Awakenings 2: Instinct

by Jessica Freely

  She gave him a sad, lopsided smile. “At least we're still together,” she said. She went over to Jimmy and ran her hands lovingly through his hair. He goggled up at her, his mouth gaping. “I sometimes wonder if I knew then about the severing ritual, if I'd have done it, and if I'd regret that more or less than what did happen.”

  Footsteps sounded in the archway from the kitchen to the hall. “Severing ritual?” It was Joam, with Saffron behind him.

  Enid turned to see him. Her nose was red, her eyes bright. “To sever the life bond.”

  Joam looked from her to Blake and back again. His next words made a cold fist tighten in the pit of Blake's stomach. “Can that be done?”

  “It can, but it's not recommended,” said Saffron. “Besides, it's sorcery.”

  Blake stared at Joam. What was he thinking? Did severing their bond seem like an attractive option to him?

  “And with the progress Joam's making, there won't be any need,” said Saffron, pouring a large glass of cinnamon tea and handing it to Joam. “You boys are going to be fine. Now, how about lunch?”

  Chapter Four

  That night when they went to bed, Blake crawled into the circle of warmth that was Joam's arms. The feel of Joam's warm, lithe body against his was making him hard, and he could feel Joam's growing erection too, poking at his hip, getting him even more excited.

  He reached up and drew Joam down for a warm, languorous kiss. Joam's hips flexed, pushing his erection even harder against Blake's hip. Blake shifted just slightly, and their cocks rubbed together. This made Joam gasp, but just as Blake was about to reach down and stroke them both together, Joam scooted away and rolled onto his back. “We'd better not,” he said, running one hand through his hair.

  “What?” Blake blinked at him in surprise. Their eyes met, and then Blake's gaze traveled down to the tent Joam's cock made in the blankets. His own erection felt like it was ready to explode. “But…” he began, and then fell silent.

  “It's not safe, Blake. I'm sorry. I think we should just wait until we both know more about how this whole varnal thing works.”

  Blake clenched his jaw. “But Saffron said you did fine today.”

  “I know, but…” Joam turned and looked at Blake. In the moonlight, his eyes gleamed silver. “Just now I felt…I felt the animal inside me, Blake. It wants out.”

  Blake wanted to say, Then let it out, but that would be the wrong thing. Suddenly, he felt angry at having to argue about this. “I think you're overreacting,” he said.

  “You don't know how it feels,” said Joam, a pleading note in his voice.

  That plaintive tone made Blake feel like the bad guy for being angry with Joam. And that just made him more angry. He rolled onto his side, his back to Joam. “I guess not.” He shut his eyes and willed himself to sleep, which did not happen for quite some time.

  In the morning, Joam was up before Blake, washed and dressed and everything. “I had a nightmare,” said Joam.

  “I'm sorry,” said Blake, knowing he should try to comfort Joam. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was too angry and hurt.

  It was another day of training for Joam, and hanging out with Enid and Jimmy for Blake. They watched truTV. That night, Blake didn't even try to make a move on Joam. He just lay there on his side of the bed, as far from that tantalizing body as he could get, his thoughts running in circles.

  Joam's fear of accidentally changing seemed so unreasonable. Nothing in what the other varnals had told them so far indicated that it was a common occurrence. Why was he so convinced that the moment they made love he'd turn into a raging beast? Maybe Joam was really afraid of something else, and he didn't want to say it. Maybe he was afraid of getting sick.

  Blake remembered how he'd reacted to the surprise blowjob. He could get tested again, of course, and he would. But the thought of offering up his test results as some sort of certificate of fuckworthiness just pissed him off even more. Bitter resentment toward Joam's recent virgin status made his mouth taste sour. Not everybody had the option of only having sex with people they cared about. Sex had been survival for him. And now he was paying the price.

  He woke in the predawn, scarcely aware of having slept at all. His cock was like a steel pipe, demanding attention. In defeat, he reached down and as quick as he could, before Joam awoke, brought himself to silent, bitter completion.

  Joam awoke to a telltale jiggling beside him. He blinked and focused on Blake's back, turned to him. Blake's arm moved in a rhythmic fashion that was instantly familiar to Joam. Blake was jerking off, right beside him, in the same bed. The smell of his arousal only piqued Joam's own. But the mix of feelings that accompanied the situation was complex and confusing. Blake had needs just like anyone else, and at least this way, there was no chance of Joam hurting him. Despite that, and the fact that it was because of him that they hadn't had sex for the past couple of days, he felt hurt, left out.

  He was being childish. His cock, ever the id-driven four-year-old, didn't care. It twitched impatiently, demanding at the very least the same kind of attention Blake's was getting. Joam lay still, not wanting to exacerbate the already tense situation between him and Blake by letting Blake know that he knew what Blake was doing.

  He feigned sleep until Blake's jack-off session subsided in a stifled moan. Then after another five minutes or so he stretched, pretending to wake up. He got out of bed, pulled on his jeans, and stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom, where he took care of his own needs in a similar fashion.

  When he got back it was to find Blake fully dressed, sitting on the edge of the bed. As Joam entered, Blake quickly looked away, pretending to be absorbed in picking at a thread on one of the buttons of his shirt. “I'm sick of wearing these sweatpants,” he said with little inflection. “All those clothes you bought got left behind in the motel room. I guess we're fated to wear the same stuff over and over again.”

  “We'll get more when we settle down. It won't be like this forever.”

  Blake looked up suddenly, his glare belying his earlier, neutral tone. “Won't it?”

  Joam came and sat down next to him. “No. We're going to get through this, and…something else… It's important for you to understand that—”

  A sudden knock on the door brought Joam's words to a halt. Vic opened the door and said, “Come on, you guys. Time to get going. We've got a big day today.”

  * * * * *

  That morning and afternoon, Joam did more shifting drills with Saffron and Vic, moving from human to full varnal form again and again until he was familiar with every nuance of the change. He even took midform once, an experience that offered a comfortable middle ground between the intense sensations and feelings of being houndclad and the safe familiarity of his human form. If it wasn't for the trouble between him and Blake, the day would have been great.

  By the time they were done, it was six o'clock, and smells of venison stew taunted him as he completed his last transition. He felt tired but good. Maybe he'd been overcautious before, avoiding sex with Blake. He'd hurt his feelings over it, that much he couldn't be more certain of.

  Well, he seemed to have a handle on the shifting. The troubling dreams he'd been having had abated too. That had to be a good sign. Tonight, he'd talk with Blake, make sure he understood that the period of abstinence had nothing to do with him. And then he could show Blake just how much he'd missed him. Just the thought of it made his cock pulse. He gave Saffron a smile, and she beamed at him. “Feeling better about things?”

  He nodded. “You're right. Practicing like this makes it seem less scary. I can feel what's going on.”

  “Good. Now let's call it a day. I'm starving.”

  Joam found Blake in the living room with Enid and Jimmy. “Hey,” he said.

  Blake jumped off the couch and came toward him. Joam thought he was going to hug him, but then he stopped short, his arms hanging at his sides. “How was your afternoon?” His voice had the same level, reserved quality he'd adopted over
the last couple of days.

  “Come on. Let's eat,” said Vic from the kitchen. Blake went past Joam and took a seat. Joam snagged the chair next to his, reached under the table, and took his hand. Blake looked at him, a question in his eyes. Joam gave him a smile that he hoped was reassuring, and squeezed his hand.

  “So, Joam,” said Vic, ladling venison stew into his bowl. “Are you ready for your first hunt tonight?”

  “Tonight?” Joam had been looking forward to some quiet time with Blake, just the two of them. Inside him, he felt the hound pacing. All morning long, and this afternoon too, when he wasn't preoccupied with Blake's hurt, all he'd thought about when in varnal form was running across the open countryside.

  “Yeah, tonight,” said Saffron. “You're a quick learner, Joam. You're ready.”

  Joam looked to Blake. “I don't know. I was kind of hoping we could spend some time together tonight.”

  “No,” said Blake. “You should go with them. It'll be good for you.” There was a funny look in his eyes.

  Joam was tempted to shift right then, just for the sake of getting a better read on Blake's emotional state. But he didn't. He remembered the conversation he and Saffron had walked in on the other day at lunchtime. Blake had been talking to Enid about severing the life bond. Maybe Joam had been misreading things, thinking Blake was upset about their abstinence. Maybe he was having second thoughts about being with Joam. Maybe all this was too much for Blake. Maybe he needed some space to think things over. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes. I don't need a babysitter. Go.”

  Joam blinked. There was no mistaking Blake's frustration. Clearly he felt pressed, maybe overwhelmed by this new relationship—smothered. Okay. “Okay.”

  “Are you sure you don't mind?” asked Joam after dinner.

  Saffron and Vic were doing the dishes, and Enid and Jimmy were in the living room watching television. That left Blake and Joam in the hallway, discussing Joam going off with the varnals and leaving Blake behind with Jimmy. Again.

  Blake couldn't help but wonder when his training was going to begin, or if it just consisted of hanging out with Jimmy and Enid. He looked at Joam. At least he was getting a chance to discover more about being a varnal.

  Loath as Blake was to babysit Jimmy, who brought back unpleasant memories of what Gregor Walsh had done to his friend Randy, he couldn't deny Joam this opportunity. Besides, what can you offer him that a varnal mate couldn't do a thousand times better? “Of course,” he said. “Go. I'll be fine.”

  Joam looked at him a moment more, as if trying to see if he really meant it. That crooked smile sprang to life on his face. “I should shift, so I can tell if you're just saying that for my sake.”

  Blake shook his head. “You need this.”

  “It'll only be for a couple of hours. And we'll talk when I get back, okay? I…I know something's bothering you, Blake. I want to work it out with you, whatever it is.”

  Blake's breath caught in his throat. What was wrong with him? Why was he so determined to find rejection in Joam's actions, despite the persistent evidence that Joam really cared about him? Was he too damaged to even have a relationship? Maybe Joam being a varnal and his being a human were the least of their problems. Blake took Joam in his arms and held him tight. “Okay. You're right. We'll talk when you get back.”

  Joam seemed to sense the change in him. “I could stay.”

  He couldn't deny Joam the opportunity to embrace his whole self with others of his kind. “No. It's not a big deal. It can wait.”

  “Okay.” Joam bounced a little on the balls of his feet. Just then, Saffron and Vic came into the hallway. “Ready?” Vic asked Joam.

  They all shifted in the living room. Blake had braced himself for it, but nothing could prepare him for suddenly being surrounded by four varnals. He hoped he didn't show how terrified he was, and then realized that he could hide nothing from Joam when he was in varnal form. Joam padded up to him and bumped his head gently against Blake's hip, whining reassurance. Blake ran his fingers through the short, velvety-soft fur. “I'm okay,” he tried to reassure the beast. “I'll be fine.”

  Joam circled him, rubbing his shoulders and flank against Blake's legs, then joined the others near the door. Each one was different. Vic was silver-gray, like Walsh had been. Saffron was copper-colored. Enid was the smallest of the four, a pale yellow and white. Vic sat on his haunches, reached up with one of those handlike paws they had, and turned the doorknob. They all filed out, and the door shut behind them with a click.

  Blake stood a moment, looking at the door. Behind him, he could practically feel Jimmy drooling. He shook his head. He was being selfish. He didn't want to deal with Jimmy, because Jimmy represented what could happen to him, and what had happened to Randy, none of which was Jimmy's fault. Where was his compassion? What would he have done, if Randy had not died that night that Walsh drained him, but had lived on, as Jimmy did? Didn't Blake owe it to Randy's memory to do for Jimmy what he would have wanted to do for Randy?

  Blake took a deep breath and turned around. He went back into the living room. Jimmy sat on the far end of the couch, within the circle of light cast by the lamp on the side table. He had his feet up on the couch, his knees close to his chest, his arms wrapped around them, and he rocked slightly. Self-stimulation, Blake had heard it called during a brief stint in a local LGBT community-outreach program. Sure. Jimmy was probably freaking out with Enid gone. Near as he could tell, they were never apart.

  For the first time, Blake forced himself to really look at Jimmy, to see beyond the varnal victim to what remained of the person he had been before. Jimmy had a rounded, youthful face, but on closer inspection, Blake guessed he was probably in his midtwenties at least. He had reddish brown hair and fair skin, with freckles across his nose. He was slight of build, with long, tapering fingers and narrow lips. His chin was blunt, his eyes wide-spaced. His eyes were brown with flecks of green, and they looked right through Blake as if he weren't even there.

  Blake sighed, switched on the television, and sat down next to Jimmy, who neither flinched nor relaxed. “Hey,” said Blake. “Do you like to watch Monk?”

  Jimmy seemed to relax a bit at the sound of another human voice, so Blake kept it up.

  “That used to be my favorite. There was this one time when a bunch of guys I hung out with all chipped in on an apartment. We had a television with cable, and I used to watch it every chance I got. I love the way he gets when he's solving a crime of sorcery. I think it would be cool to be able to do that. To notice details and figure things out. What about you?”

  Jimmy didn't answer.

  “Oh, this is a great episode,” said Blake as the opening scene played out on the screen. “It's the one where he's been thrown out of the temple, and the Zen master is trying to get him reinstated. I've seen it before, but that's okay. I won't tell you how it comes out.”

  “Hhhhhhh,” Jimmy sighed. Blake glanced at him. He'd stopped rocking.

  It turned out that the station was showing a Monk marathon. Partway through the second episode, Jimmy made another utterance in response to some inane comment of Blake's. This time, Jimmy's eyes actually tracked to Blake's, though his gaze soon wandered back to the television screen.

  And then came the episode with the dog. Bhikkhu Adrian had brewed a cup of tea with great mindfulness and precision, and the Zen master's dog came into the Buddhist monk's cell while he wasn't looking. Just as Adrian was raising the cup to his lips, and the dog was about to jump on him, Jimmy went ballistic. The couch squeaked as he rocked back and forth, one hand extended to point at the screen. His breath came in rapid gasps, and his face was pale, his eyes wide and staring. “N-n-no! No! NO! NONONONONONONONO!”

  Blake switched off the television, but that didn't calm Jimmy down at all. In fact, he turned and grabbed Blake by the shoulders, shaking him hard. “Hey, easy there. Jimmy! Jimmy! It's okay. It's just a television show. See? I turned it off.”

  Jimmy shook his hea
d. “No! Bad! Don't!” His eyes locked on Blake's, and his mouth worked silently for a moment as he seemed to become a bit more aware of his surroundings than Blake had noticed before.

  “Jimmy?”

  Abruptly, his eyes closed and he slumped back on the sofa, fast asleep.

  The night air ruffling through Joam's fur was perfumed with a myriad of scents. Pine and birch, hay and diesel fuel, owl and mouse and deer. His muscles rippled as he ran full out, the other members of the pack around him. They scudded across the fields and woods like shadows, unseen in the night. Up in the sky, the quarter moon grinned down on them, casting everything in a magical, silvery light.

  At first, they ran for the sake of running, but before long, Vic had scented a hare and they were after it, paws tearing up sod and soil. They ran the rabbit down beside an old, abandoned barn, and Vic snatched it up in his jaws and, with one quick shake, broke its neck. As the others tore the body to pieces, Joam hung back. It had never occurred to him that varnals hunted and ate prey like this. He supposed it made sense—they were canines, after all. Still, much as he had enjoyed the chase, its sudden conclusion left him uncomfortable, and somehow, the idea of actually eating the raw, bleeding flesh seemed to cross a line he was not at all certain he wanted to be on the other side of.

  The rabbit was devoured all but for a haunch. Saffron, Vic, and Enid stood in a half circle around it, staring, waiting for him to take his share. He sat and shook his head from side to side.

  With a lopsided grin that clearly expressed the thought, your loss, Saffron devoured the haunch.

  They ran on, no longer hunting or, at least, not for rabbits. At length they came to a clearing in a wood. The trees around them were pine, and their needles covered the ground, forming a soft, springy, fragrant blanket.