbled with the keys he lauged again, pushing through the door and openly expecting my meager possessions. As if approving, something entirely new to our 'relationship', he turned on me and pressed me hard against the door in a fierce kiss, his teeth not tearing into me as normal, but almost tender. Still rough, but not harsh.... I don't know if you could have understood without being me right then.
I was led to my bed, and rather than thrown down, was lay down as if I was precious. There was no anger, no derision in his eyes, just a... it was almost a plea for acceptance. It worried me just slightly, but I took it for all it was worth and kissed him again.
The lovemaking, for thats what it was this time, was slow and intense, the feel of his coarse fur felt so right instead of so intrusive and I swear my cheeks were a red to match his russet the entire time. Once again, I found myself chained to the posts at the culmunation of the night, and we slept like that. I knew I would be sore in the morning, both around my wrists and ankles and... well... guess!
The dream was so sweet that night, with his arms about me.
I found myself in a huge meadow...
Hey. Stop laughing. This is my story, and I'm telling it true.
So yeah. I was in a huge meadow, on my back, with this massive Fox curled around me... the petals were in the air, and in a spirit of playfullness I caught one on my tongue. I remember that because it tasted wrong. So very wrong. Like Ash...
I woke with a cry, wrapped in a blanket on the pavement... I felt so hot, burnt all over, like sunday dinner. Not a good mental image when you are a Sheep, eh?
I found myself crying out in confusion, bleats of disbelief and fear as the Fox... My fox towered above me and took me into his arms. His coarse fur aggrovated the burns I seem to have sustained, though I didn't yet know why, but his comfort and closeness was more than the compensation I needed right now. He whispered in my ear, told me that the Apartment had caught flames... I'd lost everything, and he had only just managed to undo the handcuffs binding me down before he passed out. The firemen found us both and dragged us free before the roof came down. It dawned on me then...
This Fox, my lusted-after abuser, had risked his own life for mine. He didn't need to say it. We both knew it. Love dosen't care for your own life when your mates is in danger, right?
A few days later, after checking out of hospital, I moved in with him. He quit his job as a Hooker and started work as a personal trainer, which did nothing but increase his allure. Since that night we have been together, and I haven't moved out of his place yet. I will, in a few days in fact, but thats only because we can finally afford somewhere bigger for the both of us!
Theres no moral to this, no deep inner meaning... I found something I liked but which was bad for me and I persued it with a growning single-mindedness. But I never gave up. It could've turned out so much worse, but sometimes you have to lose everything to find something worth keeping, right?