Happy Christmas Eve! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas.❤️🎄❤️
The Beast of Bodmin Moor
Jack stretched, relishing the ripple that trembled through his body as it settled into its reclaimed self, then shook out his fur, much as he might after a swim. After inhaling a long, deep lungful of crisp night air, he turned to face Phin. Eternal eyes stared back, wide with wonder. Where Jake had expected to see fear, there was fascination. Puzzlement in the place of panic.
Phin recognized him. Quite why they’d feared he wouldn’t, Jack knew not. Phin possibly didn’t happen upon many jackals hereabouts. This was Cornwall, not Kenya. He was itching to leap up and lavish him with licks, but hesitated, unsure of his reception.
Shy? Really? Jake stifled a most unseemly snigger. The relentless stressing had patently driven him demented.
“How did you…? Where…?” It sounded as if Phin’s thoughts had simply leaked through his lips without purpose. Or…he’d realised that Jack wasn’t likely to prove a fountain of facts.
How did you…get here? Where…did you come from?
Perhaps…where is…Ja/ke? Sulking in the back seat, that’s where. Hell-bent on proving, beyond all shadow of doubt, that he’d gone batshit bonkers; a fact as blatant as his astonishment when Phin dropped to his haunches.
The hand he extended their way was hesitant, but Jack could scent no trace of fear. Only wariness. He was worried about startling them off. A caution Jack returned in kind by stretching towards Phin’s hand, rather than stepping closer to snuff at the scent wafting from his skin. He smelled like the promise of Christmas. Mulled wine and nectarines speared with cinnamon sticks. Candy canes and pine cones. Gin fizz.
You forgot the dates.
Correction: I did forgetting. Those things are ev-il.
This is like watching a Merchant Ivory movie. I’m waiting for you to bow before begging his hand for the next dance.
A flight of fancy that proves you’ve utterly lost the plot, so I wouldn’t fret about ours.
…if I were you?
The loon sniggered. Okay, you’re just being weird now. Ironic quips and snickering!? You should have y’self a lie down, take a nap…I’ve got this.
Someone, it seemed, forgot to finish that slice of snark when their nose brushed skin. The head rush of scent was as luscious as the lick Jack flicked across Phin’s fingers. Mmmm. There were no words to describe the rush of rightness that washed over him like a wave. As ineffable as it was irrevocable. Necessary.
‘Yessss…’ works for me.
If you’ve quite finished flirting, don’t you think you should shift your furry ass before you’re spotted?
If Jake had access to his own body…he might have indulged in a folded arms humph. But it was finally, after a forever of waiting, Jack’s turn. Ha. So Jake had to content himself with a disgruntled huff. As he watched…and wondered.
At Phin. Us. P’raps. A bit.
Phin, who seemed reassured that neither bolting or biting were on the menu, started stroking the top of Jack’s head. Oh, the feel of those fingers in his fur…his eyes drifted shut in sheer bliss. Or so he thought, until Phin went straight in for the killer caress. The ear fondling thing.
Thissss…was bliss. Hyper bliss. Hmmmore… The shivery rush of pleasure thrilling through his body was breath-snatching. As was the warm maple syrup scent seeping from Phin’s pores. How Jack longed to lick it off.
It’s all going to hell in a handcart. Ears flapping wildly in the wind.
You’ve lost your marbles.
Whose fault is that, you mangy mutt? No, I have not got the hump.
Keep telling y’self that, and while you’re at it, stop cussing, you’ll get your turn soon enough. But first…
Pft, that won’t work, you pillock. D’you think he’s a mind reader…? Snorted he after Jack visualized the plan.
Ye of little faith…
Jack sat down. Then very deliberately looked towards The Albion before returning his gaze to Phin, who glanced pubwards before frowning in puzzlement.
“What are you trying to tell me…” he wondered, mostly to himself.
Jack turned his head to stare over his shoulder into the darkness, then focused on Phin…pub…shoulder…Phin... After dipping his head to give the cuff of the trench coat a tug, he released it to shoot another glance behind himself. Finally, Jack stood and turned to take a couple of steps into the night before returning to tug on the cuff.
“You want me to follow you? D’you mean on foot?”
Jack sighed, dropping his head. Then gazed up at Phin and cocked his head, waiting for Phin to voice the other option.
“Um…in the van?” Jack lolled his tongue in a grin alongside a tail wag of glee. “Where? We’ve only met here and…oh. Up the moors?” Jack let out a yip of yes and capered about a bit before swiping Phin a lavish lick. “C’mon you slurpy scoundrel…” he chuckled, unfolding himself to his full, glorious height.
With a whuff of agreement, Jack turned tail and took off. He paused at the edge of the parking bay to watch Phin jog off towards the punter’s carpark with a huff of satisfaction.
Opined Sir Snarkalot, from the back end.
Cheer up, I win, you win…we’re going visiting. I’m parched. Our new diet might be protein rich, but it sure is salty. C’mon…I’ll let you share my bowl of brandy.
Thanks. Ever the gent.
Courtesy of the company I keep, clearly.
They kept to the shadows while slinking through the outskirts of the town, heading north. Moorwards.
Okay, I was wrong, he is a mind reader. Or you’re after Queen Una’s charades crown.
That was a quick promotion, you only made her Dame Hudders last week.
I was in a mean mood.
Quelle surprise. That’s not all you were wrong about, by the way…
I am not wrong about ‘mating’ with him. You lost it after one whiff of that woman, so how can I trust you with Phin? I know you were angry, but that’s my point. Lust is as furious as rage. I can’t risk him, Jack. I won’t. Why the hell else would I inflict this on us? I haven’t sex for two years, purely so I didn’t slaughter some random shag. How can you expect me to endanger him?
That’s crap. You know damn well he’ll be safe. Coward.
I am not scared. Of what, exactly?
You know exactly what.
That’s bullshit. I am not scared of my own feelings. Shut up. I’m ignoring you.
They reached the moor before Phin, so Jack indulged in a scamper about, soaking up the simple pleasure of running with the wind while they waited. He heard the van trundle up the hill long before it came into view. They stood, fur twitching with anticipation as Phin parked up and clambered out. After bounding over to greet him with a joyful wuff, Jack gave the Phin-infused air a last sniff, then turned tail and set off for the ruins of the old engine house.
The most precious spot on the planet, for it had gifted them Phin.