Old Friend

	The chill of the early winter air nipped at my nose and ear tips, exposed as they are without the hood of my heavy northern coat.  Damn Klaus for talking me out of bringing it with me inland.  He’d insisted after so long in the Kadrush, my fur would have grown in enough that Amurescan nights would not warrant covering my extremities.  
	And it had, to a certain extent.  But what he always failed to remember is that my fur is shorter and courser than his immaculately-bred coat.  My bloodline hails from the highlands, where the winters aren’t nearly as cold.  Here in the Capital, the oceans graze the city with the icy tendrils of the storms boiling down from further north.  It’s nothing like it is in the Kadrush, of course.  But it’s hardly pleasant when you’ve got ears like mine, and no one likes a cold nose.
	Of course none of this would be an issue if I’d been invited in to the gala he was currently enjoying.  Too much to hope for, I suppose.  But as the last hour had crept past, I’d begun to wonder why he’d brought me out tonight at all.  No, scratch that.  I’d wondered that two hours ago, when we’d been at our . . . well his . . . hotel, and he’d told me we were going out tonight.  And I’d asked him.  I was no fool.  Despite how close my Admiral and I had grown over the last few years, I knew from life experience and basic common fucking sense how taboo our connection was, and that the only point at which he’d ever acknowledge it publicly was on his damned deathbed.  
	So, naturally, I’d been curious why he was asking me to accompany him to another of the stuffy parties he himself had admitted he loathed so much, when it was plainly clear I wouldn’t even be allowed inside.  I was a Midshipman, a rank I was extremely grateful to have, considering my lack of any proper breeding.  I’d proven myself amongst the crew over the years, Klaus was not one for favoritism without merit.  It had been hard-won, but I was well accepted and respected at sea.
	On land was another matter.  On land, the fact that I wasn’t a Pedigree suddenly mattered again.  No matter my accomplishments on his crew, a mongrel like me was not welcome at the sorts of functions Klaus Richter so reluctantly attended.  He’d been mumbling and unclear what this one was even for . . . some kind of benefit, I think.  
	He’d been even less clear about why he was so insistent I come.  But I’d put on my one good outfit, and obediently followed, expecting at least that I’d get an explanation along the carriage ride to so-and-so’s Estate.  None was forthcoming.
	When we arrived at the immaculate city residence, I’d waited patiently to know why I was here.  And then we’d departed the carriage, and I thought surely, then.
	But all the aloof shepherd – my ever-frustrating, often selfish and egomaniacal lover – had given me was a mysterious ‘Wait here’ before turning on his heel and heading towards the Estate with a flourish of gold-trimmed coattails. 
	And since then it had been nearly an hour.  The carriage driver was as befuddled as I.  But the boxer mix was amicable and friendly, thankfully, and had let me share some bad vodka with him while we waited.  It was taking the edge off the cold, at least.
	We were partway into a conversation about the war – he’d apparently been part of the army until about a decade ago when he’d been injured by a horse – when I noticed a tall, vaguely canine figure approaching us.  He stood out not only because he seemed to be headed in our direction, but because the gala had been in full swing for over an hour now and most of those attending had shown up in carriages, not on foot.  Perhaps someone from the stables here, or another servant from the manor?
	He was holding a letter, or some kind of slip of paper, in one paw, and seemed uncertain.  I kept my ears turned in his direction, giving him a sidelong look until it was clear he was in fact headed for us.  But by his posture alone, I could tell he was wary about something and that made me nervous.
	I fingered the hilt of my knife just for security’s sake, my claws tapping at it just to assure my nerves that it was in fact there.  I saw the carriage driver eyeing me, apparently wise to what I was doing, but he didn’t try to stop me.  He’d been a soldier too, after all.
	“Looking for someone?”  I decided to speak up first.  
	His ears perked and he turned his sharp muzzle in our direction, the light from the nearby lanterns catching in his gaze.  I knew from the moment his eyes flashed that he was a wolf.  They had a particularly bright hue.  His was green, although that didn’t necessarily mean his eyes were too.
	He was wearing a long, fur-lined coat, but beyond that I couldn’t make out much in the misty city air until he came closer.  He did so with measured, quiet steps, a stark reminder that many of the wolves left in the world were part of tribes that still held close to their hunter/gatherer roots.  It was eerie how quiet they could be sometimes.
	He was a striking creature, but then most wolves were.  His eyes were in fact green, and he wore mostly dark brown leather.  There was nothing particularly unusual about his coloration, his fur was a blend of greys and some brown, especially along the tops of his ears and a ridge that started near the crown of his head.  I suspected it went further down his spine, but he wore a hood, and more tellingly, seemed to sport the beginnings of a thick mane that wasn’t entirely contained beneath said hood.  Definitely a tribesman, then.
	Also, most certainly a northern wolf.  His fur was thick, his build robust, and he was very tall.  I’d met wolves from the colonies, they’d spent generations intermarrying with the Carvecian breeds and tended towards a sleeker physique.  This wolf was from Northern Amuresca, possibly as far up as the Kadrush.
	When he spoke, his accent confirmed it.  “I am come for a contact of Klaus Richter,” he said in a deep, but mellow tone.  All at once for some reason, I felt at ease.  Perhaps it was the fact that in the light, his towering build was belied by the lost, confused expression on his muzzle.  I had no doubt that under different circumstances, this beast might have been quite menacing.  But tonight, here, he seemed more like a lost tourist.
	“You know the Admiral?”  I asked, stepping forward.
	“Knew.  Yes,” he nodded, glancing between me and the slip of paper in his hand.  “Long years ago.  I am survey corps, part of expedition to chart passage through the ice fields.”
	“Oh, yeah,” I perked up, “he told me about that.  That was, what . . . five, six years ago?  He took a bunch of you lot up there to find a new route north somewhere, right?  Didn’t go well, from what I heard.”
	“We do best,” the wolf shrugged, flashing his teeth in what was probably supposed to be a smile, but his muzzle was enormous and his teeth equally so.  Everything about him was enormous, honestly.  “I am born from Kharavosk, my tribe knows area well.  I tell them from beginning is no good route where they are looking, but, egch,” he made a noise that sounded something like a dismissive growl that I knew from dealing with some of the northerners basically translated to ‘no one cares’.  It made me smile, for some reason.  I liked the northern people in general, when they weren’t trying to kill us.  It was a harsh, but simpler way of life up there.  And the Church couldn’t quite get a firm grip on the area.  Tribal beliefs still survived in the cold reaches.  Likely the real reason behind all the border skirmishes, but don’t say that aloud in Amuresca.
	“So you’re looking for someone. . . for Klaus?”  I asked, eyeing the letter he was holding.  As if I could read it particularly well.  I’d only recently become somewhat literate, and it looked to be written in badly-scrawled tribal-	
	Before he could reply, I reached forward and grabbed for the letter.  The big wolf stiffened, but didn’t let go of it, and that was fine by me because by then I’d seen all I needed to.
	“Klaus wrote this,” I declared after a glance at the hand-writing, then looked up at him.  “This is a letter from him.”
	“Yes,” he replied, confused.  “I was about to tell you as much.”  He released the letter at that, letting me have it, and stepped back.  As he did, I swore I heard the clink of something beneath his coat.  I knew the sound well.  He’d released a partially unsheathed blade.
	“I’m sorry,” I said, glancing back at him after eyeing the letter another few moments.  “I didn’t mean to grab at you like that.”
	“Is fine,” he said with a sigh.  “I am perhaps too much worried-“
	“I’m fresh from the Kadrush myself,” I assured him quietly.  “I get it.”  I handed the letter back to him.  “And I can’t read this.  I can barely read his writing normally.  The ink smells fresh, though.”
	“I receive it today,” he said, the letter dwarfed in his big paw.  “It says to come here, to meet.  Contact.  Not him, but contact.  It does not say why, except that I take, and make soup for you.”
	“Excuse me?”  I asked, not bothering to conceal how amused I was at that statement.  Could be a translation issue, but if it was it was a weird one.
	He shrugged as if he was just as confused as I was.  “That is what letter say.”
	“And you came out here, on foot, from all the way-“ I glanced at his clothing.  It was high quality leather, but worn-in and probably rather old.  “You’ll forgive me, but I doubt you live in the Pedigree Estates.”
	“No,” he barked out a laugh.  “I stay in rooming house.  Eighteen blocks, near harbor.”
	“You came eighteen blocks on his say-so?”  I guffawed.  “For that?  To meet someone you don’t know, and . . . what was it?”
	He waved a hand, as if explaining, “I make leek and kielbasa soup.  Very special tribal recipe.  I know that is the one he must mean.”
	By now, I was laughing.  “Lord, this is so. . .” I paused, shaking my head.  “This is so something he’d do, actually.”
	“You must be contact he speaks of,” he deduced.  “You know him.”
	“Yeah, unfortunately,” I rolled my eyes.  “You seem pretty acceptant of this inane situation too, so I’m guessing you know him pretty well.  Or knew, whatever.”
	“Yes,” he agreed, nodding sagely.  “Klaus is odd man, sometimes.  But, has been long years since we have met, and I think, it would be good to see him again.  He must think of me too, to know I am in Capital City and go through trouble of finding me.  Sending me this letter.”
	“Well, if you still work for the Survey Corps, I’m sure it wasn’t that hard for him to hunt you down,” I muttered.  “He has a lot of resources and despite his insistence on being a ‘rebel’, he’s actually an enormous gossip and still likes to keep his fingers in a lot of social pies.”
	The wolf gave me a blank look at that, apparently not understanding the context.
	“He lies,” I summarized.  “A lot.  He enjoys society more than he lets on because it’s a place he can fluff his enormous ego every now and then.”
	“Ah, yes,” the wolf nodded again, flicking his tail.  “Klaus is much with the lies.  Yes.”
	“And yet you came all this way on his say-so,” I muttered, gesturing to him.  “To. . . babysit me, I’m afraid.  That’s why he sent you, you know.  He’s strange like that.  He’s probably meeting,” I paused, remembering this was a stranger to me at least, and I couldn’t know how well he knew Klaus, “someone,” I supplied vaguely, “at this party, and didn’t want to leave me alone all night.  And now I am really wishing he had.  I’m so sorry.”
	“Why?”  The wolf asked amiably.  
	“Because you came out all this way and he’s in there,” I pointed to the gala, which may as well have been the bottom of the ocean for all it was reachable to people like us, “and likely not coming out all night.  He doesn’t go to these things unless there’s something in it for him, you know?  Probably something young and well-groomed, if you get me.”
	“I am getting you, yes,” he glanced towards the building, then back to me.  “But it seems neither will we be alone tonight.”
	My eyes widened marginally.  “Wait, you’re gonna do what he told you to?”
	“Asked,” he said, holding up the letter.  “I am not serving in his crew any longer.  This is favor.”
	I shook my head, putting up a hand, “Listen, I appreciate it, but I really don’t need-“
	I paused because his ears had drooped.  And for one gut-wrenching moment, I felt terrible.  But not nearly as terrible as I felt in the very next moment.
	“But I made soup,” he murmured.
	I wasn’t sure if I’d offended some kind of tribal custom of hospitality, or if he held Klaus in such high regard from their time together that he was earnestly this willing to do whatever the man asked him to, or if he was just a big, sensitive guy.  But whatever the case, I wasn’t a monster.  It was clear there was only one thing I could possibly do.
	I held out a hand to him.  “Luther,” I said.  “Just Luther, no surname.”  It would have been Shepherd if I’d respected my father enough to take on our family’s herd and continued his humble legacy, but that time had long since passed.
	His ears perked back up and he took my paw in his far larger, meatier one, and gave me a shake I would not soon forget.
	“Nikita Ilfarimov,” he said.
	I tried not to state the obvious – that the seven-foot-tall wolf’s name sounded pretty effeminate to me.  I was pretty sure he could break me in half if he deigned to.  Instead, I shook back as well as I could manage, and said, “Well met, Nikita.  And I would like nothing more than to head to your rooming house tonight and try your soup.”
	“You will not be disappointed,” he said confidently.

	And I wasn’t.  Honestly, it’s probably some of the best soup I’d ever had to that point in my life, and since.  The northern tribes really know how to make stick-to-your-ribs meals.  It was a thick broth, rich with an odd flavor I suppose must have been the leeks (can’t say I’ve had many of those before) with potatoes and kielbasa.  The fat from the sausage cooked into the broth and flavored everything with its smoky, rich flavor.  
	I’d been at sea eating fish and pickled. . . everything. . . for months now, so maybe that accounted for how much I enjoyed it.  But it wasn’t just that.
	Nikita was proving to be really good company.  His room was private, I’d been picturing a public room when he’d mentioned a rooming house, so that was a welcome surprise.  It was small and cramped, and I could still smell the docks even with the door closed, but the scent of fish and brine was almost comforting in a way.  He had a single cot we were both sharing as a dining area, with a worn crate for a table and a small wood stove in the corner he’d used to re-warm the pot of soup on.
	“If it’s this good re-heated, it must be amazing fresh,” I said, licking the last of the broth from my bowl.
	“Oh no, that is thing,” the wolf insisted, holding up a paw.  “Good northern cooking is for long times eating.  The longer it sits in broth, the better.”
	“Like cheese,” I chuckled.  “Although I’ll bet it gets even denser with time.”
	“Mmmm,” he agreed, smiling a big wolfish grin.  “Is when is best.”
	He stood, and when he did so, he put one of his big paws on my lower back.  I froze, uncertain if he’d been aiming for a shoulder pat and simply missed, or if it was a northern gesture I was unfamiliar with.  Either way, the moment passed and his hand slipped away, and he went back over to the pot to get himself a second helping.
	“More for you?”  He called back to me.
	“No, I’m good,” I insisted, patting my stomach.  “It’s filling.”
	“You are too skinny,” he said as he ladled out soup into his bowl.  “Is why you are cold.”
	I chuckled.  “I’m cold because Klaus told me to leave my winter coat back on the ship, and like the fool I am, I listened to him.”
	“You call him by name,” the wolf said as he turned and headed back towards me.  “You are close.”
	It wasn’t a question, so I decided I wouldn’t treat it as one.  Nikita had been referring to Klaus by name, so I’d felt comfortable enough to do so myself, was the truth of it.  Normally I was more careful.  But if Klaus had sent this man to meet with me, that meant he trusted him.  And that might mean. . . .
	“So do you,” I replied, eyeing him as he sat down.  “You were a Scout.  How’d you get on a first-name basis with him?  The man can be friendly, but he usually insists on decorum to keep the ranks in line.”
	“I think is clear,” he said as he settled his weight beside me, the cot dipping somewhat, “that we were both of us more than just subordinate.  Ya?”
	I gave him a long, wary look.  “I. . . don’t know how clear it is,” I replied guardedly.  It wasn’t just my own secrets I was worried about keeping these days.  For a man like me, the penalty for heresy was a labor camp at best, a lashing or other form of punitive torture in the most likely case, and death, at worst.  For Klaus Richter, the stakes were higher.  He had station and an entire fleet at his disposal that they could rip from his grasp, and I knew the man well enough to know that would be worse for him than any form of punishment.  Even death.
	“Klaus and I share many things,” he said, using the ladle itself to eat his soup.  With his size muzzle, anything smaller would have been unsuitable.
	Oh no.  Bad line of thinking.  Correct course.
	“Including, I am supposing he intends. . . you,” he looked at me at that, with his forest green eyes boring into mine.
	Suddenly, it all fell into place.
	“Oh, son of a bitch!” I growled.  “He set me up with you?!  That fucking bastard-“
	“This is problem?”  The wolf followed me with his gaze as I stood, pacing towards the window.  I wasn’t even sure where I was going, I just suddenly felt the fierce need to stand and express how offended I was.
	“I’m sure he thought this was a brilliant idea,” I fumed, glaring through the yellowed old glass.  “He goes off and has his fun with some society hound and I’m supposed to accept it because he tosses an old friend my way.  And we get to spend our time in a rotting old room on the port while he prances about with our betters at some posh party.”
	“You don’t like room?”  Nikita asked, glancing around.  “I did not think was so bad.”
	“It’s not that!”  I insisted, literally stomping a foot for a moment before I realized how childish I was beginning to sound.  And how. . . offensive.
	I turned towards him, my posture slumping.  “I-I’m sorry,” I began.  “I didn’t mean to. . . .”
	He waited for me to continue, but after a time when it became clear I didn’t know what to fucking say any more, he simply stood and put his bowl aside on the crate, and began unshouldering his coat.
	“I understand,” he said at length, the thick winter clothing being set aside layer by layer, revealing to me the big wolf beneath.  And he was in fact big, the coat only added a little.  But with his back turned to me and nothing but an old cotton shirt stretched over the contours of his shoulders, the strength in his figure became all the more apparent.  If I’d angered him, I was in for it.
	“You care for him,” he said, surprising me.  He finally turned to regard me again at that, and he didn’t look angry.  Honestly if there was any emotion I could name there, it was probably pity.  Which didn’t make me feel any better, but at least I wasn’t about to get my face beat in.
	I leaned against the cold panes of the small window.  “Didn’t you?”  I asked, my voice coming out more hoarse than I intended.  “Doesn’t it bother you?  To be. . . discarded at his whim like this, only called on when he needs you for something?”
	He only shook his head.  “I never let myself care for that man,” he said in a stony voice, like someone who knew far better than me.  It was clear he was older than me by probably a decade or so, but the wisdom with which he spoke was surprising.  “For any man,” he said, his voice quieter now.  “It is not even as cruel a life in our lands as it is in yours, but it is still cruel.  That is why I travel.”
	“. . . yeah,” I murmured, dropping my muzzle.  “Me, too.”
	“Crueler still to be having feelings,” he said, “for a life of which there is no having.  Klaus knows this.  Whatever is happening on his ship, whether with me, with you, he knows it can only exist in shadow.  Even if you feel is real – to the rest of the world, you lie.  Ya?  Always lying.”
	I felt something prickle at the corners of my eyes.  Then there was that familiar pain resounding in my chest whenever I let my mind wander to this topic.  The memory of coming of age, awakening to the knowledge of what I was, that I happened to be attracted to the wrong gender.  There’d been a brief time when I was young when it had seemed so insignificant a detail of my being. . . until it became clear that the rest of the world took issue with it.  A lifetime of fear, and pain spread out before me, with no relief or escape in sight.  I could sail the entire world and never be free from this damnation.
	Nikita was right.  Klaus was right.  I was the one holding on to the hope for something impossible.  Maybe this was just Klaus’s way of putting some distance between us.
	Or maybe he was just a self-entitled Pedigree used to getting his own way and discarding people temporarily when it suited him to do so.  The fact was, with Klaus, I would never really know.
	But still.
	“It doesn’t bother you at all?”  I pressed, unwilling to let go of this.  “That he just set us up. . . to fuck, basically, as simple as shit.  Like giving a damn order?”  It made sense, of course.  Klaus was used to directing everything else in his life.
	Nikita only shrugged.  “I do not complain when game is scarce, and another hunter tells me where to find food.  Men like us, we are scarce game.  Especially in your country.”
	I let out a huff of breath, unable to keep a wry smile from my muzzle.  “Alright, I don’t like the hunting metaphor,” I muttered.  “But I see what you’re saying.”
	“I think point is,” he rumbled, reaching down and tugging his worn cotton shirt up over his head, revealing more wolf than I think I’d ever seen offered up to me, specifically for my viewing, in my life.  He followed by unclasping his heavy leather belt, the clang of the metal buckle drawing my gaze down.  “We are both our own man.  Ya?”
	I had to think about that more than was likely necessary.  The last few years of my life had been so committed to Klaus, to the way he’d changed my life and educated me, taught me a whole new world of knowledge and awakened me to the capabilities of my own mind, that I’d almost forgotten about the young cattle dog who’d struck out on his own and told his father to fuck off with his fists, set off into the world to find his destiny, whatever that might be.  I hadn’t even considered going to sea back then, but enlisting had been the quickest way to get as far from my birthplace as possible.
	“Yeah,” I agreed.  “I’m my own man.”
	“Then he does not tell you what to do this night,” he said.  “You do.”
	By then, his britches were coming off, and my mind had gone blank because his big, heavy sheath was hanging free and I was honestly trying to figure out if I’d even be capable of fitting all of him in my muzzle.  It was one of the most pleasant uncertainties I’d grappled with in a long time.
	“Alright,” I said, blowing out a breath.  “Fuck Klaus.  He’s not here tonight, by his own choice, so nothing I choose to do should be dictated by him.  And I’d. . . I’d like to get to know you better, Nikita.”
	The wolf grinned.  “And I you.”
	My gaze drifted down again, following a trail of lighter fur down the rounded curves of his abdominal muscles to a trail of almost entirely white fur that ended at his sheath.  It was almost cute how his coloration had worked out along his belly and nether regions, a soft hue of eggshell white in addition to being softer to the touch.  At least, that’s how it looked.  That’s what I was imagining.
	He kicked off his britches and stood there as if displaying himself for my approval.  I saw no hesitance or lack of confidence in either his placid expression or stature. . . and he had good reason.  He was a large, well-built creature, well-endowed by the look of it too, if the bulge at the bottom of his sheath was any indication.  And he likely knew it.
	He was bigger than Klaus, actually.  Not specifically his manhood (although time would tell on that front, I suppose) but just bigger all over, in general.  Taller, broader, with a bit more meat on his bones.  Not the kind of man whose contours were rigidly defined, but muscular and thick in the sort of way that was unpretentious.  He wasn’t a man who’d sculpted his body to be looked at, he was built for work, for the sort of strength required to pull sleds laden with supplies over long distances.  The Kadrush wolves employed the use of mules and sometimes even trained elk, but they were often a backup food supply rather than strictly needed beasts of burden.  I’d seen packs of the big northern wolves harnessing their own backs to the work more than once, when I’d been up north.
	God, did he have his harness with him?  Why did I suddenly want to know that so badly?
	He approached me, and I did nothing to stop him, only watched his large frame as he casually strode across the room towards where I was standing near the cloudy window.  The air near here was colder, the aging glass doing little to keep the chill of the night from poisoning this particular corner.  But at the moment, it was welcome.  The air in the room had suddenly gotten a lot thicker and hotter, and I found I was nearly choking on it.
	“You seem nervous,” he pointed out astutely as he came to stand beside me, or rather over me, being as he had a head and a half on my shorter frame.  His big palm, the paw pads on it scarred and rough-looking – and oh shit, they definitely were- made contact with the ruff along my cheek, brushing my fur aside in what was likely meant to be a gentle gesture.  The coarseness of his palm elicited all the right and all the wrong things in me at once.  The wariness of being roughly handled that I’d earned from a trying childhood, but the desire to be handled roughly that I’d gained later, in adulthood. 
	I have these moments sometimes when I realize how profoundly fucked-up I am.  This was one of them.  
	My eyes slid closed, the better aspects of the feelings winning out, and I leaned into his touch.  “Klaus trusts you,” I replied at length, letting out a breath.  “I’m trying.  It. . . .”
	For some reason I had trouble completing that statement for a time.  It’s not that I didn’t know what to say.  It’s just that sometimes it’s hard to get things out, even when you know the words you intend to use.  They just take a while to leave you.
	The northern hunters are well-known for their patience, and he was no exception.  His palm stayed where it was, the thick pad of his thumb toying at the loose locks of fur along my jawline.  He did nothing to break the silence, or even acknowledge it as awkward.  He just waited for me.
	“I usually take more time,” I finally got out, “to get to know a man.  The. . . one time I didn’t, it. . . it didn’t go well.  I’m more careful now.”
	“Mmmhhh,” he hummed, and his paw fell away from me.  My eyes snapped open at that.  It was like that part of my cheek had gotten used to the heat, and the absence made it feel ice cold.  When I looked up at him, he was staring back down at me calmly with those dark green eyes and a gentle, big-jowled smile.  “I have disrobed too soon, then?”	
	Straight to the point, then.  Well, like he’d said, maybe that was best.  For men like us.  Klaus would give me, at most, a day or two before he came to collect me for whatever port we were bound to next.  Other than a few misadventures in my youth, and one or two clumsy attempts in the past few years before I’d met Klaus, I had very little good experience under my belt. . . as it were.  This was a chance to sink my paws into a new man, a very different man from the ones I’d been with in the past, and see how I felt about it.
	“When you were with Klaus,” I spoke up, my throat feeling a bit dry.  “How’d he. . . y-you know. . . treat you?”
	He tilted his head down at me.  “What is it you are meaning?”
	“Well,” I licked my teeth.  “You’re. . . quite a lot bigger than me.  Than him, even.  I’m just wondering-“
	He chuckled, a deep baritone noise that both excited and unnerved me.  “You know him by now, I sure,” he waved a paw.  “It depend on mood.  When he is depressed, he must be ‘top dog’.  King of mountain.”
	“And you’re the mountain,” I muttered, knowingly.  Oh boy did I ever.  Klaus’s moods and tantrums were legendary, and he was the sort of man who raised himself up by putting others down.  Physically.  Like actually beneath him.  At least his bullying didn’t manifest as torture or murder of his subordinates.  I’d heard horror stories of some of the other powerful Pedigrees in the Royal Navy.
	“But when he is in good mood,” Nikita said, “it is like. . . he wants to be punished.  Maybe for all wrongs he does other times?”  He shrugged, haplessly.  “I do not pretend to know.”
	“Pedigrees,” I agreed with a light snort, my eyes roving his figure again.  It was impossible not to when he was so close.  He seemed to notice, and his black jowls curled up again in a smile. 
	I was certain my ears were blushing, but what could I do?  
	“I’d say it’s strange,” I cleared my throat.  “That he’d pick someone your. . . size.  But honestly, that’s exactly the sort of thing he’d do.  He’s the type of man who’d see it as a challenge.  I’ve always thought one of the reasons he first became interested in me was because when I first came on his crew, I hated him and wanted as little to do with his advances as possible.  I thought he was toying with me.  It took me months to realize his interest was in earnest.”
	“Your eyes travel,” he said pointedly, his gaze following mine.  I froze, like a thief caught in the act, but he only laughed again.  “Why not let your hands?  I expect nothing.”
	“Then why let me?”  I asked, even as I was doing exactly as he said, my paws reaching forward to sink into the soft, tufted fur along his chest.  And dear God, it was everything.  Just allowing myself to finally touch him was such a release, but to feel that his fur was exactly as thick and warm and full in my hands as I’d hoped was validating bliss. 	
	“If you take a taste of meat on your tongue,” he rumbled cryptically, “you are more like to make a meal of it.”
	“That your hope?”  I glanced briefly up at him.  “That I’ll abandon my usual reservations and dive into bed with you before we’ve really had a chance to get to know one another?  Make a ‘meal’ of you?”  I was trying to give him a coy expression, but honestly, I felt transparent before the wolf.  The way he looked at me, it was like he knew me through and through.  He didn’t, of course.  It’s not as though wolves had some spiritual ability to discern inner thoughts or read desires.
	They did, however, have a very good nose.  And that’s probably all he needed at the moment to know that at the very least, my body was no longer on the fence.
	“We will not both fit in bed,” he said in a low tone, leaning in just enough that I felt the heat of his muzzle.  “May have to enjoy this meal on your knees.”  
The presence of his body moving into my physical space literally warmed the air, the musky scent of his fur, like pine bark and ice, filled my nostrils, and the way he’d pushed in against me had forced my palms to brush sideways along his chest, finding the edge of one of his nipples beneath his thick fur.  And fuck if that didn’t nearly undo me there.
	“I suppose,” I barely breathed, “there is something exciting about the unknown.  And you aren’t entirely a stranger, after all.  Nikita. . . .”
	My palms slid down his broad chest, around his hips and to the base of his tail, where they settled for a time.  I could feel the dip at the end of his spine, his build similar enough to Klaus that there was something comfortingly familiar there.  My claws toyed at the spot as he braced an elbow on the wall above my shoulder, coming to rest his hips against mine.  Really, his hips were more resting against my stomach, our height difference considered.  I could feel the outline of his sheath, and the solid, warm weight of what rested beneath.  
	Abandoning all pretense, I closed my eyes for a moment and let out a long breath.  “What,” I asked at length, “was your last name, again?”
	“Ilfarimov,” he stated.  “But it is not surname, as you call it.”
	“Right, it’s your pack’s name,” I nodded, dizzily.  “Your family.  Right?  Do you have living family?”
	He nodded.  “I am not from home because pack is gone, or even to leave behind grief.  I work. . . bring back coin and supply.  Each summer.”
	“I’m sure it’s a good excuse to explain away not being married, too,” I guessed.
	“It is that too,” he confirmed.
	“So other than Klaus,” I continued.  “Other lovers?”
	“I do not-“
	“Men,” I corrected, sighing.  “I meant other men.”
	“Sometimes,” he said vaguely.
	“But not now.”
	He shook his head.  “Not even Klaus.  For some time.”  He flicked an ear, curiously.  “This would bother you?  You are with Klaus.”
	“Right, but Klaus set us up,” I reminded him.  “He doesn’t care.  I just don’t want to hurt some other man I don’t even know.”
	He snorted out through his teeth, looking mirthful.  “You are emotional man, ya?  So many worries of the heart.  World is too cruel for men like you.”
	“You’ve never loved someone?”  I pressed.  “Not ever?  You’ve just. . . spent a lifetime not caring about the men you’ve been involved with, and. . . and that’s been enough for you?”
	For the first time, he grew tense, his expression souring as he looked down at me.  No.  Maybe not sour, but certainly uncomfortable.  “Have you?”  He finally answered, without answering.  
	“Loved someone?”  I stilled, dropping my gaze.  “I-I don’t know. . . .”
	“Is not easy question, is it?”  He asked, his tone the one of someone turning the tables on a debate partner.  I felt a stab of guilt at that.  Maybe I’d gone too far there. 
	“What about,” I tried to move past it, “hopes, goals-“
	“You are trying to know me,” he finally observed.  “That is why so many questions.”
	“Yes,” I admitted.  “I told you wanted to get to know you.  Especially if-“
	“You cannot know a man in one night,” he said, flatly.  “No matter what you do with him.”
	“Fair,” I agreed, flicking my ears back.  My palms slid down over the slope of his rear, claws tracing rivulets in the fur spanning down to his thighs.  “But you can’t fault me for trying.”
	His expression eased back towards one of amusement, which was comforting.  “You want know my favorite color?  More things about me?  That make you feel better?”
	“Well I know your favorite food,” I said, glancing over at the stew pot.  
	“Gold,” he said, and I blinked up at him.  It took me a moment.
	“O-oh,” I stammered, then gave him a quizzical look.  “Gold?  Really?”
	“Mm-hm,” he nodded his big muzzle.  “Like the sun.  Or the leaves here in fall.  Is very rare color where I come from.”
	“I suppose it would be,” I realized.  “And. . . I suppose I’m fond of it, too.  It’s a beautiful fur color.”
	“And eye color,” he said meaningfully, locking his gaze with mine.
	I smiled a bit.  “You’re sweeter than you let on.  You probably deserved better than Klaus.”
	“So do you,” he said, stating it like it was a fact.
	“Ah,” I stroked the base of his tail, “I mean, you don’t really know me.  Or the things I’ve done with my short life.  You can’t know what I really deserve.”
	“No,” he agreed, “but you care.  You care for him.  And he does not deserve someone who cares for him.”
	“Harsh,” I swallowed.  But I knew what he meant.  Klaus had done a lot for me over the last few years.  Essentially taught me to be literate, helped me along through my Naval career, lending his knowledge and experience to me – opportunities never afforded to a man of my breeding or background.  I owed him more than I could ever repay.  If that meant he’d never really care for me, or simply never confessed it, I suppose that was alright.
	It’s not as if there was a future for men like us, anyway.  Not together.
	I gave the wolf a light shove, and he eased back away from me, looking to me questioningly until I spoke up.  “Not near the window,” I explained.
	He looked over my shoulder at that, then gave a knowing nod, and for some reason walked over towards the still steaming stew pot as I moved back towards the cot.  When he picked up the stew pot by its handle and walked it towards the window, his intentions became clear soon enough.  He held it near the window for a few moments, letting the steam fully cloud the already tiny glass panes, then set the pot back down near the stove and looked to me.
	“. . .thanks,” I said, my hands on my knees.  “You can never be too careful.”
	He didn’t argue with me there, only strode back towards me where I was sitting, and reached down to rub his big paw over my ears, stroking them back several times.  I tried, very hard, not to melt.
	“Can I see you?”  He asked at length.  I had to blink myself back into existence, before nodding mutely.  I stood slowly, unshouldering my leather coat first, then tugging my cotton shirt out of the hem of my britches.  He reached down and helped me pull it up over my head, clearly wanting some part in the process.  
	I’d barely let the shirt drop on the cot before his big, calloused paws were all over me, running down the far coarser fur of my biceps, chest and abdomen.  I returned my own hands to his chest, jealously stroking the soft, downy expanse.
	“I’m so envious of your fur,” I sighed, pressing my nose into his clavicle.
	“You would not be if you are having to brush it,” he assured me with a chuckle I felt rumble through me.  “Yours – much more practical.  Less shed.”
	“I don’t shed much,” I agreed.  “That part’s nice.  Less time spent grooming, cleaning my uniform.”  I reached down and unbuckled my britches, one, two, three buttons, as we spoke.  In time, I stood so I could push them down my hips and be rid of them entirely.  
	Quite unexpectedly, the moment my last garment hit the floor, he pushed forward against me and his paws found my hips, pushing me off-balance.  I had a brief moment of panic, before remembering I was on a bed and he was just pushing me to my back.  Still, it had happened so quickly and my knee-jerk reaction to being in any way overpowered was always, always to stay on the defensive.
	Except before I could so much as say anything, save a huffed noise that almost (embarrassingly) qualified as a bark, I heard his bulk settle to the ground.  I then felt his paws circling over the ridge of my hips to my thighs, spreading them right at what was now for him, nose level.  
	I had a pretty good idea where he was going from there, I just hadn’t expected he’d go right for it.  Maybe beneath the cool exterior, he’d been aching for his chance this whole time.  Usually I was the one who couldn’t wait to get their muzzle around someone, Klaus had never been very giving in that area.  So this was all a bit new for me. . . but not unwelcome.
	“I-uhhh-“ I don’t know what I’d been planning to say to Nikita, but it never happened.  His big muzzle had been snuffling its way down my stomach towards my sheath, and that’s the moment he made contact.  I hadn’t really had time to look, but I’d wager to guess what with the suddenness of his advances and my general nervousness at having a new partner, I’d barely been an inch out of my sheath.  But he found that inch.
	He took the whole of my sheath into his mouth, coarse fur be-damned, and rolled his tongue specifically over my tip, stroking lazy circles back and forth as he sucked me further out.  My paws scrabbled for purchase, finding a place to settle finally on his thighs, where I could only hope my claws weren’t digging into his skin.  If they were, he never complained.
	He coaxed my length free pretty quickly after that, cupping the entirety of it in his large tongue, and artfully avoiding scraping me with his teeth.  The subtle movements of his head, coupled with far more of the busy work being done with his tongue, reminded me of something. . . .
	Oh, right.  This was the way Klaus liked to be sucked off.  Made sense.  
	I chuckled, breathlessly.  “Y. . . you do this the same way I. . . do. . . .”
	“Mmm?”  He let my cock pop free from his muzzle for just a moment, licking his chops.  “Then I will enjoy my turn, I think.”
	“I promise you will,” I swore, digging my fingers into the worn sheets of his cot as he once again swallowed me up.  His palms pressed flat on my inner thighs, spreading me further for his ministrations, and I let him.  From there on out he adopted a simple, but very effective rhythm, bobbing his muzzle along my length in slow strokes, making the most of his tongue on the upstroke.
	At first I kept my eyes closed, focusing on the sensations alone.  The feel of him, the smell of our two scents joining, and good God, the blissfully obscene sounds.  I suppose I was used to doing this on a ship, where the ever-present sounds of the sea and the creaking of the ship might drown some of the noise of the actual act out, but I swear I’ve never heard someone sucking a cock quite so loudly.  And it was glorious.
	Eventually though, I cracked my eyes open to stare down my torso at the large northern wolf as he went to work on me.  It’s hard to describe just how it feels, seeing a creature so large and so powerful with the most sensitive part of your body in their muzzle.  Thrilling, most certainly.  Captivating.  Absolutely, most certainly, a sight I would forever remember and replay in lonelier times.
	I don’t know how long I lasted, but right about when my toes were curling into his thighs and my tail was beating a steady pace against the edge of the bed and I was certain I was done for, he released me from his mouth and dove lower, startling me.  Just like when he’d pushed me down into the bed, it caught me off-guard.  His paws had at some point moved lower to cup my rear, and he used his position kneeling beside the bed as leverage, physically lifting my hips up until my calves had no choice but to rest over his shoulders.  I grabbed helplessly at the sheets once more, and once more they did not avail me.
	The warmth of his tongue as it licked up beneath my tail was molten, and I actually cried out, clamping a hand over my muzzle to stifle anything further.  As rare as having Klaus’s muzzle around my cock was, this was even more so.  I imagine he thought it beneath his dignity. . . although he certainly didn’t seem to think it was beneath mine.
	Nikita. . . it’s not even like it was some kind of concession for him, he worked his tongue up there like he’d been long denied the chance.  And once my legs were stable over his shoulders, one of his paws came around to grip me and begin stroking me again.  As amazing as his warm, slick muzzle had been, the roughness of his paw was almost better, somehow.  Or maybe I was just really into his paws.
	The dual sensation of his tongue circling and thrusting shallowly inside my entrance, and his big paw stroking me firm and fast, was too much to bear for very long.  I wish I could say I’d been able to enjoy it for any respectable amount of time, but alas. . . .
	When my knot popped free of my sheath and I came with a shuddering groan, I felt very little of it make it to my stomach, which meant his paw was likely a mess.  I looked down blearily at the sight of him lazily stroking me through the last of it, and moaned weakly.  He’d lifted his muzzle back up and was lathing his large pink tongue along his wrist, palm, and eventually, my stomach.  Cleaning up.
	I reached for his slick palm, and with a tilt of his head, he offered it to me.  I used it to dizzily pull myself back up into a sitting position, to which he merely smiled.  
	“You can rest a while,” he offered.
	“No,” I shook my head, clumsily letting my legs down.  He rose to a standing position for a moment, then sat down beside me, the cot dipping under his weight.  I caught the unmistakable deep pink length hanging heavily between his legs, and knew his enthusiasm for what he’d done for me had not been faked.
	“I don’t want to risk falling asleep,” I admitted, not afraid to confess the truth to him.  I wasn’t accustomed to going first.  “Besides,” I murmured as I sat on the floor before him, the cot was low enough and his weight made it sink enough that I really didn’t even need to kneel, “you’ve made me want to show you up.”
	“Does not need be contest with me,” he insisted, leaning back comfortably in the cot and settling a paw gently on the back of my neck, stroking my unruly fur.  “Everything with Klaus is battle.  Must always be, so he can come out on top.  With me. . . no need.  We can be equals.”
	I gave a pleasant hum in the back of my throat as my hand slid down along one of his big footpaws, feeling the contours of it, and the other moved up along his inner thigh.  I drank in the sight of his length, hanging there heavily, all for me.
	“Then, let’s just enjoy the evening together,” I said, brushing my muzzle down along his thick cock, teasingly, “equally.”