How It Goes Epilogue - The Bright End of Nowhere
#26 of How It Goes
You didn't think it was over, did you?
As of the 27th of July, it is.
Tom checks off each box carefully as he goes through the kitchen meticulously; though the_Ox_is simple in its menu, nachos and salsa tends to require weekly restocking. Why they bother to have ice cream is one he doesn't fathom - cream, on the other hand, goes out of stock before the weekend is halfway over. The recent trend of putting on a show, for whatever reason, requires cream - and a distinct lack of trousers. Not to mention a certain amount of consumption, though Tom's noted the older ones don't need an excuse to whip it out in the first place.
To be fair, the Ox de L'Amour is a deprived hole - Tom grimaces to himself, knowing he, too, dips into it too often, in all the wrong ways.
For a third time he wanders the kitchens, comparing his newly-written list with yesterday's. The habit's a comfort - keeps his mind away from Scott, and his throat away from craving. Maybe soon they could meet each other, he wonders - hopes - but he'd already dreamt once. As the lists align for the third time, he scribbles his signature on the very bottom, and goes to register it.
"'Ere early as always, Tom?"
The otter looks over his shoulder. Walt, in casual summer's clothing - shorts and a tee - stands in the doorway with an arm wrapped around Cecil; the cream-coloured bunny waves at him, though Tom notes the wistfulness in his eyes, the longing of getting away.
"Yeah, I am," Tom replies grumpily as he moves to the till. The electronic clock flashes 10:30. "_You're_here early."
"Well, ya know, I decided I needed a piss."
"Piss. Right." Tom repeats flatly. Cecil smirks but with a hint of an excited flush. "Can you try not to...piss... all over the walls like last time? Or use the fucking glory hole? I'll put a bucket outside your booth to make sure."
"Mighty kind o' ya," Walt flashes fangs in a playful, hungry way. "Say, yeh're free ta join us if ya'd like?"
"I'd rather light the toilets on fire."
"Y'know, I realised yeh'dn't had a cock in ya fer a while," Walt chuckles. "We'd both oblige, wouldn't we?"
"Wouldn't say no," Cecil nods; he meeps as the weasel grabs his arse. Tom glares at them, and Walter's smirk turns into a frown.
"Jus' jokin' with ya, try ta relax, why don't ya?"
"Just get to fucking."
"Yessir." Walt winks at him, his cheer and blatant bulge returned in an instant. He noses the rabbit's ear softly, hand glued to his arse as he moves towards the toilets.
"Say, Tom?" Cecil turns around, and his otherwise excited face is furrowed with concern. "Have you heard from Scott lately?"
"Scott?" Tom frowns. "No, been like two months. Why?"
"He's not roleplayed with us for two weeks. Phone goes straight to voicemail." Cecil's ears droop and his mood seems to falter completely. "We're all worried."
"I'll look into it," Tom replies with a heavy sigh. "Go get fucked."
Cecil scowls at him for a moment when Walt slips his hand into the rabbit's trousers; there's a loud, almost painful squeak as Cecil looks up at the weasel, and then at Tom with a realising expression. Walt winks at Tom as they both slip into the men's toilets. Once they're out of sight, Tom steps into the kitchen and finds his phone.
Straight to voicemail.
He tries again, and again as he sits down in the kitchen's only chair. No response. He glares at his phone for a moment before he sifts through his contacts. His first instinct is to call the bear - if anyone should know, it'd be him - then he sees Brian's number.
"Pick up, pick up, you fucker..."
"Tom? You know how..." There's a loud, long yawn on the other end of the line. "... how early it is, right?"
"Whatever. Do you know where Scott is?"
"Scott?" Brian replies wearily. "I'ven't heard from him in a couple of weeks. I imagine he's at home, did you try to call him?"
"It went to voicemail. Every time."
"That's..." Brian yawns again; the bed creaks and his bones crack. "Well, I dunno then. Look, I have a fucking headache, just let me sleep."
"Fine." Tom hangs up in frustration and grumbles angrily to himself. As he calls Theo's number, he paces around the kitchen - when he reaches voicemail, he redials on the spot.
"Hello?" Theo's voice is weary, and muffled by the running shower in the background.
"Where's Scott?" Tom asks immediately.
"I'm in the shower," Theo replies, breathing slowly.
"Where's Scott, Theo?" Tom repeats, ignoring the bear's words; he grits his teeth and growls quietly.
"I don't know," Theo growls back in kind, though his is feebler than the otter's. Tom narrows his eyes, and takes a deep, sharp breath.
"You don't_know_?" Tom snaps. His voice echoes in the kitchen; not angry, like he thought, but concerned. He breathes slowly, slower still when the bear takes a breath and sighs heavily.
"I don't know," Theo repeats quietly. There's a hint of a sniffle somewhere in his voice, which slowly seems to collapse. "We broke up."
"You..." Tom replies slowly and his voice quiets. He opens his mouth to say something - anything - but his voice fails. He can hear a second sniffle, to which he hangs up. Quickly, Tom checks the bus routes - and in panic, he runs into the staff room for his jacket. Then he storms into the toilets, and finds Cecil bent over the sinks. Walt thrusts into the rabbit in a rough fashion, and he smirks at Tom in the mirror. "Came ta joi-"
"I have to go," Tom replies breathlessly, momentarily transfixed at the sight of raw cock sliding in and out of the rabbit's bubbly arse. "Just... I have to go."
Before either of them can ask, Tom rushes out of the building; he rushes down the street, jacket in hand, his teeth grinding so hard they ache. He turns the corner and yells at the bus, sprinting as fast as his short legs can carry him - and as the bus stops he strides up the few steps to the driver, hands him a handful of coins, and leaps the closest seat. Suddenly aware of how exhausted he is, he collapses in ignorance of how the few who stare - he stares blankly out the window as fear quietly creeps up his back - wondering if he really wants to know what he'll find.
Theo finishes his shower faster than he would normally. The frustration he'd hoped the hot water would wash out of his muscles were only aggravated by the otter's fucking phone call. As he rubs the towel over his face with one hand, he calls Brian with the other.
"I'm sleeping," Brian groans as Theo throws the towel around his neck.
"Sorry," Theo replies heavily as he slowly dries his throat and shoulders.
"Oh, it's you," Brian sighs relieved, and his voice picks up considerably. "I had fun last night. You left me sore, though."
"You kept moaning for it," Theo replies with a fleeting grin.
"Wouldn't mind a reprise," the bull hums, shifting in his blankets. "Might actually do something with this bloody headache."
"Actually why I called," Theo mutters as he dries his stomach and crotch. "Kinda need to get away from here."
"Did Tom call you too, asking about the wolf?"
"He did," Theo nods to himself.
"Did you tell him about you two?"
"I did." Theo looks up at the mirror, his brief grin now a grimace. "Didn't tell him about us, though. Did you?"
"Nope, I didn't. Did you?"
"Of course not. He was already flipping his shit." Theo throws the towel aside as he bristles. "Anyway, 'bout coming over..."
"Yeah, go for it," the bull murmurs. "Let's just lay off the beer for a day, yeah?"
"Yeah, 'course." Theo pauses for a moment. "Could we just... not fuck for once either?"
"What, you want to cuddle and shit?" The bull chortles. "I don't do that stuff."
Theo splays his minuscule ears, betraying no sound. There's an inquiring sound on the other end of the line, and then Brian snorts. "Oh, what the hell, might as well. Just suck my dick at some point during the day, yeah?"
"Yeah, okay," the bear replies with a small smile. "Be over in half, then."
"Great! Looking forward to your warm muzzle. I'll see ya in a bit."
Tom swears quietly under his breath as he shakes his numb hand. Seated on the front porch of Scott's house, he fumbles with his phone for a moment. His hand shakes as he dials. The wolf's voice is tired and frustrated when he finally picks up.
"Tom?" Mr. Oliver grunts sleepily. "It's five in the morning over here-"
"Where's the spare key to your house?" Tom blurts out hastily, angrily.
"Spare key?" the wolf replies bewildered. "Why do you need... What's going on?"
"They broke up. ," Tom continues. "Theo and Scott, I mean."
"They..." There's a long, sharp yawn. "They ... really?"
"Yes, really." Tom grumbles impatiently. "Look, I can't reach Scott over the phone. Nobody else has heard from him either. So where the fuck is the spare key?"
"Language," the older wolf mutters. "I gave the spare key to Ellie."
"Brian's mum?"
"Yes." There's a deep breath, and the tired voice grows sharper, as though the wolf finally woke up. His voice is filled with fear. "They... They really broke up?"
"Yeah." Tom clenches his numb fist.
"Get over to Ellie's," Mr. Oliver urges. "Get the key. Call me as soon as you know. Please."
"I will."
"Hurry!"
Tom hangs up.
"We could go over there if you'd like?"
Bax grumbles to himself as he pats his little brother's shoulder. Franz finishes his coffee as he, too, looks at Oscar with a look best described as concerned.
"I've already been over," Oscar replies, frustrated. "He didn't respond. I don't think he wants to see me anymore."
"Well, he kept leading you on," the lion says coldly.
"Perhaps," yet Franz shakes his head, as he gets up on his feet. "I don't think so. Not intentionally. I don't know Scott that well, though."
"So why doesn't he respond?" Oscar asks, exasperated.
"I don't know," Franz shrugs. "I'll hazard a guess and say something's happened."
"Why couldn't he tell me?" Oscar mutters with an angry grimace.
"I don't know," the dormouse replies softly. "As I said, we could go over there if you'd like."
"Nah, don't bother," Bax grunts, as he fetches pop from the fridge. He puts one can in front of the white bear as he opens his own. "Look, whatever's up with him, if he wants to keep in touch with you he will."
"I guess he doesn't want to, then." Oscar doesn't touch his can. Franz sighs.
"Oh, to be young," the dormouse huffs as he finds his keys. "I'll drive to his boyfriend's house and ask him, okay? Don't jump to conclusions. I've seen the way he looks at you. You haven't done anything wrong."
"But..."
"I'll go ask Theo. Go relax. Paint a little, maybe, or read."
The white bear nods solemnly as he scoots away from the table. He glances defiantly at both Bax and Franz as he strides into the living room - both of them roll their eyes, though while the lion is more amused, the dormouse is concerned. He slumps into the sofa and stares angrily at the telly, as though it is at fault. The cover of_Nocturne_rests on the coffee table. His fuzzy fingers brushes over the box's surface, and mutters "stupid wolf" under his breath. With a heave he waddles over to his PS2, grabs the controller, turns on the console and telly, and returns to the comforts of the couch.
"Oy, Oscar, I'm going over to Andy's place."
"Right," the bear grunts back.
"You know where to find me." Oscar holds his tongue as his ears vaguely catch the sound of the door opening and closing. He pushes away the image of his brother naked with the moose - grimacing as the memory resurfaces - only to remember the last time he'd played his PS2. For all his frustrations, his face lights up as he resumes where he and the wolf left off.
"I told you before, you fucked up," Amy grimaces as she gestures to Annie. "What makes you think I'll reconsider?"
"Bearcock?" Brian replies uncertainly; there's a snort and groan somewhere next to the bull. Amy rolls her eyes, but smiles faintly regardless.
"Sigh. Fine. I do need it badly." Annie giggles next to her, and she sips her coffee. "What are the odds of wolf in that mix?"
"That's..." Brian grows terse. Amy raises her eyebrows as he fingers the handle of her own cup. "Tha's unlikely. Anyway, we're over at my place."
"You can fill me in when I get there."
"Fill you up too," Theo's voice calls from somewhere in the background.
"Oh, you had better," she laughs, and she winks at Annie. "I'll be there soon as I can."
She hangs up and puts her phone on the table. Annie smirks at her with a mild look of envy as she clutches the cup tightly underneath her nose. The mouse shakes her head with an equal grin, before she sighs half-heartedly. "Sorry to cut this so short."
"All is fair when cock's involved," Annie replies as she finishes her coffee. "I suppose I should get around to deal with Bill soon enough."
"You still haven't gotten around to that yet?"
"Nope. Still that major personality defect."
"He must be really, really good." The vixen nods enthusiastically, before she turns it around to a slow, disappointed shake of the head.
"It's a shame. Oh well." She reaches for her purse. Amy pushes her cup aside as she gets up on her feet. She stretches her shoulders and adjusts her top, brushing nothing in particular off her shoulder. Her gaze follows the streets of Bicester, the train of cars slow at this hour, the crowds large and filled with subjects of the summer vacation.
"Excuse me," a voice calls out by the road. Both mouse and vixen - as well as passersby and other patrons of the coffee shop - look to the source. Hanging out of a car window is a dormouse - a vaguely familiar face, Amy notes. "Did we meet at Scott's party?"
"Oh! Yes, we did. Frank, was it?"
"Franz." The dormouse replies softly, not at all fazed. He tilts his head and gestures for her to come closer. Amy raises her eyebrows and glances at Annie - the vixen shrugs, and indicates she'll pay. Amy approaches the Passat dubiously. "Have you heard from Scott lately?"
"Scott?" She licks her lips and furrows her brow. "No, can't say I have. I've been across the country the last month, I got back here less than two hours ago."
"I see." Franz sighs as his impasse face doesn't change. "Nobody's heard from Scott in a little over three weeks. I tried to get a hold of Theo, but he wasn't home. I don't have his number either."
"I'm headed to Brian's. He's there right now."
"Would you mind I accompanied you, then?"
Amy snorts and snickers under her breath. As she regains her composure, she finds the dormouse frowning. She murmurs apologetically, "No, I won't mind. Mind driving?"
"Hop in," Franz gestures to the passenger seat. Amy looks over her shoulder, and waves her farewell to Annie. The vixen waves back; when Amy and Franz drive away, Annie is on her phone with a look of exasperation.
The continuous cacophony from the Byrne doorbell grates Tom's ears, yet he does not relent. His paw is wrapped tight around his phone, its screen lit up and on hold. From somewhere inside he can feel a tremble from upstairs, an angry stomp which rushes down the stairs. Only when the door unlocks does Tom let go of the button.
"What the fuck is your problem!? I was sleeping, you dick!"
Brian's younger sister - naked in all her bovine glory - bears all the likeness of the bull - the big frame, blunt muzzle and large hands - though her youth remains prominent. She stares daggers at Tom, who, unfazed, enters the house despite her protests. She yells at him as he strides into the living room, and he returns to the call.
"Am inside now," Tom says loudly, to drown out the fury from behind. "Which one?"
"Upper left," Mrs. Byrne replies anxiously. "Tom, I can leave work early-"
"I'll call you as soon as I know," Tom replies as he pushes aside boxes of cutlery and tablecloths, careless to the mess he makes. "Where the fuck is- found it!"
"Good," Mrs. Byrne replies anxiously. "You should hurry, Tom."
"Yeah, I am," Tom replies impatiently as he clutches the keys. "I'll call you."
He hangs up with a grimace as he makes to leave, only to find Brian's sister blocking the doorway.
"Rose, move."
"What the fuck's going on?" she demands as she glares down at the otter.
"Scott," Tom replies simply.
"What do you mean, Scott?"
"Oh for fucks sake," Tom snarls as she refuses to budge. "Nobody's heard from Scott in weeks! I'm here to get this fucking spare key," Tom holds up the key, "So I can head over to his place and make sure he's okay! So get the_fuck_ out of my way!"
He breaks through Rose, whose expression remains angry and confused. Ignoring her calls, he rushes out of the house; a storm on the street, he flies past all the houses he grew up with, past his childhood home, running in spite of his lack of breath and the stitch in his side.
"You are just..." Cecil moans as his grip tightens on the table. The weasel just grunts in acknowledgement as he thrusts in again at the same pace - slowly, softly, until he hilts, and then at equal speed out again. Walt gently fingers the base of the rabbit's tail with one paw, the other one steadily holding his phone as he records their slow tryst.
"Yeh're cute when yeh squirm," Walt murmurs as he eases into him once more. He licks his lips as his hand caresses the rabbit's firm rump. He pulls out again, the tip of his quivering cock gently pushing against Cecil's pucker."About ta come. Yeh won't mind th' creampie, righ'?"
"Not if you clean up afterwards," Cecil groans against the surface of the table. He feels the weasel rub and expose his hole and he shudders as he, once again, is filled up with weasel. Once he's hilted, he grinds against the rabbit's rear, a series of slight thrusts accompanying Walt's quickening breaths. Cecil's sigh when Walt pulls out is one of longing, and the warmth of weasel spraying over his tail and lower back leaves him content. The weasel murmurs as the beep of the phone camera signals the end of recording, and Walt slaps the rabbit's arse softly as he, in the buff, enters the kitchen.
No longer in motion, Cecil shifts so that his arms lay underneath his head. He gazes out the windows, that tingle of excitement in his chest as the occasional shade of passersby flickers the sunlight. The kitchen door opens again and he glances over at the weasel. Between Walt's hands is a wet towel. Cecil gets no say before the weasel places the scalding hot cloth on his rear.
"Ow," Cecil whimpers. Walt simply laughs as he starts to scrub out his mess.
"Yeh lie still now," Walt replies softly, as he starts to scrub. "Shame ta clean this up, though. Suits ya."
Cecil's soft whines turn to murmurs as the warmth grows on him. He stretches his toes and gently spreads his legs for easier access; he huffs when Walt wriggles a finger into his hole, tempted to ask for another round. As he looks over his shoulder, it dawns on him that they are indeed alone, and his delighted smile falters momentarily.
"Yeh dun' like it?" Walt asks as he kneads the last wad of cum out of the rabbit's right buttock.
"No, I do, I just..." Cecil replies slowly. "Just Tom, I guess."
"Ya fancy 'im?" Walt murmurs teasingly.
"Just... he left in a hurry after I mentioned Scott." Cecil splays his ears as he shifts onto his side. "I'm just worried."
"Don't be," Walt replies with a grin. He folds the towel automatically and tosses it to a nearby chair, and then he pulls on the rabbit's arm so that Cecil sits upright. "If anythin', Tom doin' something 'bout it should make ya feel relieved. Means yeh might've an answer."
"Yeah, that's true, but... what if something happened? Maybe I could've done more, I mean, after Stewart-"
The weasel kisses him.
"Shh, now," Walt says against his lips as he cups the rabbit's chin. "How am I s'posed ta enjoy yeh when yeh worry so much? Yeh'll 'ear from Tom when 'e knows, I promise. Jus' enjoy today."
Cecil flushes and smiles as he licks at Walt's muzzle. "Thought you didn't kiss."
"Turns out I do," Walt grins back, as he kisses him again. "So long as it's yeh."
"I'm going to miss you," Cecil whispers sadly, as he leans into the weasel. Walt snorts and rubs the rabbit's cheek.
"Yeh'll be less than an 'our away," Walt chuckles, ruffling Cecil's cheek. "An' it's still, wha', five weeks away?"
"Yeah..." Cecil nods as he leans into the weasel's paw. "Yeah, you're right. Sorry."
"Ah, I oughtta clean up," Walt winks as he looks around the bar. "Tom won't be 'appy. Say, yeh want ta go t' th' cinema tonight? Only I'd love ta get 'ead while watchin' one."
"Only if we shower together beforehand," Cecil replies deftly as he gets up on his feet.
"I dunno if I've got enough in me fer that," Walt snickers, as he picks up a pair of toppled over chairs.
"So let's just watch one at home instead."
Walt looks over the rabbit for a moment, as though thinking, before he nods. "Ye, think I'd prefer that too." He raises his finger. "One condition."
"What?" Cecil asks, almost warily. Walt grins up at him confidently, his eyes glittering mischievously.
"Only if yeh'll stay th' night."
The taste of Theo's lips leaves Brian hungrier.
The advertisement on the telly ends as_Scrubs_ resumes its episode, but neither of them are watching much at this point. Theo's cuddled up against him, a lazy sight, a warm body, their kiss soft, and tender, and continuous. After a moment, Brian breaks the kiss and rubs his head against the bear's. "Y'know, this isn't that bad."
"Told you," Theo growls playfully as he nudges the bull's chin. He presses his head against Brian's chest and gazes at the telly.
"Almost wish I'dn't called Amy now," the bull admits as he pulls the bear closer. The bear murmurs in agreement, and they both sigh into their embrace. Eventually, Brian exhales slowly. "I can call her and cancel, if you'd like."
"Nah, that's fine," Theo replies softly. "Nothing wrong with a third one in the middle."
"I hear ya," Brian nods as he scratches the bear's chest. His ears wiggle at the sounds from outside - cars driving past, birdsong, loud yelling from the household next door. The warmth of summer sinks in through the open window, though it compares not to the warmth of the bear next to him. "We'll do more of this, right?"
"Huh? Oh. Yeah, of course," though the bear's voice wilts in thought.
"Sorry," Brian mutters as his grip lessens. He grimaces. "This is just a summer fling, isn't it?"
There's a terse moment before he speaks, each word heavy. "Yeah. Yeah, it is. Probably for the best."
Brian nods grimly and gazes down at Theo; the ursine's stubby ears are splayed, his mood glum and pensive. Brian hugs the bear tighter with an unheard whimper as he nuzzles the top of Theo's head. When his phone starts to buzz, both of them are slow in letting go. Brian snatches the phone off the table - a message from his mother. He tosses the phone back, and glances over at the bear. "You don't_have_ to suck my dick today, y'know."
Theo looks up with an incredulous look, at first confused, then angry, and then he rolls his eyes with a bit of a snicker. "You can be so tactless."
"Got you smiling, didn't I?" Brian replies as he grabs a hold of his own cock. "I'd still like that muzzle of yours, even if Amy's coming."
"Speak of the she-devil," Theo nods, his ears perking at the sound of the doorbell. Brian grins at him as he gets up, his member stiffening rapidly.
"I'll go answer." The bull is out of the couch almost instantly, and he hurries to the door. He holds his cock firmly, confidently, as he unlocks the door, and when it swings open he leans against the frame in the doorway.
"Hey there," he says smoothly, his eyes falling on Amy - her eyebrows are raised in pleasant surprise. The dormouse next to him bears a similar look of impressed surprise. "Oh fuck."
"Well, this is Brian," Amy gestures to the bull, and the dormouse nods in acknowledgement. "He's a bit of a cock."
"More than a bit," the dormouse replies. Brian tries to cover his member with both of his hands, yet his balls swing heavily, and, try as he might, some of the shaft remains exposed. "My name's Franz. I'd offer my hand, but I'm afraid of what you'd put in it."
"Brian," the bull answers embarrassedly, and he slinks around the frame.
"You'd have thought with that bravado he'd display himself proudly," Amy snorts. Franz remains impasse and composed as he turns back to the bull - their eyes meet, and Brian licks his lips anxiously.
"I understand Theo's here?"
The blanket lays sticky against his chest, the heat of the room untouched by outside air. Sunlight barely lights up the room through both blinds and curtains, its pale lavender simple grey now - neutral, and empty, and quiet. He gazes up at the ceiling, quietly drawing breath - stale and heavy - his body heavy, his thoughts crawling everywhere they shouldn't. The chirps and calls and birdsong from outside are a dull whisper, somewhere far in the back of his mind.
Scott's ears twitch as the walls rattle faintly. From downstairs there is a soft echo, a rapid tap that grows louder and louder. The soft hum of the doorbell rings alongside the whispers, but the wolf doesn't stir. His gaze remains as he tunes out the pounding, until only silence remains.
Then there's another slam, and a voice - this time inside the house. A voice yells somewhere below, and then the floor trembles, angrily, frightened, each step thundering faster and faster up the stairs. Scott's gaze shifts to the door only a few seconds before it bursts open.
Tom's expression is one of fear and anger. The otter clutches his side as he tries to catch his breath. "Scott, you... you idiot, you had me scared shitless! I've been... I've been running and..."
Scott shifts onto his side, turning his back to the otter. His bed jolts as Tom falls into it. On his knees, Tom crawls over to the wolf. "Scott, I'm sorry, I... I-I heard about you and..."
The wolf remains quiet, and still. Tom, wheezing for air, reaches to touch the wolf - when he does, the wolf jerks away and curls up. There's a faint whimper in Tom's throat. "It''s okay... I'm here, please, just..."
Scott shies away again at Tom's touch, and again, until he lays pressed against the wall. He trembles, still quiet, as the otter wraps his short arms around his upper body. The warm breath against his muzzle leaves his ears twitching. "I'm not going anywhere, I'm here now."
The wolf wraps the otter's arms around him tightly as he starts to tremble. Tom's embrace tightens, his stubby, wheezy muzzle nestled against the side of the wolf's head. "Please, Scott, say...say something?"
Scott merely shakes his head, yet his body lets out a whimper, and another one, until his chest hurts. His body shakes as he pulls his knees up to his chest and, alongside the otter's slowly budding sobs does his own cascade. Tom's grip around his chest weakens, and the wolf grasps after the otter in desperation - only to find the otter clinging to his chest instead with tender nuzzles against his cheek.
Burying his face into the nape of Tom's neck, Scott tries to not break - not again - it wouldn't hurt then. His snout sinks deep into the salty wet of the otter's neck as his face twists and aches; aided by the otter's whimpers, he strengthens his embrace as his throat burns, and burns, and burns until he finally lets everything out.