Beast of Bodmin Moor 36

The Beast of Bodmin Moor




Hmmm…more…” His murmur was a purr of pleasure that shimmered down Jake’s spine and shivered across his skin like the stroke of a thousand feathers. As compelling as the unabashed response of Phin’s body; every sense as finely tuned as a Stradivarius string. Muscles that flexed with such fluidity, he would run like a ripple of ribbon in the wind. Phin’s ungainly grace, like a newborn foal finding its feet, had smoothed from staccato spurts of movement to a melodic glide. A violin stroked by the bow of a master, rather than plucked at random by a truculent teen.

All these shifts might have been too slight to notice, had Jake not been intent on doing just that. Having never watched himself in motion, he’d been blind to the subtle, yet startling differences he now saw in Phin. Even if he had studied himself, his gaze wouldn’t have been graced by a ghostly gleam of pearlescent skin in the soft glow of night-sight. Let alone an endless streak of naked wraith on a sheepskin rug; carved from ivory, kissed by moonlight. Exquisite. His.

Barely conscious of his own movements now, Jake just…let go. Allowed his body do as it demanded and surrendered to the all-consuming craving. Revelled for once, in being no more, no less than a creature of flesh, blood and bone deep need…who needed Phin more than his next breath.

Closing his eyes, Jake focused instead on a world of touch, taste, scent. Relished the rhythmic thud of the most precious sound in his world. As strong and true as they’d ever remain to Phin. Mates for life. I did not think that. Did too. Twin pulses; racing ever faster as Jake sped up, spurred by an impossible pressure, sparking up his spine, boiling his blood. The world behind his eyelids, ablaze in a haze of scarlet bright, like infra-red on LSD. No drug on Earth could compare to this. Nothing had ever, or could ever compete. No one. There was only Phin.

It was an irrevocable truth. Written in blood. Their blood. Jake’s scent coursing through Phin’s veins….calling his jackal out to play.







Rather than being gloriously glutted, Phin felt so fizzy he could do sprinting up the side of a mountain for a sumptuous picnic and spot of alfresco sex. He was still starving hungry. In every way. Crikey.

Jake sighed and did sinking down onto Phin’s back in a smudge of slick skin. His sigh was a lush shimmer of sound that seemed to do stroking Phin’s ears. A feeling so luscious he didn’t blame Foxy—Jack—one bit for going all gooey when his were fondled. If the ear thing and being hypercharged, rather than knackered seemed weird, it wasn’t a patch on the fact Phin was willing to swear that Jack felt happy. Not in an instinctive way like before, when he’d sensed that Foxy wouldn’t hurt him, but in a very real way. He knew that Jack was chuffed t’bits. As certain as if Jack had done telling him.

Phin knew lots more things, too…


“Yeah..?”  Jake did pressing a silky kiss to Phin’s spine before slipping from his body and doing flopping on the rug beside him. The ache he left in his wake was hollow rather than ‘hurt’. Phin had never felt finer in his life. Unable to resist the lure of lying flat on fluffy fur, Phin did lowering himself to his belly and turned his face towards Jake.

“You know…don’t you?” Phin was so unsure how Jake would react that his voice came out all husky, hesitant. While he was quite convinced he knew how Jack felt—Jake didn’t tend to do singing from the same hymn sheet—the daftest turn o’phrase Phin had rustled up yet.

“Yes.” Jake’s swallow sounded so dry it did scraping up his throat. “I’m so sorry, Phin. I should be shot.”

“Jake…I’m glad,” Phin did reassuring him, lifting his hand to trail his fingertips down the gleaming gold of Jake’s chest. Twitches of pleasure did skittering across its surface as his eyes sighed shut, despite himself.

“You won’t be…then you’ll hate me for it.” His voice was a rasp of velcro rather than velvet. Another whiff of vinegar assailed Phin’s nostrils.

“I could kill for some chips,” Phin admitted, before adding, “Yes, I will…and won’t do hating you. Ever.”

“You can’t say that…you don’t know.”

“I just did saying it…and I do. I could never hate you, even if you didn’t fancy your bone much and did shredding me with your teefs. So that’s that.”

What the—? You’ve just realised that I’ve turned you into a mangy mutt! How the hell can you insist you won’t hate me for it, so that’s that!?

“Eew…I hope I haven’t got mange. It sounds scratchy…ah well, never mind. I will be able to do licking my balls, that should prove plenty distracting.“

Oh fuck…” Jake’s shoulders started doing shaking when a chuckle bubbled up—despite himself—which seemed to be his contrary response to all sorts o’stuff. Quite how he managed to do so much despiting was a mystery. He was forever contradicting himself in a loopy loop of lunacy. Jake should have been a werewolf, so persuasive was the sway of all things lunar upon his person. Phin didn’t say any o’that aloud. He had bigger fishes to fry.

“Yes please.” Phin grinned.

“What? Again?” Jake’s jaw did dropping a tad.

“I find I’m feeling peckish already.”

“You need food first,” Jake stated, spearing Phin with a steely glint of silvery blue.

Then you’ll do filling me up in a more fun way?” 

“Yes…” Jake sighed and did rolling his eyes, as if he was hard done to.

“It’s a good job I know you’re doing pretending, or I’d be most miffed. I can’t help it, it’s your fault.”

“I know… and I’ll never forgive myself,” Jake snarled. The snarl was self directed, the words were wafted Phin’s way.  

“You’re bonkers…you can’t blame yourself for having the lushest tush on the planet. You didn’t do picking it from a line up of best bums, y’daftie. It was bestowed on you, so you’ll just have to do making the best of it.

“F’chrissakes, I wasn’t thinking about my arse.”

“I was…it’s one of my favourite things in the world to do thinking of. Anyhoo, I already told you that I hoped to turn Foxy and I wasn’t doing fibbing. I meant it.”

“Why the hell would you want that?” Jake snapped.

“So I can be with you…in every way. Both ways. Always. Can we have sex, d’you think?”

“What now? I told you…food f—”

“Noo…when I’m in foxy form.” Phin interrupted.

“God, I hope so…” Jake groaned.


“What’s hah!?” 

“See…you do want me to be foxy,” Phin grinned with glee.

“How the hell d’you work that out?” Jake growled, the blue ablaze with outrage. Hmm…

Phin was a fast learner. Except for stuff he couldn’t do learning at all. Like logic. He didn’t mention that, he was too busy frying fishes. “Easy. You said: I hope so. If a part of you didn’t secretly want me to be foxy, you would never have said that—longingly—the way you did. The very thought would have done affronting your…honour.”

Honour!? If I was honourable, I would never have laid a finger on you.”

“That’s bollocks. Blimey, I seem to be doing lots of thinking about balls. Odd that. I agree with Jack.”

“What?” Jake spluttered, as if he’d gone deaf, all of a sudden.

“I’m with Jack. It’s a Gift.” 

A Gift!? I don’t know where the fuck to begin. It’s NOT a gift, it’s a goddamn curse. You agree with him…how the—?” Jack abruptly ran out of steam, as if his brain was too taxed to do cobbling words together. He sprang to his feet in a flash and stomped to a coffee table by the sofa, upon which sat a bottle of whiskey.

Phin had been too distracted to do thinking about a drink…but now that he had thought about it, his thirst was so intense he could glug The Albion dry. Jake glanced over—as if Phin had uttered that aloud—then gave the lid a swift twist before lobbing the bottle at him.

Next thing Phin knew, he’d snatched it out of the air and seemed to be kneeling up, rather than lying on the rug. He must have done shoving himself up so sharpish he missed that part. It was all a bit of a blur.

“Thank you,” Phin grinned, unscrewing the strewth its tight lid for a quick guzzle. Jack winked when their eyes did locking, but Phin still saw the flick of a honeyed wrist in his peripheral vision. He shot an arm up to catch the tumbler hurtling his way—without looking—still ensnared by bewitching blue. “Strewth…d’you think I could play in goal for Plymouth Argyle?”

“You might want to acquaint yourself with your strength first, or you’ll take out half the team when you lob the ball back into play,” Jake’s chuckle was gruff rumble of sound so luscious Phin wanted to do licking it. He was finding it even harder to do concentrating than usual. His marbles were skittering hither ‘n’ thither, his focus tugged in different directions, trying to absorb the scents, tastes, sounds besieging him. It was a very lot of too much to do taking in at once.

Jack came and sat down, then did leaning against the armchair with his legs stretched out on the rug. They looked as if it had been glazed in golden syrup and sprinkled with silky hair. Phin wanted to lick those too…and very much more. He hoped Jack wasn’t planning on doing cooking, or he might starve to death. Twice.

Phin…” His name was a warning growl.


“Food. First.”

“That’s not fair. I didn’t say a thing.”

“It was hardly necessary,” he huffed.

“Crikey.” Phin blinked, looking down. He had his very own jack-in-the-box cock. How splendid.

“That’s the least of it. I’d know if I was standing in the kitchen. I can smell you.”

“What do I smell of?”

“Lust, longing. Need, which is torture,” he groaned.


“Not acting on it. Jack…knows and he’s…fuck!

Phin’s guts spasmed with a shaft of pain alongside Jake’s curse, which came accompanied by scrunched eyes and a sharp hiss of air sucked through gritted teeth. Phin wasn’t even sure whose pain it was. He could do sensing Jack’s…frustration, which didn’t seem daft; his instincts always told him stuff, but never in a way that clawed his insides as proper pain. Scratchiness was different, that didn’t do hurting; it made him want to claw his skin off, but that was a consequence, not a cause. 

Phin crawled across the rug to Jake and found himself sitting astride his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, before he’d done wondering if it was wise. Why bother? He had to comfort Jake, it was a twin-tug on his heartstrings; Jack needed him too. He’d been trying to do far too much thinking, which always made him make muddles.

Instead of fretting about making Jake miffy and upsetting Jack, he should do following his instincts. They never did faltering or faffing about. Stuff would become so much simpler if Phin just did doing.






Jake wondered if his brain might blow up when his skull could no longer contain the chaos; there were too many conflicting emotions waging war in there. The predominant one being guilt. Guilt as vicious as a steel-jaw trap, having done the very thing he’d feared most. A crime so unspeakably selfish that Jake should, by rights, be skinned alive. Shooting would be too quick—too painless—and more to the point, he’d probably survive it. 

Murdering Phin would have been less despicable. Death would have been more merciful than the life he’d damned Phin to. A knowledge Jake would have to live for the duration of his, having forfeited the freedom of revenge. His penance would abandon Phin to the fate they’d forced on him; the one act more cruel than the future Jake had condemned him to.

‘I’m glad…I could never hate you…So that’s that.’

Three pearls of wisdom from Planet Phin. A world of whimsy where forgetting was an art form that defied all reason why, or why not. Jake knew full well that Phin believed every word that flitted from his lips, even when he was ‘doing fibbing’. A fact as unfeasible as it was accurate. 

Phin’s assertion was honest—his scent unsullied by deception—he was telling his own truth. He hadn’t said it to comfort Jake, or in an effort to salve his guilt. The reason Phin gave for being ‘glad’ was the most horrifying of all:

‘So’s I can be with you…in every way. Both ways. Always.’

Phin, quite possibly, envisioned their jackals scampering off into the sunset together, serenaded by pan-pipes. How the hell could he want to suffer Jake? He wouldn’t wish himself on his worst enemy; no one deserved that fate less than Phin. Not even as a furry friend, let alone the ‘mate’ Jack was hell-bent on believing he’d found. Scented a kindred spirit on the wind, or some such nonsense.

Scoff ye not, you upstart. You know damn well what you sensed. 

Kinship? We’re not related.

You’re not human either. So why cite such an irrelevance? Kinship, soulmate, bondmate, mate-mate, whatever. ‘Life partner’ if you prefer a pastel rose by any other name. Take your pick. Then you might want to do remembering that You fell in love, so suck it up.

In love? You can’t just declare that as ‘fact’ in so few days. Particularly after bastardising Shakespeare.

Can and did. I scented a kindred spirit on the wind or some such nonsense, don’t forget. So you took your time, tardy arse. 

Three years is taking my time, not three bloody days. It’s too soon to claim something so ludicrous. I can’t go there—

Too constipated, that’s why.  

What the hell am I supposed to infer from that?

Y’should eat more sausages? 

Ha. Ha.

Sorry, it was irresistible. Like sausages. I meant: you’re too bunged up with crap to go. ‘There’. 

Very funny.

No, it’s not. Still true, though.

Could you possibly look more satisfied with yourself? Don’t answer that.


I’m with Jack. It’s a Gift.”

Setting aside the fact Phin had declared it a gift, rather than a curse…how did he know that Jack insisted this? Jake had no idea what Phin thought about fuck all…although he could sort of tell how Phin felt. But that was based on instinct and scent, not intuition so astute it was absolute.

Phin’s reflexes were astounding. Jake had never seen anyone move as fast as Phin had snatched the bottle from the air…but then, Jake had never watched himself. Excepting the part it was impossible to ignore when that sprang to attention…a party trick Phin had already nailed, with alacrity.

They would barely be able to leave the house if this kept…up. A fact Jake would welcome, if not for a very real responsibility to Phin. Jake could not fail him, Jack could not facilitate that failure. It would be a dereliction of duty. Downright neglect of the man they would die for. The least they could do was pave a way for him to live.

It was impossible to tell if Phin’s…Phinness would prove a positive or negative factor. He didn’t seem to give a shit about participating in ‘society’, he just pottered around doing… Phin things. So how the hell was Jake supposed to prepare him for something he was never a part of in the first place? Purely because Jake deemed it his ‘responsibility’? Surely that would make him as guilty as those who’d tried and failed to chip away his too muchness? Hadn’t doing just that been their ‘responsibility’ too?

Phin would have every right to resent him for even attempting something Jake had no wish to do. All of which left one road clear for Phin’s campervan. A singular raison d’être for Jake. Be there for him. Help Phin come to terms with it on his own terms, ensure that he felt as comfy in fur as his skin.

They’re both ‘his’, numbnuts. 

I know they are, he’s hardly going to wear yours, is he?

Ours. Your pronouns are offensive, you should be shot. By the PC police.

Oh, shut up…If there’s ‘something you’ve been meaning to mention’…? I’m not that big a bastard. I’d bite my tongue off before misgendering you—

Us. You’re at it again…so y’can shove respecting my identity where the sun don’t shine. While you’re at it, ask Phin to explain ‘exception that proves the rule’. That’ll justify your belief in honouring folk’s pronounsapart from oursyou pillock. By the way, I’m somehow certain ‘your’ tongue is as safe as the part you were particularly  fond of, half an hour ago. Odd that.

Why the hell did I get saddled with the most pedantic and cussed critter on the planet?

No idea, we’re sure…





Beast of Bodmin Moor 34

The Beast of Bodmin Moor





“Phiinn!” The rasp of his name seemed to do tugging deep in Phin’s guts; somewhere so secret, sacred, he’d never felt a peep from it before. Sort of similar to the sizzling spot that had sent fireworks fizzing up his spine and made his head do exploding; except, this was a…bone-deep drag. Rather than a…button that did triggering consequences. Blimey, it was a good job Phin was too busy to botch that barmy explanation aloud. Whys ‘n’ wherefores that mattered not a jot when Jake’s hips spasmed and he did coming. Lots of coming…filling Phin up, and his whole self with shimmery waves of warm wonder. 

“Hmmm…” Phin sighed when Jake smudged a kiss—not between his shoulder blades as he had before—but to each one in turn. In a tender sort of way, as if he were doing kissing it better. There was nothing amiss though, so Phin had possibly lost his plotalot. The least surprising part of the day, it must be admitted and thus, not a jot perturbing. Jake’s lips felt like squishy satin cushions that sent sparkles across Phin’s skin like fuzzy static. “I’m lots more than okay, afore you do asking, Mr. Fussalot,” he informed Jake. So very okay, in fact, that Phin longed to do the jackal-with-jammy-whiskers sound Foxy—Jack—made while having his ears stroked.

“Mr Fussalot? I am cut to the quick,” Jake sniffed. “Might I remind you that I could shred you with my teeth if I felt a bit peckish?”

“I should p’raps do getting you some bones from the butchers for when you fancy a snack.” 

“Thanks.” Jake’s chuckle skittered along Phin’s spine as he peeled their sticky skin apart, coshing it with a clutch of cold air in his stead.

After scrambling around to do stretching out on the bed, Phin lay, blinking against the glare of the floodlight lamp. Crikey…it was cruel. The duvet was not; the cool cotton felt luscious, so Phin did wriggling a bit, luxuriating in its coarse caress.

“Are you quite comfy?” Jake smirked, quirking an arch eyebrow.

“Yes, thank you…” Phin grinned, “…except for that bloomin’ lamp. It’s brutal…doesn’t it do burning your eyeballs? Mine are screaming and it’s not even orange. Just silver-sharp, like a strobe light. Is…Jack happy, Jake…?”

“It’s a bit bright, but I’m used to it, I guess,” Jake’s shrug was a tad…shifty, but Phin forgot to do mentioning that when he continued, “You know he is…” 

“I wanted to hear you do saying it…I might have been hoping too hard.”

“He is too happy for his own good,” Jake sighed.

“What makes you think he’s too much happy?” Phin asked, turning onto his side, facing Jake. Who did staring down at the duvet as if waiting for it to do something interesting when he replied;

“Because…he doesn’t deserve to be.” 


Jake snapped his head up to do spearing Phin with a blue that glistened like sunlit frost. “I was talking about Jack,” he growled.

“Exactly.” Phin’s smile felt upside down, even though it wasn’t. He could almost taste the tension seeping from Jake’s pores. It was tart…sort of salt ‘n’ vinegary. “You smell like a bag of chips.”

“Chips!?” Jake snorted. “How the hell did you segue from salty quips to chips?”

“P’raps I’m hungry. I’m partial to a chip buttie.” Phin did hedging because he didn’t think Jake would fancy being told he smelled bitter. It was p’raps on par with telling someone their bum looked big in that.

“Hungry, you might well be…but you’re still fibbing.”

“How can I be doing fibbing if I am hungry?” Phin frowned, a bit befuddled. It sounded a tad tricky to tell a truthful lie. He had managed far less probable mishaps, but a fudge was not a fib. 

“Because I can smell it,” Jake stated. Phin was willing to bet it didn’t do reeking of fish ‘n’ chips.

“What is the smell of fibbing?” he wondered. Aloud.

“Er…tainted?” Jake decided before adding, “As if the wrong spice has been added…a pinch of paprika rather than say…cinnamon.” 

“I could kill for an apple crumble, I’m starving,” Phin groaned when his guts did unleashing a loud grumble.

“I don’t doubt it.”

“I don’t whiff of fibbing?” Phin guessed.

Not a jot. C’mon, let’s get you fed…” Jake did springing off the bed as if Phin would starve t’death if he didn’t shift himself sharpish. The scoundrel had shrugged on his bathrobe before Phin had even done scraping himself off the duvet. Dang. A spot of naked cheffing would’ve been the finest appetiser on Earth. Perhaps too much so, Phin fessed up (to himself) as he might forget to do remembering his rumbly belly. 

Jake snagged a second robe from the hook on the back of the door and tossed it to Phin, so he did shrugging it on before following downstairs to the kitchen. When Jake flicked the switch, Phin couldn’t help but do wincing as the lights burst to life, like spear points of heat pinging off Phin’s skin.

“Oow! It’s too much!” He screwed his eyes tight shut and did cringing from the circle of overhead spots, but they were coshing him from all angles. Jake snapped them off sharpish and the scorch of scarlet faded to black behind Phin’s eyelids. “Thank you…sorry.”

“S’okay…you can open them again now.” 

Phin felt the air shift, warming when Jack closed the distance between them. His husky sunshine scent seemed to do stroking Phin’s skin. Lust blazed through his body like a comet across the night sky, then a thud did crashing against Phin’s ears as a startled grunt vibrated through his body. The shaft of pain that shot down his spine was weird, when he was sure it wasn’t doing hurting.

Skin...he needed skin. Phin only realised that Jake was somehow flat on his back—on the floor—beneath him while shifting a smidge to loosen the belt on his robe. He would have to do figuring that out later; all that mattered to Phin was Jake’s scent and the craving to be closer to it.

“Phin…” Hm, his voice…was a velvet caress. It made Phin’s ears do quivering in response, like snare drums tuned to its timbre. Raw need was doing clawing his guts when he wrenched the fronts of Jake’s robe apart, revealing the gleaming gold of his chest.

“Gnnrrr…” Phin swooped and melded his mouth to Jake’s skin, smearing across it to the tempting twinkle of a nipple. When he flicked his tongue over its tightened bud, Jake did groaning; a sound as intoxicating as the salt ‘n’ sex taste of his flesh. It was desire so dark, compelling, it did consuming all else, as if Phin’s entire world had narrowed to Him.

“Phin…fuck…” Jake gasped as his hips flexed off the floor, distracting Phin from his sudden skin fetish. Redirecting his focus to the hard ridge of heat doing drilling into his stomach. After a swift slither down his body, Phin’s lids flared wide when his gaze alighted on feverish flesh. He could see the blood doing pulsing through Jake’s veins; his husky musk so strong, it seemed to do seeping into Phin’s very pores. Ensnaring every sense. His fingers were trembling when Phin reached out to trail their tips along the length of Jake’s cock. He sucked in a sharp breath when it did twitching off his belly, as if its beady eye was looking for more.

It didn’t need to do asking twice. Phin had wrapped his lips around its hilt before the racket that crawled up his throat had done making its bid for freedom. His taste buds exploded in a fizzy frenzy like Fun Snaps going off in his mouth when Phin flattened his tongue against silk-sheathed steel to do dragging his head back. Oh, so slowly…he savoured every inch, then did lapping up the pearl of come that glistened at its tip. 

“GNRRHH…” Phin flicked his gaze upwards when that groar of sound ripped from Jake’s lips. Instantly enthralling…it did ringing with the timbre of a demand. A split-second later Phin found himself flipped onto his back and straddled by a Jake who parked himself astride his hips, eyes ablaze with topaz flame.

“So beautiful…” Phin raised his arm to do touching Jake’s face but he shot out a hand and trapped Phin’s wrist. When he did ghosting his nose across its underside it felt as if Jake was drinking in the finest of wines. 

“Mine…” His husky rasp was the sound of grit ground against glass. Jake started to do tracing the tiny network of veins with the tip of his tongue. The shivers of flame that flared up his Phin’s arm was all pleasure, not pain, but still felt as if he were being branded. 

It was with a sudden surge that Jake did springing to his feet, then bent to scoop Phin off the floor. After carrying him through the open door, Jake did kicking a second one open and strode across the…front room before lowering him on the soft tufts of a hearthrug. Phin couldn’t help but do a wriggle, its furry tickle was too tempting to resist.


“Fuck…look at you…” Jake seemed to be talking to himself, so Phin didn’t bother to do staring downwards. He’d seen plenty enough of that particular view and would rather do gazing at Jake.

Phin could see him quite well, despite the fact Jake hadn’t done turning any more floodlights on. His lithe body was aglow with soft hues—not etched in harsh shades of daytime—like the warm caress of candlelight. Illuminating Jake’s proud bone structure and shadowing the hollows of honeyed skin stretched taut over lean muscle. He was magnificent. ‘Mine’. And Phin was his.




Beast of Bodmin Moor 33

I’m sorry I’ve taken so long…here are the next three parts.




The Beast of Bodmin Moor





“That doesn’t look very comfy…” Phin murmured, glancing down at Jake’s cock after throwing an excessive leg across his own. It sure as hell wasn’t; it looked about fit to burst.

Like an overcooked sausage. Phin fed me four, by the way…so you’d better not fuck this up. Or they might have unfortunate after effects. On your best rug…just sayin.

Would Jake ever be able to say ‘no’ to those eyes? To that face? It might have been carved from marble with the express purpose of driving Jake to distraction…and Jack wherever Phin wanted to go. Two lunatics at the steering wheel, careering wildly without a care in the world, as Jake sat cussing from the back seat, fists clenched white-knuckle tight.

There’d been a bit of banter between being lassoed by the leg and flinging himself at Phin—who was now flat on his back on the bed beneath him—but Jake couldn’t begin to recall it. Not while plastered across acres of silken flesh, cocks crushed together by the weight of his own body. A fact so deranging, Jake couldn’t even remember snatching up Phin’s wrists. Or pinning them to the pillow either side of his head. 

“…So tell me, what exactly have you been waiting to do?” Jake all-but growled.

“Anything. Everything. All of it. All of you.”

“Gnrh, you already have us…and you know it.”

“No…I don’t. Foxy p’raps…but not you.”

“He is me.” Jake groaned. Fuck. He’d never even admitted that to himself…or perhaps he had. Despite never accepting it, let alone owning it aloud.

“Jack…” Phin brushed his name—their name—across Jake’s lips. As if in affirmation.

Lust razed denial to dust, blazing through his veins as their their mouths melted together and tongues entwined. The hunger was voracious; as naked as their need, untainted by the bitter tang of fear. Impossible to defer, let alone defy. They would never be able to deny Phin anything….and both knew it. They were tethered as tightly as if they’d been collared with a choke-chain and leash. Willingly. 

Jake had sprung off Phin’s body and flipped him onto his front before he’d registered his own intent. Unperturbed to abruptly find himself with a face-full of pillow, Phin just chuckled. After hoisting his hips up, Jake swiped a lingering lick along the sensitive seam of skin behind Phin’s balls, luxuriating in their mingled scents; a cocktail so potent it dragged a  groan from the very depths of Jake’s guts.


The gentle breeze of cool air he blew across damp skin sent a shiver rippling through Phin’s muscles and made his back bow, beckoning Jake on. When he slipped a finger inside, to ensure that…all was well, Phin was slick with his own come. A thought so erotic it was all he could do to repress a howl. Much to Jack’s frustration; having no recourse to voice the exhilaration coursing through their veins. Or express it with the degree of reverence it deserved.

“Jake…please…” Phin gasped, straining towards him.

“Okay. Just don’t forget to do remembering,” Jake warned. Pointlessly.


Jake could almost hear him rolling those inimitable eyes. “Monster,” he snorted. A retort that triggered naught but the wiggle of Phin’s arse. As incorrigible as it was incendiary .

“Was that intended as a comment…or a hint?”

“My bum is doing multi-tasking, methinks.”

Jake spluttered, blasting Phin with such an explosion of spittle-peppered air it prompted a sound not far from a squeal.

“You’re lethal enough without a multi-tasking arse, thank you very much.”

“Hurry up then, daftie, so it can do concentrating on one thing.”

An excellent point, it must be admitted.

This admissions lark was getting horribly out of hand. Strewth, it was a bloody good job Jake wasn’t Catholic. Confession would sure as hell unleash the batshit in the belfry.






Phin was strung so tight, he could scarce contain himself; every sense was fizzing with expectation, his heart as full as his body felt hollow. Aching with anticipation, hunger clawing at his guts, a gnawing need sharpened by fear. Ratcheted to teeth shattering intensity by the agonising awareness of being gifted something too precious, too perfect to be meant for him. Something that would be snatched away long before Phin could bear it, let alone survive its loss.

It was far too late to turn tail and flee, it had been from the off. He’d been ensnared from the second he’d found himself beset by the quiver of wonder that shivered through his veins whenever he happened upon a new enchantment. He could feel it…the twinkly promise of a new passion shimmering on the horizon. Mr Neil called them obsessions; which sounded horribly like too much. Quite why he felt it necessary to point out such piffle, Phin knew not. It wasn’t a problem unless it looked likely to kill him off, but no-one popped their clogs while reading too much poetry, did they? He could p’raps do eating too much doughnuts. If only in grammatical crime terms.

There was one distinct difference; his new passions tended to do shimmering into being…almost while Phin wasn’t paying attention. But this one had sprung forth all guns ablazin’ with a rootin’ tootin’ pizzazz snaffled from Calamity Jane. Phin would be slapping his thigh and sporting a jaunty bandana before the week was out, if matters progressed apace. As obsessions went it was surely better for his welfare than insisting on cream-to-fawn hued food, so not even Mr Neil could have himself a grumble. It was a splendid way to burn off excess energy too…and scoffing a smidge too much shortbread.


Phin was partial to the new position he found himself in, which p’raps mirrored the mind’s eye imaginings that had installed themselves on a flicker-frame loop in his head. There was a mite more to it than that, though. Being on all fours in such a flagrant fashion felt more delicious than was seemly to admit. It felt divinely…decadent. In advance. Thus, Phin couldn’t help but do hoping that the (not a jot virtual) reality would whup the ass of his darkest dreams. As turns of phrase went, that was a corker. 

Jack gripped his hip with one hand and bent to press a kiss between his shoulder blades as he steadied himself between Phin’s thighs. He could scarce do holding still, so…pressing was the urge to slam back. The world ‘impale’ was possibly a tad unseemly, so Phin didn’t do thinking it. 

“Aaaahh!” His head sure did snapping back when Jake barnstormed his body with a scorch of all-consuming fullness that snatched his breath away. Alongside Phin’s expectations, which hadn’t been excessive enough. A shock that should have sent his system into hypersomething-or-other, but it was too busy being blissy to care a stuff. Thisss… It was more…even than before, in the absence of the burn; which seemed a smidge strange when his bum had been through a fair bit more than customary of late. It would have been quite entitled to feel a mite miffy on the salt in the wound front (or backside) but nope. The scoundrel all-but offered Jake’s cock a glass of sherry and a mince pie, as if it was Santa come down the chimney.

Jake let rip with a rumbly roar that skittered up Phin’s spine when he plunged into his body. A sound so exhilarating—exhilarated—his whole self felt lit up like a Christmas tree. A toe-tingling life-force almost too much to contain. Phin was forced to do gritting his teeth and holding on, or he’d have gone off like a firework. On the 4th of November.

Remember, remember to do remembering. Pfft. There was no price too much to pay for this…






Jake dragged in a deep breath, anticipation glinting like light off a dagger blade. A feral growl shredded his throat when he flexed his hips to thrust hilt deep into Phin’s body. “Aaaahh…” Whose cry was pure pleasure, unclouded by pain. Only its absence was present in his scent. The bow of Phin’s spine was fluid, as if forged from the liquid fire flooding every fibre of Jake’s being. 

“‘Kay?” He gasped, forcing himself to stillness, despite the screeching insistence of his own need and the clawing urgency of Jack’s. Or vice versa, Jake couldn’t tell. His entire self, too consumed by Phin to care. There was only Him, could only ever be him. A knowledge as irrevocable as it was bone-deep.

The scent shimmering off Phin’s skin was akin to inhaling flame. As intoxicating as it was life-giving. Jake’s nostrils flared in recognition of a truth he could no longer deny. Jack had never tried, of course, a fact Jake had been hell-bent on blanking. Intent on blissful ignorance. Jackals mate for life. Plural. Phin smelled of home and hearth; of flickering warmth on a bitter winter night. It was far too late now. It had been from the very first.

I hope you have. I’d like that…

Words as innocent as Phin, before Jake clutched him to his heart; he held both close, and eased back before burying himself home…sweeter than cinnamon sticks on a roaring fire…home. 

“Yesss…” Phin’s sigh caressed Jake’s ears as if he’d done the fondling thing. “Jack… Harder!” he demanded, clenching steel-jaw-trap tight. Jack whimpered, champing at the bloody bit, eyes ablaze like driftwood flame. All primal power, tethered by…time to come. Mine.

Grasping Phin’s waist, Jake ground himself deeper into blinding bliss. Seeking solace in oblivion. Shielding him from the knowledge scorched on his subconscious. Branded soul-deep. Heat everywhere, entwining them together, binding them fast.

“Jake…stop holding back…” Phin begged, squirming with insistence. Jake’s spine snapped forwards; subterranean-self-propelled, their gaze laser-sight bright. Trained like twin targets on the porcelain expanse of Phin’s back…like the budding points of wings, rather than the fate they’d doomed him too.

Doomed my arse. You can’t do deciding that for him—Phin didn’t need to—never does, he told you that from the off. Listen. Heed his words, even if mine count for fuck all. Count your lucky stars, rather than extinguishing their right to exist…

Ignobly less difficult to do when engulfed in ecstasy, drowning in too-much-never-enough of everything, to comprehend even half of it. Driven by sheer instinct, Jake gave himself up to the necessity of them; of here, now, this night. Senses reeling in a blur of sensation…yet each was distinct, sharply defined. Every tendon tugged taut, as finely tuned as harp strings. Muscles, a fluid glide of sinew over bone. His gaze still riveted to Phin’s back; a palette of ivory pearl, stained azure; an opalescent gleam of satin skin.

Never had Jake’s hearing seemed so keen; attuned to every ripple in the swirl of sound, the slap of skin, the sublime sigh of flesh as it slid to and fro, the soft cries flitting from Phin’s lips, every guttural groan wrenched from his own. 

“Phin…” His breath shivered along the serrated sweep of Phin’s spine when Jake bent low, rolling his hips, holding him close. Glorying in the strong, sure pound of Phin’s heartbeat, pumping precious blood through his veins.

“Jake, please…do coming…” Curling his arm beneath him, he wrapped his hand around Phin’s cock and dragged his hips back. “Jaacck!” all but howled with triumph when they rattled off a few short sharp strokes that made their name claw the walls and their senses sing a song as ancient as time. Phin spilled through Jake’s fingers in a shuddering rush, trembling beneath him as Jake’s vision splintered, shattering in light-shot shards too intense for human eyes.

“Phin!” Jake hollered as he did coming. Excessively…as befitted its destination. 

A mate worthy of no less.





Beast of Bodmin Moor 32

The Beast of Bodmin Moor







A gravelly groan rumbled in Jake’s throat when he did lowering himself onto Phin’s body, sealing their sweat-sticky skin together. The scent of sex hung heavy in the air; a husky musk so sublime, Phin never wanted to do washing again. He wanted to wear it forever. It wreathed around them like incense; as heady as swirls of smoke. So tangible, Phin felt as if he might do reaching out to trail his fingers through it.

Phin wrapped his arms around the heavy heat pressing him to the bed and hooked his legs around Jake’s, entwining their calves. When plush lips descended, it was a lush smudge of melting mouths and tangled tongues.

“Did I hurt you…more than you expected?” Jake’s voice was gritty with worry, his gaze searchlight bright.

“No… it did burning at first, but I soon forgot to do remembering.”

“And now…?”

“Now? I’m very fine.” Phin assured him, eyes wide, unblinking, allowing blowtorch blue to do boring holes in his soul.

“Without a doubt, but are you also very…sore?” Jake persisted, narrowing his gaze as if to do probing with laser precision.

“Sore?” Phin did pondering for a mo, for appearances sake. “No…I thought I might be, but nope. Should I be?”

“Yeah… I wonder—” When Jake broke off, Phin could almost hear his cogs do whirring. “That seems probable…”

“What does?”

“When I…did filling you up, it may have...soothed matters.” Jake sounded more than a bit bashful, which was as adorable as it was incongruous. Being a bad-ass beastie, an’ all. 

“So, we don’t have to do waiting?” Phin’s gaze felt as if it should be as glinty as Jake’s, like brown set ablaze rather than burnt umber. 

“I couldn’t say no, even if I wanted to…” The low rumble that vibrated against Phin’s chest felt as if it came from his own. Almost a growl, but not quite; more of a foxy purr.

“Is Foxy okay, Jake? Did he…is he happy?”

“Happy? So much so, he segued straight to smug.”

“Well, you did make him do waiting for nothing, so I’d say he’s entitled to be, but that would also sound a mite smug, so I won’t.”

“It’s a good job you didn’t do saying it then, isn’t it?” Jake smirk sabotaged his attempt to do looking cross, but his brows furrowed in the middle when he asked, “Phin…D’you feel…different?”

“Of course I do, I don’t feel like a virgin. Jake? Was it…disappointing, for you…? I didn’t know what I should be doing…” Phin trailed off, scrabbling in his stash of words for ones that wouldn’t do sounding as stupid as he felt.

“Fuck no. NO. Never, ever think that, your body sure as hell did, for a start. I don’t know how it felt for you…but for me? I’ve never felt so…damn. Much. Too much…in the best of ways. Phin…never think that’s a ‘bad’ thing, I don’t give a shit what you’ve been told, it’s the very thing I love mo—” It sounded as if the rest of Jake’s sentence had been bitten off before he could do saying it. Why? Had he realised it would suggest more than he meant? Was he worried that Phin would do assuming too much? In the wrong way?

“It’s okay…” Phin assured him. “I know that’s called a ‘turn of phrase’. I’m not supposed to do interpreting those literally.”

“Fuck. No. I-I need a drink, I’ll be back in a sec—” Jake almost flipped himself off Phin’s body and landed so lightly the whoosh of air left in his wake was louder. When the click of the lamp switch did flooding the room with fluorescence, Phin flinched and slammed his lids shut. It felt akin to staring straight into the sun.

“Sorry. Won’t be a mo…” Jake swished from the room, one of the most delicious sights Phin had ever seen, despite his blazing eyeballs. Blimey…how many watt-nots were in that bulb? A thousand? It was too intense to do getting accustomed to, so Phin did averting his head and propped their pillows against the headboard to lean against. Jake came back in a matter of moments, clutching two brimming tumblers of amber liquid. Whiskey. Phin had no idea how he could tell, until Jake did handing him a glass and he caught a concentrated whiff of its contents.

“When I asked if you felt different…” Jake began, after sinking down to sit beside Phin, “I…didn’t mean in…the way you expected to. I’m worried that you might…”

“Turn foxy?” Phin supplied, not a jot surprised. He knew Jake must have feared consequences he hadn’t done admitting to. He’d been fretting about far more than mad-axing. It was the future he’d been afraid of, not Phin’s lack of one. 

“Yes. Foxy is a jackal…hence ‘Jack’. I’m sorry I lied…about my name…and the rest of it. I was terrified of losing you, no matter how selfish that made me. I’m so sorry, Phin. If I hadn’t healed your head the moment we…met, I wouldn’t have been able to justify so much as kissing you. It was already too late, if my saliva could…infect you. I was too afraid you’d bleed to death, to consider the consequences. It was my fault you fell…I had to at least try and clean it up, the gash was all crusted with grit. I should never have let it go further, but…I’ve done nothing but fill you with…body fluids ever since, as Jack so helpfully pointed out. I loathe myself more than you could ever hate me…which is no consolation, I know.”

Jack...it’s perfect. I’m glad he has a proper name. Oh, I’ve done addressing him a lot, haven’t I? I kept getting your names in a muddle. I knew he wasn’t a wolf and he’s the wrong colour for a fox…but by the time I saw him close up, he was already Foxy in my head. I don’t hate you, either of you, y’daftie…that’s as far from true as possible.” After a brief pause, Phin added, as airy as can be,  “I hope I do.” 

“What?!” Jake did spluttering whiskey through his nose. Oouch, that must sting something chronic.

“You would’ve heard, even if I’d done whispering it, which I didn’t, so ‘what’ off. I hope you have, I’d like that. But Jake….it’s not a full moon, so you can’t be a were-jackal, surely? You seem to do changing whenever you wish…like a shape-shifter. Isn’t it supposed to be…hereditary?”

“I dunno, what makes you so sure?” Jake asked, shooting Phin a surprised side-eye.

“You don’t know? I read it. Werewolves have infectious bites, but shape-shifting seems to be inherited…well, it is in the books I’ve read, anyhoo. Can your family do changing?”

“No. I grew up amongst hippies, not a pack of jackals. My sister hasn’t shifted, she would have told me, without a doubt. I would be able to sense it now…even if I’d been oblivious back then. As for the rest of my family? My mum would have had us paying homage to the jackal gods every damn dawn at a candle-lit shrine…if we’d survived the sheer stench of joss-stick fumes,” Jake snorted.

“Jake…haven’t you done telling anyone?” Phin winced, when his heart did wrenching. “You’ve lived with this alone?

His head was abuzz with a zillion questions he wanted to ask—about how and why and what and where—but Jake seemed to know less than Phin. How the bejeezus had he done managing that? Phin would have done scouring out every scrap of legend and lore he could find. That didn’t matter a jot though, compared to the fact Jake had done suffering it alone.

“It’s not something you can announce at dinner, is it? They’d think I’d lost my marbles, I’d probably wake up in a straight-jacket. My dad would rather know less truths about his son, not more.” His voice was so bitter with self-loathing Phin could almost taste it.

“How I wish you’d had someone. It must have been terrifying…if you didn’t know what was happening. P’raps worse to be alone when you did.” Words seemed useless and might be unwelcome. What could Phin say when he didn’t know how Jake felt? How it felt? He could only spout platitudes that might make Jake want to do biting his head off just to shut Phin up. He placed his hand over the thigh twitching beside his own and did sliding it back and forth, which was supposed to be soothing. Um, no one had ever mentioned naked comforting methods; Jake sure didn’t seem to find it ‘soothing’. He sucked in a sharp breath as his cock did springing to attention. Blimey. It was like a jack in the box. Mm...

“Crikey, does that…happen a lot?” Phin wondered, scrolling through a flicker book of images; chock full of times when Jake must’ve been half-crippled in his skinny jeans.

“It does…of late.” The blue swirled with a luminescence that wasn’t caused by his strobe-light lamp. “Not before…but then, he didn’t want anyone else.”


“Yes. The night…it happened…she said ‘I found you‘. As if she’d been searching for me. I didn’t exactly think it through…but it didn’t seem so strange, in context. I was stoned…and could barely believe my luck. It just felt…necessary.”

Necessary?” The word did ringing with recognition in Phin’s head, where it had so recently pinged into place.

“Yes. It felt somehow…inevitable, despite being such a brief…encounter. It was purely physical, I didn’t even know her name. Nor did I wonder who she was, or why she wanted me…I didn’t think at all. I was at Glastonbury, stoned on fuck knows what. It was just sex. I’ve never longed to see her again since that night, it wasn’t like…this. It just felt necessary, in that moment. I wasn’t even disappointed when I woke alone.”

“You didn’t want to see her again…even for more sex?” Phin asked, staggered. The thought of Jake leaving made a sharp pain do stabbing his insides.

“No. Which was the strangest thing of all. Briefly. I was…relieved. I felt wretched, the last thing I wanted was a morning-after-the-night-before post mortem. Christ, that sounds harsh…but she chose me. Then walked away. As much as I wanted it to happen, I didn’t instigate it, or bugger off while she was asleep.” Jake didn’t sound upset, just sort of resigned. But then, his eyes abruptly sparked as if he’d done sticking his finger in the socket. 

“What’s wrong…?”

“I…crap. Is that how you feel? Now that…you’ve scoffed your sandwich? Could you drive off without a backward glance tomorrow? Tell me the truth.” Jake pleaded, ensnaring Phin’s gaze with blazing blue. Twin laser beams boring holes into his head.

“No. I wanted to do scoffing it, even if it was the last thing I ever did. I wasn’t fibbing when I said I’d rather be dead than stop…that’s how necessary it felt. I still feel that way. If you’re gone when I wake up—which would be a bit weird, cos you live here—but all the same, I would be devastated. Bummer, I shouldn’t have done telling you that…it was inconsiderate,” Phin winced and tried to do amending his words with ones every bit as true. “I wouldn’t do blaming you though, I wouldn’t want to put up with me either.”

“It wasn’t inconsiderate, Phin…I asked you how you felt, you told me. I’m glad you did… I—fuck, everything I want to say sounds too much. More than you’d want to hear.”

“That’s impossible…my ears are as greedy as the rest of me. You couldn’t do wanting too much. If it was something new I might do fretting about doing it wrong…or letting you down, but that’s my bad, not yours. I want you, all of you… Less would feel too scratchy to do bearing…it would drive me demented. That is much too much wanting,” Phin owned, dipping his head to do staring at the duvet snarled in his clutches.   

“Phin…you can’t know how you’ll feel, if—”

“Yes I can. I always know how I’ll feel, even if I haven’t done it or it hasn’t happened before. I can…picture it in advance, which sounds daft, but it’s still true. It’s like…virtual feeling? It always matches the reality anyhoo…much the same as feeling colours. I don’t think about that either, I just can,” Phin shrugged. “Do you want to do more talking or…” He turned onto his side a smidge more and threw a leg across Jake’s thighs. “That doesn’t look very comfy…” he noted, glancing downwards, with eyes every bit as greedy as Jake’s jack-in-the-box cock.

“Already…?” He was definitely doing teasing. There was no negating that.

“Well…I did do waiting for a long time,” Phin sighed.

“It was only a few days.” Jake smirked.

“It wasn’t. I’ve done waiting forever for you.”


“Yes, please.” Phin grinned, blinking a bit. 

He found himself flat on his back almost before he saw Jake spring forwards. Plastered to the bed by the wondrous weight of Jake’s body; a scorch of skin and clash of cocks that snatched his breath away. His wrists seemed to be pinned to the pillow either side of his head, somehow. Crikey, Jake was fast…and so many other things Phin could only do guessing at. A whole world of possibilities he’d never done dreaming of. That was p’raps for the best, on the freedom to do so front.

“Forever, huh? It seems I have a lot of lost time to make up for…so tell me, what exactly have you been waiting to do?”

“Anything. Everything.” Phin smiled, gazing up into a blue ablaze with wonderment. As if he was extraordinary, when Phin had never felt less exceptional in his life. A gift in itself. “All of it. All of you…




Beast of Bodmin Moor 31

The Beast of Bodmin Moor





Phin was a revelation. Within seconds, Jake realised that he’d expected his ethereal sprite to be all molten limbs and soft sighs. Phin, as ever, belied belief. He was a force of nature, ferocious with need. Every bit as insatiable as he was incorrigible.

“Stop doing fretting, Foxy won’t hurt me…Mmore…”

Listen to him, f’chrissakes. Even if you’re too bloody-minded to admit I’d rather drop dead than hurt a hair on his head.

How he’d ached to heed Phin’s pleas, but Jake hadn’t trusted himself any more than Jack’s word. The mutt was too wily to ‘do believing’, too instinctive to vow bugger-all. His ‘word’ meant nothing, the pub car park had proved that. In full, inglorious technicolour with surround sound. At least there he’d had space to ensure Phin’s safety. As opposed to buried balls deep in his body, without so much as a hairsbreadth of room in which to err. This, alongside irises that gleamed with inhuman luminosity—azure rather than amber—in readiness. Casting an ominous glow over Phin’s angel face, bleaching it of life; except for those eyes—ablaze with dark fire. Devouring all else.

Refusing to cede to their dual demands had felt a helluva lot like trying to read The Guardian while sitting on a deck chair in a hurricane. Jake had been afraid of failing Phin on two legs, from the very start..but the true terror? Finishing on four. 

“Stop doing fretting. Foxy won’t hurt me.”

How had Phin been so sure? Jake sure as shit hadn’t been. But it was Phin whose instincts proved finer-tuned than Jake’s, supposedly supernatural, faculties. When his subterranean self had shimmered to the forefront, as he’d known damn well it would, the outcome that so terrorised Jake hadn’t torn Phin apart. The very same shiver of heat that charged the air seemed…somehow changed. Rather than ride roughshod over Jake and imperil Phin; the raw, primal power had enveloped them, untouched at the eye of the storm.

The only ‘shift’ Jake’s deranged senses had been able to detect was subtle, in the base notes of his own scent…and a distinct difference in Phin’s. Impending orgasm? Impossible to tell with liquid flame coursing through his veins and a torrent of far too much infusing his every breath. Inevitable, when Phin was too much personified and Jake was buried in his body. A Phin whose extensive vocabulary had been tossed overboard in favour of one word—morrrre—wielded far too frequently with nary a care for consequence whatsoever. Of course.

They would have ripped him in half if they’d done as Phin demanded. Even Jake’s furry foe, who’d been dead set on doing Phin’s bidding from the moment they met—

Your civil war is too tedious for words. You’d already be bloody ‘furry’, you blithering idiot, if that’s what we wanted.

There is no We.

Keep telling yourself that and fuck this up too, then. Why change the habits of a lifetime for something as horrifying as happiness? To be honest, I’d be inclined to agree if his didn’t matter more than yours. Selfish tosspot.

Jack had never felt closer to the surface of Jake’s conscious self, which was terrifying. A thought so sinister it made a mockery of the fact Jack seemed…strangely calm. Not least when Jake had been terrified the jackal would seize the chance to snatch back the reins. Instead? Jake found himself no longer sure where he ended and Jack began. Or where they ended and Phin began.

How the hell Jack—hot-wired into doing Phin’s bidding—had managed to deny them both, Jake couldn’t fathom. Despite every indication to the contrary (and excruciating lesson learned), the realisation that he couldn’t hold out a second longer didn’t prove the horror show Jake had dreaded. Save for the destination of an orgasm so befittingly excessive it felt intent on turning him inside out…and quite capable of killing one of them. At least. 

Jake had determined on pulling out. Denying himself that much had been his last hope, when it became clear that was the only option he had left. His solitary means of safeguarding Phin, for every reason that suggested itself. Two in particular. First and foremost, Jake hadn’t been convinced that Jack could—or worse, would—contain himself in its throes, when it mattered most and Jake was least able to keep a grip on himself. Secondly—if only in survival terms—was averting what seemed the most surefire way of ensuring that Phin’s life, as he knew it, was over. 

Jake had done his damnedest. That he could vow, on pain of death.

Ever the hero… 

Why Jack? WHY?

Why not, when it was too late? 

Too late?

From the first. Before the first. Don’t plead innocence, it doesn’t become you. You knew. Except for being so bloody stubborn—to punish yourself, I might add—you’ve done bugger all to bypass your ‘worst fear’. Slobber in an open wound? Allowing Phin to swallow your load? You’ve done little else but fill him with body fluids since the moment we met. Intravenous infusion? Check. Ingestion? Check. How the bejeezus did you fool your batshit brain into believing that coming over all Catholic would ‘safeguard’ Phin from the ‘fate’ you claim to abhor? 

Claim?  I loathe you with every fibre of my fucking being. Was it imperative to all-but shatter his bones, t’boot? 

There is not a bruise on Phin’s body, and you know it. Nor have his bones ever been less likely to ‘shatter’. Let’s humour you for a mo, though—in which case—Phin would still bound out of bed, as right as rain in the morning. Now, if you’ve quite finished being tedious for five minutes? I have some wallowing in afterglow to attend to…

Quite aside from ‘wallowing in afterglow’, which inhabits a realm beyond ridicule: Tedious? You’ve been watching way too much Sherlock.

Well, that’s one thing less for you to fret about. We have our very own luscious legs to salivate over now. Just sayin.

Couldn’t you at least use ‘lust’, you slathering mutt?

Nope. Gild your own lilies all you like, lightweight.


This torrent of inanity rioted around Jake’s head at warp speed in the few seconds Jake spent with his forehead pressed to a silken expanse of sweat-slick chest. Breathing Phin in, listening the hectic beat of his heart slow, steady to a sure, strong rhythm. 

Residual fear plagued Jake’s conscience, despite every sense insisting that Phin was as healthy as a—assuredly not a horse. More to the point, Jake could smell that he was as fit as a fiddle (a far less foreboding simile). It wasn’t so much the absence of blood—nor the scent spattered in silvery trails across porcelain skin—but the cinnamon-infused husky musk of…satisfaction. Sweeter than Jake’s own: Irish Cream to their Whiskey. 

Phin…are you okay?”

“Hmmm…very okay. I won’t say told ya so though, cos that would be unseemly.”

“You are incorrigible…and quite shameless,” Jake groaned, before abruptly lifting his head to glower at Phin with naked fear ablaze in his eyes. “You should have let me pull out. I could’ve killed you.”

“Oh parp. I didn’t want you to do pulling out. I wanted to feel you filling me up.”

If there was an answer to that, it sure as hell wasn’t about to suggest itself any time soon. Jack was no help. It clearly took dedication to maintain that much smug. 

With your record of being right, you probably shouldn’t bet on it. 

Left without a leg to stand on (cue snickers from the rear end), Jake figured it would be wise to utilize his tongue in a far more useful fashion. That was his excuse and he was sticking to it...before their skin suffered a similar fate. Not an altogether unfortunate prospect, it must be admitted, but somewhat…limiting. 

“Where are you gohmmm…” Phin’s query dissolved in a happy hum of sound when Jake’s shuffle backwards reaped its rewards. After lapping up every last drop he slid along spit-slick skin to tug a taut nipple with teasing teeth and torture its twin in turn. The first sent sharp hips snapping off the bed and the second clamped Phin’s palm to his nape.

“Jaake…” Tugged harder, eliciting a purr of pleasure so potent it made the mutt’s ears prick up and the rest of that sentence…a superfluous rearrangement of words. Already?

No way. Have you lost the plot? He won’t be able to sit down for a week, as it is. 

Obviously. That being about how long it took a grisly head wound to heal… 

Was the eye-roll necessary?

Some things are too satisfying to resist. Particularly when there’s no reason to…


“Yes, Phin?” Only a coma could have blinded Jake’s senses to the obvious…and even that didn’t seem a sure thing. 

“Does this….” Phin slid his free hand between their bodies and clamped it around Jake’s clearly up for seconds cock. “…mean we can do it again?”

“I’m beginning to fear you’ll be fighting me off with a broom before I’m done…” Jake owned, apparently done with all sense of decency. Human or otherwise.  “…which will be never.”

“I don’t do brooming.” Phin noted, after pondering that for a nanosecond. “I shake the rug outside to freshen it up a bit. Jake, I couldn’t be too much glad about that. I never ever, want you to do stopping…”




Beast of Bodmin Moor 30

The Beast of Bodmin Moor


ice-2575407_640📷 StockSnapPixabay




Oh, so slowly Jake slid his finger inside, sending white-hot shivers skittering here, there  ’n’ everywhere. Phin’s eyes did rolling back in his head, too dazed, dazzled and far too beset by hypermuch to do facing forwardslet alone their focussing thingany time soon. “Hhmorrre…” It felt sooo much better than Phin’s experimentings…but then, Jake made everything more magical, just by being Jake. Even the world seemed warmer, while bathing in blue.

“Y’okay?” Jake murmured, releasing Phin’s other hip to slip the hand beneath him and enclose his cock in a sure fist.


“Too much?”

“Jus…don’t move it.” Phin gasped. A dark chuckle tickled his back as Jake began to swivel the finger before starting a smooth sweep of back and forth, far too slow to endure for long. “Morrre…” The finger retreated and Phin held his breath, hoping harder than his cock; a feat in itself. One that reaped fruits aplenty when Jake inserted a second alongside the first. They did burning a bit, but it wasn’t a bad burn, more of a searing stretch. Their slowness was excruciating.

How the bejeezus Jake was supposed to do fitting, Phin had no idea. He was just getting used to wiggling digits doing a scissoring swirl when Jake did brushing a spot that made a bomb go off in Phin’s brain. It sure felt as if it had exploded when sparks sizzled up his spine and set off a fit of the fizzy fidgets and a swift visit to heaven, or thereabouts. “Jaaaake!” Phin screeched so loud he might have done blushing a bit if he wasn’t too busy doing visiting. “Please…” he panted, “Now…need, ah!

“You sure?”

“I was sure two days ago!” Phin squawked. Jake’s devilish chuckle accompanied an abrupt ache so hollow it was a shock to his system. He felt…bereft. “Jake?” His name sliced through the darkness with a razor sharp rush of something Phin couldn’t name.

“I’m here…” He bent low, hot breath breezing along Phin’s back before pressing a kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“’Kay. Sorry, I-I felt sort of…lost.”

“S’okay…I’ve got you.” His voice was a velvet caress. “Turn over…lie on your back.”

“But, I want—”

“I know. Trust me.” Words that oozed reassurance, ringing with surety.

“I do. I always did.”

“I seem to have a lot to live up to, tonight,” Jake sighed, as if he’d been called upon to pull off the impossible feat that was say…buttering a slice of toast. When Phin had shuffled around to flop onto his back, Jake crawled between his thighs and leaned over to grab a couple of pillows. He’d no sooner slipped a palm beneath Phin’s bum to lift it off the bed than done stuffing the pillows beneath it and lowering him onto them. “Is this better…?” Jake asked planting his hands beside Phin’s shoulders to dip his head and meld their mouths in a kiss as breath snatching as his finger shenanigans. 

“Hmm…I can see you…” Those eyes glowed like crystal ice caves in the darkness, illuminating Jake’s face.

“‘If we hook your legs over my shoulders you’ll feel more…secure. Bend your knees up a bit…” Jake clasped the backs of his thighs and hoisted them into place.

“Mm…I like the thought of having my legs wrapped around your neck.” Phin’s smile may have been his ‘cat’s-got-the-cream’ one.

“I very much like the thought of having your legs wrapped around my neck,” he chuckled. “D’you feel better now?” Jake leaned in low, pushing Phin’s thighs onto his chest when he bent to capture his lips.

“Much…” Phin answered, eventually. “Jake? Are you okay? Is Foxy?”

“Yeah. He thinks it’s about time I ‘quit arsing about and got on with it’. Apparently.”

“It’s p’raps a good plan to do listening then.” Phin did a sage nod, Yoda stylee.

“I do believe you’re right…” Jake’s voice dropped to deepest blue quartz.”If…if I hurt you, promise me— Just promise.” His eyes blazed topaz bright, blinding. Beyond beautiful. 

“I promise.” Phin rustled up a serene smile, and did crossing his fingers tight.


* * *





If…if I hurt you, promise me Just promise,” Jake glared, desperate to drill his words into that brilliant, baffling brain; now hell bent on surrendering Phin to the safekeeping of a predator. Said mutt was in complete accord with his wishes, of course, which assuredly proved Jake’s point.

“I promise.” Phin’s fallen angel face shone with sincerity. Radiant with wrecker’s lantern allure. Impossibly innocent. Irrational instincts (theirs) overruled rational reasons (Jake’s) why this was the worst idea in the world. Ever. Even as he acknowledged this, Jake knew damn well whose dark need had delivered the final verdict. He could tell himself till the end of forever that it had been decreed by a double-barrelled assault of eternal eyes and dogged determination, but it was all-too clear who’d put his foot in the snare…and left it there until it snapped shut.

Jack…please, keep him safe. I’d trade you the rest of the world for him.

Just. Trust.

Just trust? What sort of an answer is that? 

Did I do forgetting to say ‘yourself’? How remiss of me. 

Myself? It’s you who’s never once kept his shit together when it suited you otherwise.

Which proves my point.

Spouted by the font of wisdom forever intent on channelling Mutley or playing Riddle of the Sphinx.


Now that Jake had made the fateful decision (he hoped didn’t prove far too literal), it seemed he was hell-bent on flinging himself into it with gay abandon. The brutal truth being, of course, that Jake was guiltier than Double and Trouble put together. When he bent to press a kiss to lips that parted on a sigh, the scent of Phin’s breath snatched his own away. It was opium to their senses. As divine as it was deadly. There was only him.

There’ll only ever be him.

Is that some sort of soulmate shapeshifter crap?

Give me strength. As if.  

Jackals WHAT…?

You heard me.



Jackals ‘Mate For Life’. Apparently. That sure as hell formed an unholy trinity of truths:

  1. Unless Jack planned on a very brief happy ever after and life as a very lone jackal, then might Jake trust that Phin would live to regret it?
  2. Waking up with a sore arse would soon seem a rather transitory inconvenience. Upon finding himself mated for life with a mangy mutt.
  3. Or, at least until Phin ‘did sitting down’.


A low rolling growl (rudely) interrupted Jake’s inner—


Okay! F’fucksakes.


Just for the record? I am really weary of that word.






Jake p’raps intended his kiss to be some sort of promise. Or reassurance. A prelude to paradise. But when Phin parted his lips, the groan that vibrated against his mouth felt somehow…significant. It sounded like surrender, reverberating ’round the deepest of caves, too subterranean to deny. It tasted of lust. It felt as if something had shifted on its axis. It was a soul-scouring kiss that did clawing Phin’s guts. He’d never wanted anything this Too Much. If Jake dared do stopping now, then Phin would detonate from excessive too muchness. He was sure of it…which suggested that he’d possibly gone an itty bit bonkers. Even before factoring in the very doolally words doing a waft around his head.

“Make me yours, Jack…” That particular corker did airing itself before Phin could zip his lips.

The answering blaze of azure was a bolt of sheet lightning that lit Jack’s face in sharp relief, highlighting the proud planes of his cheekbones and noble nose. He’d never looked more otherworldly…majestic. It was impossible to do believing that Jack could want Phin as much as those eyes promised. Harder still, to credit meriting a need so intense it was crimson fire underscored with violet, as vivid as it was violent. But only in the very best of ways. A distinction Jake hadn’t been able to do recognising. Unless he finally had, on accounts that Phin’s legs were wrapped around his neck.

“Oh, I intend to..” His words were vermillion velvet, his breath as rich as port wine, which always made Phin’s mind misty.

The room was as dark as moonless midnight and Phin’s senses had switched to hyperswirl. Drenched in the amber musk of Jake’s scent, he may well have been lying in a woodland glade on a cushion of soft moss and rich earth, rather than a bed. 

Anticipation skittered through Phin’s veins a shivery rush when Jake settled the crooks of his knees more comfily on sinewy shoulders. When slick heat did ghosting along happy valley, a white hot bolt of want shot up Phin’s spine, obliterating all else—even the scratchy—when he felt a nudge of blunt pressure at the heart of dreams he’d feared might turn to dust.

“Jake!” He pleaded, about a scorch of pleasure pain before the tip of Jake’s cock breached his body. “Ahhh!” If that gush of breath hadn’t blasted out, Phin’s brain might’ve done combusting.

“Y’okay?” Jake’s voice sounded as if it was trapped in a vice.

“Yes. More.” Phin wanted him to do ripping the plaster off, it was too much suspense to do enduring a second longer. Jake was hell-bent on pushing oh, so slowly forwards, which was p’raps fortuitous but— A thought that did do biting the dust when the head of Jake’s cock did barnstorming the too tight ring of muscle barring his way. “Jaaake!” Phin possibly did making a most unseemly racket, but blimey, he felt huge. Akin trying to do shoving a sausage through the eye of a needle. Phin’s bum was bearing up admirably though, despite being a bit befuddled about the abrupt rerouting of traffic, but it was doing its best to be accommodating.

“Phooofff!” Phin puffed a whoosh of air; a very handy happenstance that made matters do relaxing a bit.

Jake? Did pressing on manfully (despite the caterwauling) besieging Phin with the most excruciating bliss that had ever vested itself upon his person. It was pain so exquisite, so all-consuming, it was a wonder they’d ever done letting it be legal. Or, at the very least, hadn’t rustled up a Bottom Breaching Tax to accompany the Tongue Tax.

Nothing Phin’s head had ever done dreaming up had felt this…decadent, despite his hyper-efforts to excel himself. Nor so…overwhelming; forbidden in the way only the most delectable of desires ever were. Could ever be. Compelling. The complete and utter annihilation of scratchy was an exhilaration too far. So much so, someone should have come bursting into the room to declare such antics too excessively excessive to tolerate. It was a torrent of too muchness encapsulated in one sublime thrust. 

Eclipsed, by the only man capable of conquering it with one blaze of bewitching blue.




Phin Pt 2


“Phin…y’okay?” Jake’s voice sounded as if he’d been gargling with gravel. 

“Hmmm…very okay. ” Phin scarce recognised his own, which he’d apparently snaffled from Serge Gainsbourg for the occasion. Except twice as strumpety and a smidge less French.  

Strewth s’tight. I should…apologise…in advance. It’s been a long…time… Not since—”

Apologise for the fact it had been a long time? It would have been a big fat fib for Phin to claim he wasn’t chuffed it had, but ‘sorry’ made even less sense from Jake’s perspective. Those bedazzling blues were too iridescent to stare into—let alone do reading—so Phin flicked his gaze to Jake’s lips. Clamped shut, his jaw clenched far too tight for comfort. Oh. He was worried about that? It would be a bloomin’ miracle if Phin lasted for more than a minute.

“Jake, it doesn’t matter. I just…want you. This.” Anything above and beyond the fact that Jake was inside him would be a bonus with a cherry on…bottom. 

“Y’have…shocking low expectations. Y’should…do working on that,” he groaned.

“I’ll tell Mr. Neil. Jake, pleease do more moving  before my head explodes.”

“It’s not the only…thing that might. Hence. The pause. In proceedings,” Jake managed to do grinding out. Eventually.

“Y’should have done pretending that you’re just ‘being a gent’.” Phin’s chuckle set off a chain reaction of ripples elsewhere; consequences so shiversome he couldn’t resist a spot of experimental clenching. “Hmmm…”

“Fuck! Phin!”

“Sorry! Was that wrong?”

Strewth. Nooooo…” Jack hissed, p’raps on accounts of his lockjaw. Oops. “Nngh! Sstop!” 

Okaay. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do concentrating very well though,” Phin noted.

“Don’t you dare do forgetting.” Jake all-but barked—in warning—which meant he still feared far less fun consequences. 

“Stop doing fretting. Foxy won’t hurt me.” Believing this was p’raps a bit barmy but that had never stopped Phin before…so he went with it. Jake just huffed in disbelief and dipped his head to do trailing his nose down the length of Phin’s neck in a ticklish trickle of silky hair. This, while rolling his hips with a sinuous swish of spine that made Phin gasp and his back do bowing in a bid to force Jake deeper still. He was fast turning into a wanton hussy. A fact Phin liked far too much for seemliness sake. Mmmore…

A plea Jake met with a snicker that sent a shiver of quivers straight to his cock. Crikey… sex was chock full of unforeseen consequences Phin had never done factoring in. He’d no sooner thought this, than Jake began to do moving. Moving? Phin had never unleashed such an excessive understatement. ‘Moving’ was white light before passing through a prism. Jake was a rainbow melody of motion. Hell-bent on proving that Phin had scarce got started on the understatement front. 

After clasping Phin’s hips, Jake did dragging his own back almost all the way. Phin had to quell the urge to clench, as if to trap the scoundrel if he’d decided it was too dangerous, after all. A small mewl of sound like a kitten shut out in the cold flitted from Phin’s lips, swiftly succeeded by a sharp gasp when Jake did burying himself balls deep with one sure surge. Shockwaves of heat sizzled through Phin’s body, boiling his brain, which was too boggled to do sorting the surfeit of sensations. So it didn’t bother, and just did melting instead.

This was the feeling Phin had forever craved…without even knowing what it might be. Or even if he would do recognising it at all, should he be fortunate ’nuff to find it. Its promise had hovered like a horizon in his head; a shimmering illusion he might never do reaching, no matter how far or wide he searched. Aspiration wise? Phin had known it was akin to a fixation on finding faeries at the bottom of the garden…but he’d never been able to abandon it. Impossible to do when it was irreplaceable. The void would have driven him demented—the one risk Phin refused to take, again—he valued his freedom too much.

He’d been quite content to do whiling away his time amongst the trove of treasures stashed in his head. Contentment and Comfiness had become Phin’s Plan B. States of mind for which he’d fought hard, made all the more precious for that. Arriving in Cornwall had put the tin (miner’s) hat on it; finding his own happy place had far surpassed settling for second best. Not least when he’d always known there was no second best: There was Him, whoever he was…and everyone else. 

Nothing had ever felt this…necessary. Nothing would ever, could ever, be the same after this. How was Phin supposed to get dressed and do pottering around and ordinary stuff tomorrow? Why would anyone do going to buy a pot-plant, when they could be in bed doing this, instead? Nutters. Phin wanted Jack to stay inside him forever—or, at the very least—every day and night for the rest of forever. See? He could do compromising.

“Jack! Harder, pleease.”

“I’ll hurt you…” The low groan that rolled in Jake’s throat was the most delicious rumble of noise Phin had ever heard. As delectable as every swish of his super-foxy spine.

“You won’t. I-I need you to.” Phin’s inner muscles did tightening, all on their own—as if to emphasize his point—which p’raps worked a tad too well. It sure made Jake let rip a roaring racket that did rattling the bedposts. Oops. 

Phin felt it then; the shimmer he’d seen at the car park. It did rippling through Jake—and Phin o’course—which was a consequence worth dying for, if he must. Ah well, what a way to go… 

The low beam of Jake’s eyes abruptly flared to blue flame, incandescent in the darkness. Swiftly followed by a spasm of muscle that sent Jake’s hips snapping forwards with the alacrity Phin had demanded. Not too much. Never too much. Foxy wouldn’t permit it, let alone inflict it. Phin knew this with a certainty as deep as Jake was embedded in his body. The hyper-thrust had made all Phin’s breath do gushing out, so he gasped great lungfuls of shimmery air, as if he’d done bursting through the sea surface after a surfing mishap.

Phin’s heart was hammering louder than the unearthly noises scrabbling in his throat. His veins felt like rivers of boiling bliss and his balls were busy cooking up a brew they were all-too eager to do sharing. The deluge of too muchness had distracted him for longer than seemed feasible, not least when Phin had felt fit to burst before Jake buried himself home. Home? Phin sure hadn’t rustled that up. 

The very air shivered with their sighs, Phin could feel it as a physical force. Pressing down, dulling the slick sound of skin on skin and the guttural groans Phin gobbled up with customary greed, even as he hungered for more. That was the last nugget of nonsense Phin could recall. After that, there was only the sublime sweep of Jake’s spine, the suppressed power that filled Phin with a thirst every bit as craven as his greedy guts. He wanted it. All of it. All of him…when Jake was already so much more than Phin deserved. He was magnificent; as enigmatic as midnight, as luminous as the blue ablaze in those eyes. Phin lost all sense of himself…of where he ended and Jack began. This was it; the world the poets had promised him. Nothing and no-one could convince Phin otherwise. Not even Jake. 

He was Too Much made man. Grinding against Phin with an intensity he’d feared he could never inspire. Pounding into his body as if hell-bent on proving something Phin had known from the very first; only Jake could ever be enough. Even Phin’s nerve endings had recognised that. They’d done tingling with Peter Parker pizzazz the moment Phin opened his eyes. On the moor.

Here, now, Phin couldn’t do keeping still. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to be doing—but he seemed to be doing it—so his body must’ve got the gist of it and hadn’t done sharing with the class. No matter, that just meant he could do flying by the seat of his pants, which was always Phin’s favourite way to travel. 

“Phiiiin!” The raw rasp of his name was the most erotic sound that had ever rifled his ear-drums, swiftly followed by a white-hot shaft of indescribable bliss when Jake’s cock brushed that bedazzling spot. Much to his misfortune, Phin could describe the strangled cat sound that accompanied it, so he just hoped Jake didn’t do noticing. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered, but then, Jake could surely hear a dog whistle and that was a racket Phin was glad he’d been spared. He couldn’t even tolerate the hoover.

He felt as if he’d been whizzed back to an era of raw, primal need. A time stripped of petty complexities; no doing dreary concentrating and worrying about Too Much. Phin Just Was…and he just wanted Jake. His foxy friend, carved from honeyed gold, filling him up. Feeding-fuelling a need so gnawing it could never be sated…claiming Phin as his very own. Always and evermore. 

“I can’t…hold on. Got…t’pull out. Just incase I-he…” Words Jake forced through gritted teeth, then gasped and did gulping at air. “Ah…aah…NOOO! Jack!” Jake snarled. “No. Don’t…NO! Fuuck..!” He furled his hand around Phin’s cock about a bitten-off curse before Jake shuddered and a strangled howl tore from his throat.

For an eternal moment Phin did hovering on the brink of maddening bliss as a flood of warmth filled his insides and his own name clawed the walls. A fact that finished Phin off, snatching his breath away when the ever-building pressure exploded in an ecstatic rush.

“Jaake!” shattered the darkness when Phin relinquished all he was…and fell into forever.





Beast of Bodmin Moor 29



Happy New Year to you all! I hope that 2020 is kind to you. Thank you so much for being here and for making this story such a pleasure to rewrite.



The Beast of Bodmin Moor







“I-I’m terrified…I’ll hurt you…but I—fuck. Please, Phin. Run. Go—”  Jake knew, even as he choked them out, that his pleas were the death rattle of a dying conscience. Knew too, that they would fall upon deaf ears. But he had to try. 

They sure as hell couldn’t stop now, which left only Phin to slam the brakes on. Jake had to be able to vow he’d done his damnedest to hand that power over—had tried to save Phin—even though he suspected it was far too late. As it had been from the first. This was inevitable…but he’d continued to torture them both; clinging to the belief that he could be better than he knew himself to be. For Phin’s sake. 

What a hero. Well, you’ve got the fireman’s lift covered…although, I suspect you were supposed to carry him out of the burning building rather than tucking him up in bed. Ah well, seeing as you have, can we get on with the sanity saving part now…while we’re here, an’ all? 

I wasn’t trying to be a bloody hero, smart arse. Honourable, at best. 

A better man than he was. A delusion that planted his palms on the duvet; he had to get the hell away from the body he must claim as his own. What the—?

Do keep up. Which part of ‘inevitable’ didn’t you quite catch?

“Jack!” Phin’s velvet voice rasped from his throat like the scrape of sandpaper. “I’m going to wish I was dead if you dare stop now. Take. Me.” Words that scythed through Jake’s threadbare resolve. His softly pleading, pliant Phin gone; midnight eyes ablaze with dark fire as he demanded far less than he deserved. 

Far less than he has every right to expect.

Jake could deny him no longer. 

Jack would not. 

Just following orders. Addressed to me. So, keep your snout out.

The jackal, much to Jake’s astonishment, had allowed thatpitiful attempt to steal Phin’s fate. Sat silent, serene; smug with triumph as the tattered shreds of Jake’s best intentions bit the dust.

“Fuck me, Jack…please” Phin’s voice may have gentled, but it remained as strong, sure, steady as his gaze; burning black holes of need that brooked no rebuff. Jake was done for. Outnumbered, outmanoeuvred, ousted from his own bloody bed. Jack, f’fucksakes.

On the bright side? Y’still have your body, numbnuts.

So he did, but for how long? Which was, of course, the issue that had been at stake from the start. The single sodding reason why Jake hadn’t claimed what he craved more than life itself. His own. Never Phin’s, which mattered far more. Jake surrendered. Bowed to the inevitable. Bent to capture Phin’s softly parted pout in a kiss as fathomless as an ocean, as timeless as the eyes that had ensnared his soul. Drowning deep; a tangle of entwined tongues and shared breath. 

“Phin…” Jake brushed his name across his lips as he pulled free, but only to smudge his mouth across Phin’s jaw…down his neck to fasten at the pulse pounding there. A god-awful groan crawled up his throat as Jake started to slither backwards, an incendiary smear of skin on skin that set his own aflame. He’d never felt more desperate to touch, taste, take.

His capitulation had but fuelled the need: it was an alcoholic let loose on a free bar. A raging thirst that could never be sated. Greedier, now that oblivion was oh, so near…for they had no intention of stopping. Ever. Phin arched off the bed with a sharp gasp when the tongue Jake had been trailing down his chest alighted on satin-suede flesh that puckered in an instant, allowing him to trap it with teeth that tugged a torrent of pleas from Phin’s lips.

“Jack…” he gasped. “Please, don’t stop, I needaah!

“I couldn’t if I wanted to…” Jake groaned, his senses so engorged on the scent filling—fulfilling—every fibre of their being that insanity beckoned if he tried to defy the need. As binding as an enchantment. Sentiments he would have considered hyperboletoo far-fetched to be feasiblebefore...Jack? Phin? Either, both, but that didn’t make them any less true. Or real.

“Hmm…I’m glad…” Phin’s whispersoft sigh was a symphony of sound. His skin, a silken snare. Jake shuffled back, tracing the rails of his ribs with tip of his tongue, cinnamon sugar growing more salty by the second; their sweat slick, the feverish flesh his chest ghosted across as he dipped his head to dapple in Phin’s belly button. He was trembling, strung so tight he barely seemed able to breathe. All Jake could hear were scrappy wisps of air escaping suspended inhalations shot-through with sharp gasps. His heart was hammering so hard, Jake might have feared for Phin’s welfare, had he never exuded more life. A vitality Jake could scent, taste, as he trailed his tongue down the tantalizing trickle of hair that made Phin’s hips spasm and his breath cut off completely. Jack clamped his palms to the top of lean thighs and buried his nose in scratchy-soft curls steeped in one hundred percent proof Phin.


“Hmmm?” he hummed, swiping a luxurious sluice along Phin’s twitching cock.

“No more. Just, please…now…”

“I’ve wanted nothing more…from the very first.” Jake admitted, in a rasp far too close to a canid snarl for comfort.

“Then why…?”

“Because I wanted you Too Much. Much too much to believe it could possibly be right.” Jake lifted his head, too deranged to care that his eyes looked inhuman. A fact too luminous to allow himself to hope otherwise, with the rest of the room cloaked in velvet darkness.  “Surely you know how that feels…?”

“Yes…” Phin’s smile was a brief flicker of sadness, before those inimitable eyes twinkled with mischief in mind. “Is Foxy okay?” 

“Yes…” Jake sounded as surprised as he felt; that it was true…but also because Phin had not only done wondering, he’d done so aloud.

Jack huffed a happy sigh, a small whine of want following in its slipstream.

“Good. I’m glad… Jack, I don’t want to do waiting anymore…please?” 

Jack huffed in agreement, lifting his muzzle off his paws to regard Jake with his get on with it, shit for brains face.

“No, nor do we…”  Their chuckle sounded like a trickle of treacle.








Phin was wound so twang-tight that something would snap if Jack stopped now; there would be nowhere for all the too muchness to go. The knot in the pit of his guts ratcheted up another notch, shooting sparks along his spine and tingles through his body.

Not even making their customary racket could be enough now…not with the promise of what could be fizzing through his veins, shimmering in the sliver of air separating them still

“Where are you going?” Phin humphed when Jack scrambled up and slid off the bed. The cosh of cold air felt akin to being clobbered.


He could hear foraging, but it was too dim to see what Jake was doing, now he’d snaffled his eyes away, plunging Phin into darkness. “…that you wouldn’t be grateful for.” The grin in Jake’s voice was as audible as whatever  thudded onto the duvet beside Phin’s thigh. His own smile? Was unseemly with triumph when Phin curled his fingers around cool plastic. “Now that is a cat with the cream face, if I ever saw one,” Jake’s chuckle was Death By Chocolate Cake. Glistening with hot-fudge sauce. 

“You can see my face? Duh, I’m a daftie, of course you can. I keep doing forgetting.”

“I’m glad that you can—do forgetting—I mean.” Jake sighed, sobering in an instant. “I don’t…want you to think of me as a…freak.”

A freak? That’s barmy-bonkers. You’re still you—knowing doesn’t make you different from before. Not to me. Food doesn’t do tasting different if you know the recipe, does it? Anyhoo…’nuff nattering, I’m starving. I want my sandwich.”

“Your what?” Jake gaped. 

“When you kept doing worrying, it was like having a wasp buzzing round my head stopping me from scoffing my sandwich.”

“Is there a particular sandwich filling that tickles your fancy, Sir?” Jake smirked.

“Jack, I’m so starved, I can’t do caring. I’ll have the Chef’s Special.”

“Strewth, no pressure there then…” Those burning blues flared as if someone had turned their gas up. 

“Oh, shurruhmmm…” Phin made a most unseemly noise when Jake grasped a bicep and flipped him onto his front before he could do so much as blink. “Jake…? Just how fast can you move…?”

“Very…very fast…” Was a whisper of blowtorch breath at Phin’s ear. Then it was gone and Jack was tugging his hips up to prop Phin onto his knees. He’d scarce got his balance afore he almost fell flat on his face when Jack swept a searing sluice along the hypersensitive skin behind his balls… Up, up, up, to flicker at what felt as if ’twas pulsing with impatience. Doing waiting was never Phin’s best thing, but blimey, he’d waited a lifetime (in the last three days) for this. For him. 

“Ooh…” Hands, hot, clasped cool cheeks and tugged them apart a tad, then oh, help… “Aah!” He was never ever going to do getting accustomed to that. Even if he was fortunate ’nuff to do finding out… Was that even possible?

The whole world had done narrowing to his own butt again. The hyperfocus; fixed on the tongue flickering at his very core, doing prodding, before plunging inside with a scorch of breath-snatching bliss that sent shock-shivers here, there ‘n’ everywhere. From the roots of Phin’s hair to the tips of his toes; he felt as if he’d been plugged in and the power cranked to max hypercharge. His head might do blowing up before the best bit. Well…Phin bloomin’ hoped it was about to be served up…having bided way too much time on the bench of sexing shenanigans already. The swirling was driving him demented—or delirious—it was tricky to tell. If matters didn’t do progressing in a sharpish sort of fashion, he would be fit for nothing but a fancy buckled coat (far better that, than orange overalls; an evil sure to do finishing Phin off. Not in a fun way). 

Much to the relief of his last marble, his right hip was released and the mind-mangling tongue left a hollow ache in its wake; about the only thing on Earth Phin would have done noticing roundabout then. On accounts of the fiery fingertip Jack did trailing down the valley of Phin’s darkest, most delectable, dreams. 

“Okay?” Jack rumbled when he heard Phin’s choked-off squelch; aspiring to be a swallow. His throat—tighter than his hyperstrung everything else—seemed dead set on doing strangling him. A fate that would be an itty bit typical, it must be admitted. 

He’d been so, so scared Jake would stop…so afraid he would find himself abandoned to the darkness with naught but wasps for company as somewhere downstairs, a door did slamming on his dreams.

“Yessss…” Phin managed to croak. A word he would have communicated if he’d had to carve it on his butt with a switchblade. It was then that the press of a slick fingertip—at long last made its presence felt—where he craved it more than air in his lungs. Fact.

Sooo, it was p’raps for the best that there was no need to do choosing…




Beast of Bodmin Moor 28


The Beast of Bodmin Moor








Jake felt as helluva lot as if he were hurtling along in a runaway minecart. This may have been true since first scenting Phin on the wind, but they’d hit hyperspeed the second Jack hitched their wagon to Phin’s.

In which alternate universe might Jake be found gamboling around Phin’s ankles, going for a sausage (if he was a good boy) in an Aladdin’s cave campervan? Fuck knows. You couldn’t make it up. Nor would you want to, unless you were batshit bonkers.

But here they were, capering across the moors at the heels of the most incredible, incorrigible, man he’d ever met. In either form. Was Phin entirely human? He’d always seemed so…other. Not in the negative sense; he was as entrancing as he was ethereal. The likelihood that Jack and his…


Dam? Why do I suspect that’s not short for ‘Damn woman’?

You’re not quite the cretin you’re at pains to portray?

Thanks. Are you feeling quite well?

Never better. Until I rectify that, o’course.


Not listening…falalala.

Liar. What the fuck is a Dam? 

A Dam or Sire…unleashes your potential.

Christ. So, I shagged my jackal mum? Marvellous. And you didn’t think to mention this because…?

You never asked.


Technically, you did not. Except in retrospect, Mr. Squicky Knickers.

You’re starting to sound like Phin.

You might want to ease off on the compliments, before I start thinking you find me tolerable. Just sayin’.

Jake had lost his plot again…where was I?

The likelihood that Jack and his…

Dam—f’chrissakes—belonged to the only supernatural species on the planet seemed negligible.  If shapeshifters could lead inconspicuous lives, it was hardly a leap to credit the existence of creatures he’d thought confined to the pages of fantasy fiction.

It was irrelevant if Phin was fae, or…a fallen angel; these being Jake’s most likely suspects. Even if he was just plain old McCain from Cornwall, he would still consider Phin extraordinary. While his ‘otherness’ might be attributable to the label he’d been landed with, his very Phin-ness defied definition, so Christ knows which drawer they’d filed him in. He was enchanting. Whether or not he also enchanted was incidental.

‘You are beautiful… Either way.’  Strewth. While the truth had been impossible to miss, it was hard to believe that Phin had needed it illustrating quite so graphically.

‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth’.

No mind that magical would dismiss the improbable, no matter how unfeasibleor downright ridiculousit seemed. But beautiful? Either way? That was less credible than Phin’s unruffled reaction to Jack…but it soon became clear that he was far from done.

‘You’re a daftie. I loved Foxy first, why would that change because he’s more than I thought?’

‘I loved Foxy first…



“Here you go… I would have done tidying if I’d known you were visiting, so I’m sorry about the messy. It sort of happened while I was doing waiting,” Phin warned, opening the door and waving his hand in an ‘after you’ gesture. Jack jumped aboard and stood in the midst of the mayhem. In truth, it looked a helluva lot similar to last time he saw it, so gawd knows what now made it ‘messy’.

Aside from their own home, venturing indoors felt forbidden; as if it would be wise to scout out potential hiding places. That was as ludicrous as the suggestion that someone might drop by hoping to borrow a cup of bloody sugar. It still felt akin to being abruptly naked in the high street. Jake’s fear of exposure and the jackal’s survival instincts were an unholy cocktail. Tough to override in either form.

“Food first, I reckon,” Phin announced, shrugging off his trenchcoat. “I thought you were just starving that day you declared you’d eat your bacon raw…but I now suspect you prefer it that way.” Phin was chuckling when he bent to extract the bacon—and sausages—from the mini fridge.

“D’you want me to do cooking it?” he asked, dangling a pungent strip of smoked paradise above Jack’s head. A split-second later it was somewhat too late for such niceties. 

“Scoffed in a flash…you must be starving. I’ll stick the rest on a plate and place it on the table, then you can sit on the bench and help yourself.” Phin emptied the packet of bacon onto what seemed to be part of the dinner service that matched his cups and saucers, then framed it with four fat sausages. Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppes would salivate if they had any senseshould an angel-masquerading-as-man with excessive legs and magpie tendencies to matchever potter into their emporium.

“There you go, let me know if you’re still hungry…” Phin told him, placing the plate on the table. “I fancy a sandwich—oddly nuff—so I’ll be with you in a mo…” Jack leapt onto the seat and started tucking into the finest supper he’d ever been presented. “I’m having a nightcap with mine, so I’ll pour some brandy in a dish and fill a bowl with water, then you can just do choosing…” The scent of raw honey and bread so yeasty-fresh Jake could identify its baker if he shopped locallyrather than onlinesaturated the air. In his own defence; venturing into a supermarket had become a minefield of temptation too crippling to contemplate. Stepping foot in the butchers had all-but eviscerated him before Jake could say ‘steak’. Phin whisked their empty plate away and replaced it with two bowls, as promised. Eeny meeny…as if. They were furry not dead.

Speaking of which, Phin savoured the honey sandwich as if it was his last supper on death row. “To foxy friends…” he beamed, raising his glass in a toast. Jack settled on winking back before nudging the dish of water aside with his nose. 

“You just did winking!” Phin’s gape was swiftly replaced by an ear-licking grin. “Ha, I knew it. I wondered if p’raps I was a loon for thinking you’re both you. That didn’t do making sense, did it?” His brow furrowed briefly. A consequence of doing concentrating, no doubt. “My instincts told me that you’re not Jake and Foxy. Just…Jaxy. Whatever you’re wearing at the time. Oh dear, the nonsense sounded less loonish. Ah well, no matter, I’m real glad you’re both here at the same time, rather than doing a time-share. I must have already known that cos it didn’t even do crossing my mind to put your food on the floor. Even if it had, I couldn’t have done it…that would’ve felt all wrong.

Blimey, what a lot of yappering. I should shush up before you bugger off for a bit of peace and quiet.” Phin rolled his eyes at himself while edging off the bench to stand up. “I need to get changed. I’m uncomfy, and most unseemly t’boot…my zip is a bit broke. Odd that,” Phin snickered, unbuttoning his waistband before shoving his jeans down.  Jack sat, gazing at the lavish length of ivory unveiled by that slithering sigh of denim.

You, are actually panting.

At least I’m honest about it.

A thesaurus search would suggest: Blatant. As subtle as a brick. 

“Are you too warm…or just thirsty?” Voilà.  A query hot on the heels of Phin’s frown after glancing Jack’s way when he’d done stamping his jeans off. “I’ll get us another drink in a minute…” he added from the depths of a t-shirt while tugging it over his head. 

Jack whimpered with want. Jake considered harikari.

“Are you okay?” Phin worried, dropping to his haunches again. Oh no…not the ear thing. Ooooh… They closed their eyes. It did not help. At all. There was an acre of cinnamon scented skin inches from Jack’s face. Nose. Fuck. They needed fresh air. Fast.






Phin was fondling silken fur when he found himself clutching empty air a split-second later.  Foxy had shot to the door…to start a frantic scratching he paused only to spear Phin with a pleading gaze before redoubling his efforts. The moment Phin flicked the catch, Foxy barrelled past as if the hounds of hell were in hot pursuit and bolted into the devouring darkness. Phin stood, blinking into the night, uncertain what to do. Had the brandy been a bad idea in the bladder department…or, had Foxy fled, full-stop?  

What should Phin do? Wait at the door, perchance he’d gone for a pee? Do hoping, hard? Go and do looking for him? The latter was a big bit stalkerish, if Foxy had scarpered to escape from Phin. But why? He’d seemed content at the table…what had happened to do changing that? Phin hadn’t done anything dreadful…had he said something amiss?

Foxy had whimpered, so Phin sank to his haunches and fluffled his ears, hoping it felt soothing, as he’d seemed to like ita lotbut he’d snatched his head away, swiftly followed by the rest of his furry self to do scrabbling at the door. Oh. 

Phin hadn’t done considering the consequences again, had he? Just followed his instincts and attempted something that was supposed to be ‘comforting’. For people. He must do remembering that daft human reasons ‘n’ rules might seem not-a-jot considerate to Foxy.

Was he miffed? Upset? Angry? What could Phin do? He would never find Foxy on foot, Jake was way too fast on two legs. He didn’t have a hope in hell of finding Foxy with four. Where might he go? Phin only knew two of places aside from The Albion; Jake had fled from there before he did changing, which ruled that out. This left the moors and Jake’s cottage.

If he’d done scarpering to outrun his wasps, then he’d head home eventually, wouldn’t he? The campervan couldn’t cope with rutted moorland, littered with rocks and random humps of hard-packed earth, even if Foxy couldn’t do leaving it for dust. All of which made it a good plan to do waiting at the cottage. What if Jake didn’t want to see Phin? Ever again? Well, he’d just have to do camping on the driveway till Jake changed his mind. Or took out a restraining order. That should take a wee while to come into effect. Okay. Now Phin just had to do hoping that the fox was in his den. Feeling peckish.


The cottage was veiled in darkness when Phin arrived, so he parked up and fetched a glass of brandy to drink in the driver’s seat while doing waiting. He was supping his second when a light flicked on in the large downstairs window. Jack had not sped past on any number of legs, so he must have come home a different way. 

Foxy wouldn’t have turned the lights on, even if it was reachable, unless p’raps he wanted to do reading. Not very probable; turning pages would be a tad tricky with paws.  It made a splendiferous image in his head, though. Especially if he’d donned a smoking jacket and monogrammed slippers to do puffing on a pipe. Posh apparel that reminded Phin he was wearing naught but his pants. It was a bit late to do bothering about that now. 

There must be a back door because Jack was now inside and he sure as stingy lack of dogflaps hadn’t used the front one. He must have super-sensed the campervan, so it seemed a tad pointless to try a spot of catburglaring. 

Nope…he’d just have to do hoping that Jake would rather not have a man standing shivering on his doorstep in his pants. What will the neighbours think!? Phin’s dad had liked that expression. A very lot. Ow…shoes might have been a splendid plan. Phin pressed the bell. He didn’t have to do waiting. At all.

The door burst open in a blaze of lightsaber blue about a snatched-off breath before Phin was indoors. Upside down. Staring at Jake’s delectable bum (sadly sporting sweatpants). There must have been some stuff in between, but the flipside came far too fast to do fathoming. Even if Phin had cared a fig. He did not.

“Jake, are you miffy?” he gasped.

“Not unless that was rhyming slang,”  Jake snorted. Phin did shifting his leg a smidge to the centre. Hmm…so it seemed. He’d didn’t have time to do any more thinking after that, because they shot up the staircase as if they’d been fired from a cannon and Phin found himself tossed onto a bed. Jake’s bed. He’d scarce started marvelling at this miracle when it was eclipsed with sublime excess and an onslaught of never, ever, too much. 

One moment he was flat on his back in his pants, the next he found himself engulfed in a brain-boggling blitz of hard heat and silky skin, with nary a stitch to his name. Naked. Both of them. Jake buried face in the curve of Phin’s neck and inhaled long and deep, with a groan to match.

“Phin…” Jake sighed, lifting his head to ensnare Phin with a blue that burned bunsen bright, ablaze with azure fire. Bewitching. The room was otherwise pitch black. There was only Jake, only those eyes; the heady scent of the hair tickling Phin’s face and the heavy heat crushed to his cock.

“I-I’m terrified…I’ll hurt you…but Ifuck. Please, Phin. Run. Go” Jake’s voice cracked,  his body wracking as he gasped great gulps of air.

“No. Never…you won’t, please…” Phin may as well have pleaded with a lamp post. The scoundrel just did planting his palms on the bed to push himself up. Off. “Jack! I’m going to wish I was dead if you dare stop now.” That came out as a snarl of sound; so thick it was scarce recognizable. “Take. Me.”






Beast of Bodmin Moor 27

Happy Boxing Day 🥰 I hope you had a wonderful Christmas ❤️



The Beast of Bodmin Moor






Phin was grinning to himself as he ran back to the campervan. He was beset by such an excess of elation he felt as if his heels might sprout wings and whoosh him up the moors on the wind. That sounded daft, but why not, if he now inhabited a world where very foxy friends morphed into Foxy’s afore his very eyes? 

The self-same Foxy he’d befriended on the moor, which was p’raps why they were heading there now. Back to where it all began, before…oh. A bitalot belatedly, the Kypton Factor pieces fell into place. Jack must have ‘found’ Phin at his happy place, the night of the snaffled robe. Not after he’d fallen: Foxy had been there when Phin slipped on the rocks. That had been his own fault, he’d been too distracted by the whimper to do remembering to concentrate, then lost his footing as a consequence. Typical.

Had Jack fibbed about the bet to explain how he ‘lost’ his clothes? If he’d been Foxy when he happened across Phin, then he wouldn’t have had a stitch to wear when he…changed back into his human self. That sounded dafter still, even though Phin had seen the evidence for himself, except in reverse, o’course. Jack’s t-shirt and jeans had exploded into fluttery scraps, sooo...he must have wound up naked after turning back into his two-legged self. Dang…how Phin wished he could do remembering their stroll back to the van. He couldn’t even recall walking at all, let alone with Jake. Naked. Mmm…swishing and swinging in the wind. Bummer.

Phin couldn’t do thinking of a single reason why he shouldn’t meet Foxy at his happy place. He’d felt safe even before he knew Jake existed, let alone where. He must still be present, surely? Just wearing his furry outfit? Unless…Foxy was a sort of visitor who ousted Jake from his own home, as ’twere?

No, that didn’t feel right. He couldn’t explain why he believed they shared the same…spirit? Soul? Albeit ‘dressed’ differently, but he was still certain of it. Phin never knew why he thought stuff. His instincts told him, and that was that. If forced to rustle up a reason, he would plump for those bewitching blues. The eyes are the windows to the soul…after all. The view Phin saw through those windows was identical. This was just as true from Jake’s side; the gaze of both foxy friends felt the same. It was steeped in a similar…warmth. Acceptance; exactly as Phin was. Unconditional. Aside from his mum and sister, no one had ever made him feel that way.

It was as exceptional as say…a pink elephant. Instantly recognisable in a sea of grey faces. Not least when Phin could pick out the precise shade of things he hadn’t seen for decades. Match it, with one glance. He didn’t need to dither about doing ‘deciding’. It wasn’t a skill; he just could. Despite the fact he couldn’t do lots more stuff that was supposed to be bog-standard. Phin was buttermilk Andrex, with no loo.

Colour played the pivotal role in his perception; with all five senses. It did determining his reactions. Five hues that had to harmonize before things felt right. The essence shining from both sets of blues was singular. A metaphorical DNA match. So, why the bejeezus had Jake deemed himself ‘dangerous’ to Phin? Who was not as doolally as he looked; he knew damn well that he would be dead already, if he’d been a rabbit. In snackeroo terms? Phin felt about as imperilled as a teapot.

He wasn’t scared for the simple reason he knew that Foxy meant him no harm. Phin might get hurt as a consequence, but that was true when he crossed the road. He would rather get run over than potter around in a crash helmet and bicycle clips to be ‘on the safe side’. He didn’t want to live his life in a suit of armour. For a start, he was much more comfy naked than suffering stuff that made him scratchy. 

Feelings were lethal, full stop. They made you vulnerable. Phin suspected that falling in love meant you’d never feel safe again. None o’this would have ever crossed his mind if Jack hadn’t kept coshing him with constant frets for his welfare. It was a lot like having a wasp buzzing about his head, stopping him from eating his sandwich in peace. Phin spent the rest of the drive rustling up the perfect sarnie to describe Jack. Something spicy with a bit of bite…oozing relish.

Anticipation was fizzing through his veins when he parked the van, his heart aflutter like hummingbird wings. That was daft. He was meeting Foxy, and yet he felt just as he had when he’d walked into The Albion, which was more than a mite unseemly. Phin would do trying almost anything once and admit to many a kinky quirk, but his fondness for animals was the ‘exception that proved the rule’…and thus, not a jot excessive.

Foxy’s tail was swishing with much the aplomb of Jake’s bum when he bounded over to greet Phin, even his brief wuff of welcome sounded pleased to see him. A snuffabout seemed to satisfy Foxy that all was well, then he shot off across the stubbly grass, leaving Phin to follow in his wake. To the place he’d believed too perfect to improve in any way, whatsoever. In a lifetime littered with wrongness? Phin really had excessed himself.

Foxy was waiting atop their grassy mound when Phin arrived, his face raised skywards as if he were moonbathing. He looked serene. Proud. Cloaked in ancient majesty as he sat amidst the ruins. Phin paused beside a tumbledown wall and gazed up at him,  mesmerized. Too enchanted to shatter the silence, for fear he might spoil something too magical to exist beyond it. Too flawless to belong in Phin’s future. 

He was struck by the strangest realization as he crossed those last few feet to Foxy’s side; Phin could scarce wait to reach him and yet, he wasn’t beset by the fretful hyperneed to rushrushrush and stifle some fear he’d never been able to name. 

He just felt…right. Phin never felt right. The closest he’d ever known was not feeling wrong. That only happened when he was alone. But here, now, walking towards the two-for-one friend he’d never had, all was right in Phin’s world. Something had slotted into place. The piece he hadn’t known was missing. As if his whole life had led to this moment. A thought as demented as everything else he’d rustled up since Jake’s clothes exploded. Ooh, if only that came fully loaded with the symbolism it promised…

Foxy? Somehow looked content to sit and wait until dawn stole the dark away. He was serenity itself. As regal as a statue of Anubis (the Sphinx had a human head—Foxy thankfully, did not—that might have been a bit freaky).

“Hello Foxy…” Phin’s kept his voice soft, unwilling to shatter the spell hovering over them as surely as the blanket of stars. After sitting down beside his foxy friend, legs stretched before him, Phin was content to do waiting for Foxy to take the lead. As ‘twere. For a timeless moment they simply sat, facing forwards. If Foxy wanted to do so for the rest of the night, it was fine by Phin. He wanted Phin here, full stop; that was more than enough. 

Foxy turned his head towards Phin, who echoed the movement and found himself staring into eyes that no longer glowed the way they had back at the Albion. While they still glistened Starlite bright, they weren’t luminous; agleam from within. They didn’t look supernatural. Despite being far from ordinary. They could never be that. Simply because they were Jack’s eyes. Not a jot of doubt remained in Phin’s mind.

“You’re beautiful…” Words barely above a whisper, made all the more reverent for that.  Foxy did dipping his head…in negation of Phin’s words? Or, had they made him go all bashful? “You are. Either way.”

His head shot straight back up to spear Phin with cerulean; Jake’s eyes, wide with shock.

“You can’t be surprised I did working it out, so you must be shocked to be thought beautiful either way. You’re a daftie. I loved Foxy first, why would that change because he’s more than I thought? That doesn’t do making sense. It’s like ice-cream.” Foxy tilted his head, eyes aboggle. “It is! With a flake. Ice-cream is scrumptious, as are flakes. I sure wouldn’t be miffed if I was served a 99, after assuming I would get a cone. That’d be bonkers. They both taste better if you scoff them together.”

Foxy’s tongue did lolling, his breath huffing out in cloudy snuffs. “You’re doing laughing at me, y’scoundrel. Humph. I would rather have a 99 than a sandwich with a wasp, that’s for sure. So there.” Foxy rolled both eyeballs inwards, going cross-eyed at Phin. How rude. “I suppose you think it’s more akin to ice-cream with ketchup. Y’might like them well and good separately, but not together. Pfft to that. I’d be prepared to give it a bash before I did grumbling about it. Are you hungry? I am, it’s all this food chattering. Tell you what, let’s go back to the van and you can scoff the bacon. I might even throw in a sausage, if you’re a good boy.” Phin told him, reaching out to ruffle Foxy’s ears. It was irresistible; it made him go all daft.

“Jack, I’m not sure if you can do choosing to change, or if you can’t…control that. If you can, then I hope you’ll stay Foxy for a while. You’re welcome either way, but I’d hate you to think that’s not true. P’raps that’s why you brought me here, rather than my van, perhaps not…but it’s easy ’nuff to prove. You might not want to come with me whatever you’re wearing o’course…and that’s okay too. I could always scoff some ketchup ‘n’ ice-cream if you prefer…” Phin shrugged, casual as y’please, as if his heart wasn’t hyperfluttering with hope as he clambered to his feet. Foxy thumped his tail a few times, but its rhythm was a smidge stuttery. Hesitant.

“I don’t want you to feel obliged, but I’d love you to come visiting…” Phin added an ear ruffle, because he was monstrous and had no shame whatsoever. He didn’t mention that bit. It might be his joker card and Phin was not as loopy as he looked.

He couldn’t have been more chuffed when Foxy stood up and did swiping Phin’s hand a lick. “Feel free to have a runabout, if you wish, I know I’d want to…” Phin admitted when Foxy fell into step beside him to pick their way through the rocky rubble.

There it was again, that glimmer Phin was trying not to do wondering about, but it kept flitting through his head when he wasn’t doing concentrating. That, would be a very Bad thing to ask…Phin had a sneaky suspicion Jake might do demanding the gun again. There were a trillion other questions less likely to make him miffy though; all the hows ‘n’ whys ‘n’ wherefores. Mere…curiosities, compared the part that mattered too much more: what all this meant for...them. 

First and foremostest; Phin must prove that Foxy could do trusting him. Then, maybe-one-day-over-the-rainbow, Jake would allow himself to trust…his selves.

Phin was famished. He couldn’t help but do hoping he might get to scoff that sandwich, before he starved t’death.