Through a blank hall the wolf follows me; his breath, the breath of a man.  Clyde is a hallway the exact length of the longest tooth of a wolf and the slowest descent onto his cock.  Forever. I wake up from his pursuit of me to a gasp in the warm night. Nothing before this, matters. I’m freezing, and Clyde is awake.

“Clyde,” I say, my voice a panic.  I grope toward him in the dark, the candle blown out on the nightstand, and the bright haze of light-pollution pouring in through the window.  His hands find me in dull awakening, and the sense of my fever comes back to me while I move and fabric touches my skin.

“Clyde, I,” I start to tell him.  Shaking hard against the chill, the warmth of him near me in the bed pulls me like a beacon and fevered, I taste his skin in my mouth and blind and terrified apply it there.  He moves rapid and assured, pulling off the blue pants he stole from Grady and fell asleep in, the sweatshirt I’m huddled in, the black panties I’m wearing, and covering us both in the worn orange blanket I can’t escape.  I help him, confused and shivering, somehow full of a desperation that he might not be real. I feel his cock on my thigh before he pushes it into me, so hard it doesn’t feel real. I wonder how he knew I would be wet, and it’s one of a hundred secrets that passes between us, unspoken.  He knew I’d be wet because he knows I like what he does to me.

Rapid and assured, he pushes into my pussy and buries his face in the pillow and clutches my ribs, murmuring an insistent, “Fox,” next to my ear.  

He wrote down once on paper that I fuck him like I’m trying to forget how.  Now, he fucks me like he’s trying to remind me, his hands confused on my face and his mouth biting soft the skin of my shoulder.  His eyes, when he holds himself over me, search for something to focus on and fail, and he’s much faster than he’s been with me lately, fucking me hard against my will to make it last.  There’s some velocity between us to fall into what we’ve found, on the other side of a nightmare.

I know he knows.  It’s in his face, that he knows, his mouth bitten back and hard.  I know he feels something inside Bitter for me, that made his cock this hard and made him smell me and made him cling hard to my shoulder and hope he could draw blood with our sex that he can’t with his teeth.  I know, and I know he knows, and he knows I know. And I know he knows…

His eyes lower, and shade themselves with a curtain of his hair.  He cums inside me without any regard for the sounds I make. I have his body in my fists somehow, and I feel it tense and then he’s silent and falling through space or time, and I wait with my eyes closed, his breath in my ear returning in blasts, uneven with something that seems like dismay.  

Dismay at the existence of nightmares, at all that gets a boy hard, at how he fucks a girl and the shame that it makes her somehow remember his name.  Something....Brad said….that was a secret….about where you put your cock and how it remembers your name and the fucking embarrassment, maybe, of wanting that to begin with.  

“Clyde,” I tell him, to prove I remember his name.  I let you, Clyde. I let you, I let you in, I let you cum, I let you kill me a thousand times.  I remember your name.

“Nine,” he says back quiet, between teeth that might be tightened by his jaw.  I hear him lick his mouth. He stays inside me, still hard, his cum making slick and wet sounds as he slows to a steady pace. 

There’s a boy, I know in that moment, that a wolf lives inside, and in the space of knowing that wolf as the thing that kills me, I’ve never seen so immediately after, the presence of that boy.  The gravity of what that could mean settles on my chest, and I cry suddenly, surprised at the reaction.

“Oh, god,” I whisper to his hair, and he lowers his head to avoid how I want to look at his face and verify for once and fucking all that monsters don’t exist.  

“Oh, god.”

I never would have whispered such a terrified thing to a wolf running fast for my blood.  Just this boy, and how I’ve always been in his teeth, in some more haphazard and lopsided way.  

We never talked about it.  I never thought about finding him in the night when I woke, I never thought of any of it.  I just thought there were two worlds; one for me and a ghost, and one for Clyde. He makes me cum in sweat surrounded by the blanket shell of us, and I cry because there is no wolf and never was.  

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