august 01, 2025 | ~8000 words tagged: nsfw, m/m, hypnosis

Expiration Date

Jack didn’t smoke. The habit never gripped him; sure, he’d had a cigarette when he was offered one a couple years ago, but he’d never returned for another. Heat expanding in his lungs was anything but relaxing, and he distinctly remembered doubling over forward, coughing, and trying to regain his composure afterwards. That, and taking another drag soon after, because it didn’t feel right to stop on a clumsy blunder.

On the balcony, hands on the metal railing – he stared down and avoided the places where the coating flaked and left splotches of rust – his claws felt empty. With the music thrumming away behind him, dulled through a low-pass filter made of glass sliding doors and interior walls, only the kickdrum reached his ears.

The clatter of plastic and rolling bearings slid from left to right behind him, and a wolf stepped out on the balcony. A glimpse of the track blaring inside escaped into the air like steam. For a moment, the cymbals and vocals and roar of conversation fighting for attention among the somewhat-slurred sing-along was clear. Then, it was sealed away as the door closed and the wolf claimed the opposite side of the balcony railing.

The outside felt more sheltered than the inside. Which of them was really sequestered off in their own realm, anyway? The inside was boxed on all sides by orange-peel drywall and congratulatory decorations, confetti on the floor, away from the elements that the two found themselves standing in; closed off by locks, rent, operating hours, and notions of private space. But the outside was calm and dreary and dead and only a few glows from windows and streetlights kept the two company, not even moving their mouths.

Mist fell upon scales and fur and the wind was chilly when it hit the droplets of water that blanketed them more than it poured down. The inside felt alive. That private space became the public spectacle, and their outdoor space was a different kind of privacy, the plain-spoken voice in a restaurant grabbing less attention than an intentional whisper, and Jack craved that tactile feedback of cigarette between his fingers now more than ever; a feeling he did not know well at all, but desired nonetheless.

Something was missing. It was about ritual more than it was anything to do with the smoke; expectations of those pensive, reflective moments being punctuated with something to do, whether the nicotine itself was calming or the repeated behavior of finding oneself always out on the porch, the balcony, on top of the metal stairs for a fire exit, looking out and having something to stay occupied.

Did the action make you ruminate more or less, he wondered. Did staying occupied make it easier to focus, or was the goal having a lack of thoughts at all? He looked over at the wolf, whom he expected to suddenly procure a pack of smokes from his leather jacket and offer him one. They both looked at the skyline.

He had on a leather jacket, khakis, and a pair of boots more suited to trudging in floor-grease and mud than the city. Jack didn’t see his shirt or his eyes in the brief moment he watched his pocket when his arm shifted.

“Everybody wants to tell you about how they’ve cracked the code when they’re about three beers deep.” the wolf said, lingering on the first syllable. He spoke to the city sprawling beneath them, but only one person was around to hear it. “I never know which conversations are going to be bullshit and in one ear and out the other – and which I’ll wake up thinking about with a headache the next day.”

The dragon pursed his lips when he exhaled as if blowing a concentrated stream. It was cold enough that the condensation looked like smoke anyway.

“Isn’t that what always happens at these sorts of things?” Jack asked.

“Sure is.” The wolf turned his head with a pause, and they locked eyes for a moment; the lupine’s ice-blue irises were difficult to read. “Although, me? I’ve only had two. That means my rambling’s not as grandiose. No performance to it, just chatter.”

Jack put two fingers to his lips and blew air that he warmed deep within his chest, as close to a flicker of flame as he could. He wouldn’t even need a lighter if he smoked; he was a dragon. The thought almost made him chuckle. Only then did he realize how ridiculous it probably looked to the wolf, who wasn’t even commenting on it, absorbed in his own thoughts now that there was an audience.

“Socializing at parties really feels like peacocking and strutting around at times, with all the anecdotes and observations and blowing hot air.” he replied. They didn’t know each other. It felt intimate. The weather was starting to annoy him. He stuck around.

“I feel like I like these things most during the rising action, when people are just starting to feel the electric buzz of chatter and you don’t know what’s next or who you’ll bump into. I usually scatter when it gets too loud or the karaoke starts.” the wolf said.

“That’s why I’m out here. I slink off until it winds down and people are wandering off and it gets a little more quiet again.”

“I just assumed you were lighting a smoke.”

“Thought about it.”

“Even without one, it’s more relaxing out here.”

“We’ll soon both walk right back into it though.”

“Yeah. I suppose we can’t get away from the blabbering.”

“We’re doing the same thing out here, though, aren’t we.”

“Maybe the difference is that we’re a little less tipsy. Less room to make fools of ourselves.” Jack said, turning to rest his side against the railing and fully focus on the wolf instead, who reciprocated.

“I could still end up making a fool of myself yet.” the wolf said.

“You always run the risk of that at a function like this, I guess. I’m enjoying it. I clearly have enough fun to keep showing up to these things.”

“Me too. The conversations are pretty good overall. That’s probably the difference in my mind. Get too far in, and it’s reduced to only putting on a show to make everyone laugh. Get just the right amount of social bravado, and you’re having a conversation that feels effortless, where you get the sense of completing each other’s sentences.” His boots turned on the concrete to face the dragon.

“Even if it’s really the alcohol finishing those thoughts for you.”

“Exactly.”

“I’m gonna go grab another second beer. It’s been long enough since the second that I’ll count it as not-three.”

Jack chuckled and wondered how many cigarettes he would have gone through over the course of the night as the wolf exited behind him, the raucous dancefloor’s energy slightly less abrasive than it was moments ago in that second of the door opening. His scales had a sheen of liquid on them by this point, and his claws moved to his lips as he took another long drag of the phantom cigarette, exhaled with flames in his chest, and stepped back inside, reinvigorated.

Warmth rushed over him, and everything was a blur, weaving in between bodies, trying not to leave that slick residue behind on anyone he brushed; chatter here, say hello there, circle the outskirts without going to the dancefloor, hit the charcuterie board once, another cup of water. He thought about the wolf; didn’t even get his name in all of that. His mind lingered on that sense of how trite everything felt outside, how they deconstructed it like the players at a chessboard looking down at it – and how inconsequential and navel-gazing it all was consider it that way, now being inside the thrum, hearing the music and the voices rise up in a free-flowing roar. The crowd moved and breathed as a single collective organism, and he was conjoined with it.

He turned around and circled back around to the charcuterie board, toothpick sinking in salami to throw on his miniature plastic plate. Thumb running over the texture, he wondered if the faux-ornate scalloped edge was really important for a disposable thing, stained with grease, for the one use it had. It added to the mood, though. Everyone here tonight was living, subvocalizing the word living with extra emphasis as if to convey the importance of putting on an extravagant show, like a rebellion against… he never even finished the thought as to against what. All that mattered was that it sounded nice and compelling and occupied his thoughts as he drifted around.

He concluded that gold trim on the plastic plate was a necessity for hors d’oeuvre and champagne; he tossed it in the trash after finishing his selection and went back to mingling.

After a while, the words all blended together and the tangents took too long to get to the good part. Laughing became fewer and farther between, even if the company itself stayed good, and, with a long yawn, he looked to find a way to make his exit. The drink in his hand had turned warm, and he threw the cup in the garbage without swigging the rest of it down.

Orienting himself to the door, he locked eyes with that wolf again, turning around to take a last glance at the party with his hand on the door’s metal pushbar. He nodded his head upwards and waited for a response; the dragon froze for a moment, then made his way over with a flutter in his chest. The wolf was outside by the time Jack caught up.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he said, breath strained from the slight jog. They walked along the pavement, under the stars, dull embers of the gathering left to smolder. Idle conversations and shouts were replaced by the rush of cars going past them. The moon was obscured, but at least the mist had stopped falling.

“It’s Michael.” he said with a grin.

---

A furred hand wrapped around the dragon’s back and traced his scales like an etching. One laid atop the other, wolf caught between the sagging couch cushions and the mound of muscle that rested his chin against the lupine’s shoulder. Every exhale was felt as one.

“So, what’s next for you?” Jack asked.

“Did I mention that I hate that question? It’s the sword of Damocles for any upcoming grad.”

They shifted, and the dragon let out a small sigh.

“They threw a little celebration for us at work and I couldn’t even avoid it there. Let alone our own sort of thing here at the school,” he muttered. There wasn’t an ounce of animosity in his voice. “‘Oh, what are you going to do with your life?’ ‘Now that you’re done with this part, what’s the next seventy-something years going to look like?’”

“Cut them some slack. They’re just happy to make chatter, and probably excited for you.”

“I know, and we’ll probably be in the same spot ourselves in a decade. But for now it’s new, and I’m worried more about wrapping up finals and hearing back about a job more than I am about the time when I’ll be a little past thirty.”

The dragon moved retracted his head to to look the wolf in those striking, blue eyes again.

“Oh yeah? And what job is that?” he asked.

It was almost a little too warm in the room; Jack thought about getting up, going for some water, or stretching his legs. He opted not to.

“Technical writing. Sterile corporation out in SoCal.”

They touched noses and foreheads before the dragon relaxed again, rumbling in his chest. His hand idly stroked and patted the wolf’s fur, closing his eyes in the meantime.

“Long way away from here.”

Their sentences got farther and farther apart, and body language took precedence over the spoken word.

“Yeah.”

They twisted and turned until they were on their sides, the dragon staring off into the living room at a TV that was turned off. Not a light was on, and the wolf fit the contour of his back, furred claw dragging along his shoulder.

“And what about you, big guy?”

“Me? Trying not to think about it. You’re right about the sword over our heads, but I’ve been trying to make it vanish by closing my eyes.”

Mike wrapped his arms under the dragon’s and gently toyed with his chest.

“Doesn’t sound like it’s been working.”

“Not a fucking bit.”

Mike chuckled.

“Oh, hey. Grab your phone.”

The dragon was slow to react, reaching for it before he could muster a “hmmm?”

“Unlock it.” the wolf said, leaning to look over his shoulder, wrapped around him like a cloak. The dragon complied and watched as the arms holding him tight moved to take his phone between them, and he watched a new contact get added number by number, locking it again and tucking it under the other’s arm.

Their quiet was only broken by the wolf, waiting about a quarter of a minute.

“Turn around, Jack.” he said.

Their lips met, their eyes closed, and they exhaled in unison, chests together under the unlit room.

---

The cool after-midnight air felt refreshing, and there was an elated buzz coursing through his scales as he navigated through the landscaping and signposting he’d committed to heart in the last four years. His lungs felt the chill the same way his scales did, and he’d gotten a little sweaty being so close to that wolf that he needed this sort of thing to counterbalance everything his mind was racing through, dwelling on the moment in hindsight. It was like waking up at the end of a dream, refreshed.

Only then did he realize his jacket was still thrown haphazardly over the arm of the wolf’s couch a mile and a half down the road. His mind was elsewhere and he didn’t need it right now. Returning home, he shut the door and locked it in rote motion, kicking off his shoes and slinking over to the bathroom, brushing his teeth, and the adrenaline from that night faded back into normalcy and routine once more. When the alarm rang, he swiped to disable it and unlock his phone, and, beneath all the contacts and idle asynchronous chatter, buried in the recent apps list, was that wolf’s contact page.

Senioritis flared worse than any other acute attack yet, and he wondered why he even had to be present for the last two weeks. With the bulk of the discussion being about “wrapping up” and “tying off loose ends,” the victory lap was a waste of time. It was getting warmer outside and everything was green again. Winters this far north were a pain in the ass, but part of him missed the white sheet covering all the grass and the serene, untouched look of snow. Things felt slower, like a snapshot in stasis, during those winter months of monotonous landscape. Now it was merely wet, and gravel was visible, and mud was in every doorway like a river delta fanning out. Moments were fast but the weeks dragged.

He thought about Mike during a scheduled peer critique, weighing someone’s argument on the scales and trying to to clarify their wording, sharpen their prose, and understand a nuanced take about a book he’d never even read in the first place. On autopilot, he scratched feedback in red pen all over the margins, underlining here, circling there, using the double-spaced line height to sandwich his thoughts between theirs, impressions in the moment to sort through later and email them with revision ideas.

The night before was etched in his brain, and he tilted and observed and plucked at the relief. His jacket was still there, rather than on the back of his chair. His mind drifted to cigarettes again. It wasn’t enough to distract him, but every so often, some random piece of information would send him daydreaming again. Irrational, some part of his mind hoped to see a notification among all the other messages, but from the wolf instead.

“What do you plan on doing next?” never strayed from its perch above his head, classes filled with that damned question, everyone asking each other both as the guilty party and the one wronged by hearing it. Grad school, work, moving, no clue, gap year, haven’t thought about it, already got accepted to a program, trying my luck with applications, haven’t heard back, and, man, have you heard about these new interview processes they’re doing with video calls? He knew every answer to the question inside and out. It made him anxious and itchy.

His own essay got handed back to him, splotches of ink circling the serif font like vultures on a carcass; roadkill in his hand, nose upturned in disgust, sick of it after spending two months of effort on it. After graduation he’d likely be proud of the work again, and he knew as much, but the recency made it appear vulgar; he put the essay in his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and went for another iced coffee.

Sprawled out on the couch, he heard his apartment door open and his roommate walk in.

“How’re interviews going?” he asked.

“I’m not having fun. I have a couple that are ongoing and it’s a scheduling nightmare.” they replied.

He heard the fridge open and shut and the leaves rustle out the window with every gust of wind. Another overcast day, natural light cascading in dim, diffuse waves. Then, the hiss of an aluminum can opening.

“I have to prep for another one in an hour.”

“Hey, best of luck. You’ll do great.”

“It’ll be nice to have it over. I’d be down to hang out after if you’re free.”

Jack appreciated that they didn’t reciprocate and ask him the same question. They shut the door to their room, and he reached down to the bag at his feet and pulled out his annotated essay, ready to chew on all the feedback. He lost himself in the arguments and footnotes and paper structure until his roommate came back out, prompting him to sit up instead of lay on his back, and the rest of the night was a blur of movies and jokes.

---

The alarm sounded again, and the dragon tossed and turned under his sheets, scrambling towards the nightstand to snooze it. Fifteen minutes; and another fifteen minutes later, he rolled out panicked about being late to his morning class. Throwing on a shirt and pants, he eyeballed the coffeemaker and decided to shake some instant coffee in the bottom of a mug, pour some hot water in, and drink it like a shot. The lukewarm burnt notes stayed with him as he went out the door, only half-jogging.

Breakfast hadn’t been a part of his routine in probably seven years, but his stomach rumbled up a storm through his morning’s class. Having the plastic foodservice tray in his hands was a form of relief, and he slid it across the metal bars, grabbing things at whim and throwing them on his plate, the rest of the day entirely his with no interruptions; although he hadn’t really considered what he was going to use all that freedom for.

As he ate, a hand tapped his shoulder from behind and he leaned back, looking up and over his shoulder. A familiar furred face grinned and laid a jacket over his shoulder.

“Hey, you forgot this,” the wolf said. “Mind if I sit here?”

“Oh, totally! And thanks a bunch. Left it in the… rush of everything that happened.” His heart skipped a beat.

“Figured I’d catch you again at some point and took it with me just in case. Not that you’ll need it much longer with the week’s forecast.”

The butterflies settled in Jack’s stomach as they took turns describing how banal their classes were and how it’s practically already all over anyway. He moved the jacket to his lap. With their plates cleaned, the wolf stared down at the lack of food and then back up at the dragon, adjusting his glasses and realigning them.

“You free for the rest of the day? I was going to drive a little ways out in the woods and destress. Seems like we won’t see rain until tomorrow. You’re welcome to come.”

They walked out from the dining hall and carried on until they split at an intersection and Jack found himself rummaging through his room looking for a black plastic case to take with him; then a rain jacket, a bottle of water, and his phone.

Gravel crunched underfoot and they met again in the parking lot, getting everything situated in the trunk of the SUV.

“I didn’t know you played.”

“Mostly for fun, but if we’re going to be sitting around a fire, I think it’s one of those things that you have to do.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to go to all that effort, but since you’re here… There’s a good spot about a mile walk from parking where you’ve got a cozy place to build one and sit around it. The logs look haphazard but they want it that way on purpose; you won’t even get a splinter.”

Acoustic guitar plucks came from the radio instead of his claws, and they remained quiet in fear of running out of conversation before the rest of the afternoon had started.

Upon arrival they opened the trunk and retrieved their things: jacket, guitar, and Mike grabbed a six-pack and a lighter before throwing the door shut.

“This way.” he pointed with his thumb. Fifteen-or-so minutes later, they were in a clearing right as he described; rough hewn wood that was evidently sculpted by human hands to look as if the perfect untouched nature, as if to be what you considered a wilderness spot to look like rather than what you’d actually happen across. Idyllic, perhaps too evenly spaced around the indented fire pit, and exactly what he was hoping for. Jack mostly watched as the wolf maneuvered logs into place, stacking them in the rough shape of a cylindrical tower; occasionally putting his hand on the bark.

“It’s about airflow.” he said, gesturing at his creation, bending over to get close and light the leaves at the base.

“That’s the secret to building a fire?”

“Yeah.”

It took a few tries to really catch. Conversation filled the gaps and they watched the fire whittle away, occasionally finding reason to stir it around and prod at it. Although the days were longer than they were in the winter, the sunset still caught them off guard in the stretch of time they considered “just arriving;” ash laid beneath the dwindling logs.

Unclasping the guitar case, he listened to the crackles and wondered why he didn’t have the impulse to set the wood ablaze with his breath while they fiddled with the lighter earlier. Their chatter gave way to him strumming and singing for a moment, and the shadows soon stretched longer as the last remnants of the sunset moved beyond the horizon.

Michael tapped his foot and smiled, nodding along with the tempo; he buttoned his jacket closer as the winds started to bite. A few empty cans were neatly packed back away to leave no remnant.

“You didn’t ever record anything, did you?” he asked.

The dragon left the guitar across his lap, claws laying on the strings, pressed flat.

“Not really. I always had the desire to, though.”

“I think you should. Genuinely surprised you haven’t.”

Jack’s hand tensed and toyed with the strings before muting them again.

“Probably… I always loved the thought of playing live for a crowd. Not ever, like, celebrity rockstar status, but playing some dive.”

“Yeah?”

“It stops right there though, only an idea. I listen to some indie album like the one we threw on driving here and I fantasize about what it would be like to be the one who made it. Sleepless nights, absorbed in creating something.”

“You clearly kept up practicing.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t done much more than that. It’s like, I’ve learned in case I somehow end up on tour, but… I daydream about it instead. I’ll never accidentally find myself in that situation, but the impulse to ask ‘what if?’ never fades.” he said. He tilted the guitar flat and rolled his claws against the lacquered surface. “You ever do that, Mike?”

“Not a bit.” The wolf brought his hand to his chin and paused. “I stay in the moment and don’t think too far past it. Daydreaming seems like an action you do in absence of something else. I like staying occupied.”

He finished the last of their cans, throwing it in his bag.

“Plus, daydreams don’t have an end in sight, usually.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“I hate overstaying.”

They both watched the fire, volume receding from moments ago.

“Definite ends make me much more willing to do things. The moment you go ‘Let’s go grab a bite to eat’ after a social gathering; or, say, when this fire’s out, and we don’t fill it, and it burns out, and we head home: it’s an expiration date, and there’s comfort in that.” the wolf said.

The dragon stayed silent.

“Daydreaming usually dwells in possibilities and wishes about the moment itself but none of the consequences after. You’re playing on stage, but what about the night after? What about when you’ve played the same setlist day in and day out? Surely the luster goes away.”

He bent forward and tossed a dry leaf in the fire, watching it engulf and float through the air.

“What then?”

“I guess I’ve never gotten that far,” the dragon said with a grin.

“Ready to head back to the car?”

“Yeah. It’s getting chilly. Let’s clean everything up.”

The path back down to the parking lot felt shorter, giving the impression that they were barely a stone’s throw away from the road the whole time. At one point, they stopped for a photo of the moon reflecting in a small pond covered in trees; not to include themselves, but to capture the serene environment as it was. They threw the guitar in the trunk and the wolf brought it down with a thud, making the car lights fade. The moon illuminated the lot, only one solitary car remaining. He wrapped a hand around the dragon’s back.

“Got a lot colder than I expected, actually. Wind makes it noticeable.” Jack said, moving his hand to his hip, overlaid on the soft fur digits.

“You have anything making you wake up early tomorrow?” Michael asked, rolling and tapping his fingers. They didn’t move; they only pressed against the other’s scales.

“Not really.”

“Want to lay around for a bit more before we go?”

They moved to the back door and the dragon opened it and jumped in, wolf following behind, until they leaned into each other in a clump.

“Whatever happened to a clear-cut escape when things end, hmm?”

“Well, y’know.” the wolf said, stopping abruptly.

“Does this count as starting something new? Wrapping up the chat at the fire and having something else kick off?”

“I’m not so sure about that – but I am sure it’s a time-honored story to bend your own personal maxims when there’s a cute guy involved.” He tried to hide his blush.

“A cute guy, huh?” he asked, moving a claw to dance at the wolf’s chin.

“I’ve wondered a couple times if you were shy and taking it slow or just clueless.”

“Little bit of column A, little bit of column B.”

“Glad I was on the right track.”

Jack wrapped his arms around the wolf’s shoulders and tugged him closer, sandwiched between his fur and the door. Michael tipped his head to nestle right in the dragon’s shoulder, and aside from their breaths and the occasional pop and creak of shifting suspension, only cicadas could be heard outside in their long drones. It reminded him of the party balcony again; the seat wasn’t that comfortable, his arm was sort of pinched, he’d adjust the temperature if he could. And he overlooked all of it.

Fireflies dotted the window, and between the coy blush and the wolf’s muzzle on his shoulder, those gentle teases, he felt something he couldn’t immediately place a name to stir inside of him. In that moment the wolf was his; and he wanted more of it. His mouth moved ahead of his mind.

“Just breathe out for me and relax.” he said. Apprehension crossed his mind until he saw Mike smile at him and exhale, long and slow, pressing into the seat, into his arm, and whatever short freeze engulfed him melted on the spot. “That’s good.”

Watching his eyes open, the dragon realized he didn’t even think twice about seeing Mike close his eyes reflexively, and that impulse blazed harder.

“Just get comfortable for me.”

There was a shift and a wiggle and nestling into place and the dragon realized his arm was getting tired and probably sore in that awkward spot along the headrests so he pulled it back down and left it in the wolf’s lap, grabbing his hand, holding it, and just hearing a low, slow sigh of approval – eagerness communicated through the way the wolf’s claws interspersed his own and squeezed, the dreamy expression on his face; and Jack knew he needed, more than anything, to have this wolf in the palm of his hand.

“Just pinpoint the tension and let it go. Sink into the chair for a minute and realize where you’ve been holding that steady stress and feel yourself releasing it. Like letting go of a balloon and letting it float right away.”

Michael exhaled again and his eyes shone with the moonbeams cascading through the window.

“That’s real good. You’re already breathing slower.”

His face looked as if it were a surprise to even himself, followed by thinking about it, affirming the validity of the statement, and continuing on.

“Starting at your head, like all that tension is in one place, all tied in a knot, and it just slowly moves down from–” Jack’s hand started to slowly touch and flit across all of the places he described, “there, to your cheek, and down to your shoulders, and…”

It wasn’t anything novel, really, but to see those eyelids take longer to come back up; to see the canine’s eyes go wide, but stare less intently than he was before, at nothing in particular; feeling the shift in the car as his weight sank limp and slumped and let the world be nothing more than the cabin they were in. He continued.

“…down to your legs, and all that relaxation should feel so good, and you’re doing so good listening.”

One chest was racing, and the other was lagging behind. Excitement and relaxation. Fuck, he was almost cross-eyed when he opened his eyes. Seeing his mouth fall open, gently, the crack below his snout that was usually so assured and smirking, and here it was dangling, as if to invite a dragon’s claw in, imagining those pupils rolling to stare at nothing in the distance with fingers in his maw and– god, this was that same feeling that made him crave some ritual to calm himself, like why he was on the balcony and the first place.

Mike slumped forward and Jack caught his chin in his palm. No words. Only bliss, and the empty-headed anticipation of what came next; and feeling the weight of his head brought the dragon back down to earth.

“You’re doing so well.”

The wolf merely affirmed with an “mhmmmm.” Words were out of reach. The dragon began petting his head, front to back, and watching his ears pin back, pushing against that hand like he was helpless but to want that comforting claw.

“It’s really cute how your ears fold back when you’re letting someone else take the wheel for a bit.”

Looking into his eyes, the dragon knew that it was no longer clear what ordering of events had taken place; were the folding of his ears a response to listening and sinking, or did that hand gently guiding them down make it that much easier to fold like the token surrender of tossing your cards on the table, and did the causality even matter anymore?, eye contact became tenuous and the poor wolf could barely keep his eyes focused on anything at all, just blink slowly, inhale, exhale, and let the world spin motionless.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

One of them said it, the other responded. It didn’t matter who said it first; all that mattered is that only one of them had that monotonous distance in their cadence, as if on autopilot, like a spectator to their own blush, ears too languid to pop back up at attention despite how rapt their focus was. Michael exhaled and closed his eyes and felt entirely separated from time, and when he opened them to see the windshield between the two front seats, the dragon whispered in his ear.

“Turn around, Mike.”

Those eyelids fluttered as he faced the source of the words, and as recollection of their first night dawned on him, his own words – their lips met and he went limp, falling forward, with a low rumble in his chest perfectly content for it to last forever. Naturally, it didn’t, and he had to shake himself awake as they eventually got a bit too warm and stepped outside, fully under the moonlight, illuminated, and took their respective roles, crashing back down to reality, and realizing it was a few hours past midnight, and Mike took the wheel and they sat in silence and enjoyed each other’s company until they were back in the parking lot.

“Send me that photo of the pond, will you?” the wolf asked.

As their directions unravelled from each other and pointed in their own separate ways, Jack considered if the vacant parking lot, late enough that the moon was brighter than before, and that birds had started chirping and moving about before the rest of the world awoke from its slumber, was one of those times that someone would find themselves reaching for a cigarette in a movie. He put his fingers to his lips and it didn’t feel as warm or impactful as the wolf’s lips did.

---

The morning after, he checked his phone during his morning routine a few more times than usual. Even if he knew why, he didn’t think about it too much, as if there was something sinful in acknowledging his own hope to see a message. It made sense that he couldn’t ever expect one, but that didn’t stop the repeated taps of the button before locking the screen once more.

A cloud of smoke hung over the kitchen and his roommate threw over a g’morning, bell peppers and onions sizzling away.

“You were out late. Was it fun?”

“Sure was. Went up a ways to the trails and sat around a fire. You ever make to hike up there?”

“Once, I think. Beautiful spot with all the trees. Probably should go there more often, now that you mention it.”

“It was nice out. Only real pain are the mosquitos. I really feel it today.”

“Good timing to go hang around there yesterday. Looks like we got thunderstorms today and the next couple days.”

Soon enough, the kettle was going, and they were nearly shoulder to shoulder, ground coffee mixing with the seasoning; even if it didn’t mix terribly well, both were individually pleasant enough to be refreshing. The pourover wrapped up at the same time as all the food was plated, and they ended up staring at each other across the table.

“How’d the interviews end up going? I didn’t want to ask right when you got out of the last one.

The response came with a delay, after finishing a bite and wiping at his mouth with a napkin.

“More leads to follow up on. It’s like a full time job, and that’s just to get one. I want something in the bag before I graduate, just for peace of mind.”

“It’s a good idea. I should be doing that. Instead, I…”

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry about that. I’ll get out of here and I’ll wish I took two months to cool off and go have fun roaming trails instead of rushing to start the rest of every day, from now on, forever. It’ll all come out in the wash.”

“Probably. Just gotta make the last of the time I do have left to socialize and do whatever comes to mind, since we’ve gotta be responsible later. Or something.”

The weekend felt like shaking off a hangover in a way, coming down off of the rush and stimulation. He checked his phone, and then he went and strummed scales on the guitar for the first time in ages, since the last night’s claim about playing felt like a rededication of effort; or a reason to finally stretch himself. Another trip to the dining hall, and he was lounging around in front of his computer. He searched for jobs and there was nothing but apprehension about finally going through the process of applying, deciding, putting himself on a new path. Absentmindedly, he reached for his phone again.

It took a few days for time to resume its normal pace. Classes broke up the cycle of flicking between passing interests; a little music here and there, catching up on television, and a good portion of laying sprawled on the couch and throwing the window open to listen to the rain hit the roof. There was something calming about it all, and the daily distractions immersed him.

Even if the regularity that he scanned his notifications fell back to baseline, the dragon did find himself mulling over the wolf’s words, comforted by the breeze and rainfall, staring up at the ceiling. Daydreaming. Something you did whenever nothing else was happening; which, was true in this case, and as much as he wanted to start something, he just didn’t feel the desire. As if to be looking through the window at what could happen.

Perhaps he’d just gotten used to being passive, and he thought about staring at the job postings before clicking away and shook his head. It was true that the confidence to just start things at whim had an attractive quality, and it lodged the the wolf squarely in his brain ever since. There was almost a pang of jealousy – with the same sort of awareness and embarrassment simultaneously – that he had when he eagerly looked to see if he’d heard back, too.

His phone buzzed on the end table.

“Annoying weather. Want to come over and watch a movie?”

---

He got there drenched in water, slipping out of his rain jacket and hanging it by the door. Laying on the couch that had started to feel familiar, he watched Michael thumb through box after box of DVDs, lifting them, reading the titles.

“Wait, so you have these but you haven’t seen them?” Jack asked.

“I snag ‘em at the thrift store purely off of someone else saying they like it. Figure I’ll get around to seein’ them sooner or later.”

“But you haven’t seen any of them.”

“Nah, not yet. Just heard of them.”

He went back to reciting the names.

“Wait, did you say–”

The wolf turned and held up the cover.

“Yeah, that one’s pretty good.”

“You’ll have to give me an elevator pitch better than that.”

“It’s a thriller. Kinda feels like you’re getting the runaround until it all clicks into place at the end. Phenomenal acting and I think they’re unbeatable in the roles they’re in; something about the fact that it has such a clear directing vision means the atmosphere almost suffocates you. Even the way the camera breaks 180-degree rule but on purpose to disorient you–”

“‘Pretty good,’ he says, giving me a damn essay about it.”

“You ever recommend something you really like to someone and then they hit you with ‘don’t pause it, it’s fine’ when they have to get up?”

Mike winced.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve been there.”

“I just call everything ‘pretty good’ or ‘alright’ in case the other person doesn’t click with it.”

“Cute way to save your ego. Do you blame autoplay for anything you have on in the car when you’ve got passengers, too?”

“Oh, shut up. If you throw this on and don’t like it I’ll actually argue and defend it now that you know my trick.”

“Guess that’s what we’re watching, then. It better be as good as you say it is.”

The wolf moved to run through his routine of turning all the lights off, two lamps on, closing the blinds, and all three hours passed in silence while they stared. At times, they sat bolt upright, at others, they almost dared to move close enough to lean on each other, shoulder to shoulder. Credits rolled in what felt like a blink.

“Alright, alright, fine. That was phenomenal, I’m not going to pull your leg about it.”

“Isn’t it? Shit, it’s even better than I remembered it being. Probably haven’t seen it in like five years.”

“I’ll mess with you about taking things really slow, though. You didn’t even try to pull me close or pull my focus around during the film. Makes for a backdrop to fool around, and here I am caring about the plot too much.”

Jack shifted, uncomfortably warm and aware of his body like he needed to stretch and walk around, in the same place for too long. The lighting saved the blush from being too visible.

“I can’t say I didn’t think about it more than once…”

“You’re a dork for making me watch something I had to pay attention to instead of falling in your lap and closing my eyes.”

“It’s something that rewards your attention, yeah.”

The wolf just gently ran his fingers along Jack’s cheek, feeling his temperature, and smiled.

“You wanna talk about what happened in the car?”

“Oh, that? It just felt right, going with the moment. I couldn’t help myself from it.”

“I’m actually surprised you have a dominant streak, Jack. I wouldn’t have guessed in a million years.”

The conversation made him feel cornered and he was sweltering under the flannel shirt, hoping a breeze would clear away more than just the physical sensations of being flustered. The ceiling fan wasn’t moving, and he kept looking at the blades.

“Yeah…” was all he could muster.

“Tell me more about the hypnosis thing. I had a hunch what you were going for once you started.”

They settled back into the same head-on-shoulder clump from before, but with no seat buckles and doors to awkwardly press into them.

“It’s intimate and charged. Something about it seems vulnerable. Beyond just listening and the submission that goes with it, ‘switching off’ that sense of disbelief, having glazed over eyes that look back at you with blind trust…” he said, squirming. “You ever done that before?”

“Not a bit, before you.”

“Really though, the fact it happened so suddenly probably wasn’t the best. Usually there’s a lot of pre-talk you want to cover, explanations, general bits about safety, like any other sort of domination-related things you get up to, and…”

The dragon felt clammy, and he wiped his palms on his shirt, and thinking about that night made him just analyze it again and again. Mike sat up and turned, still silent, listening.

“I try to make sure to handle it right, but that came out of nowhere, and especially, when you’re the one in that position of power, the responsibility falls largely on you to check everything off and properly set it up, and,” he said. “Usually you’d want to make sure the subject is the one to bring it up and never be coercive, and”

Michael’s prodding grin fell to a serious expression as he reached forward and just put a finger to the dragon’s mouth to shush him.

“Listen, Jack. I think that stuff is important too. I’ve worn a collar and been dragged around on a leash and fooled around before, and this is a similar sort of thing. But I think you’re an overthinker, and you’re blabbering on about the wrong problem.”

The dragon’s mouth fell open.

“I don’t think you’re freezing up about the moral and ethical quandaries here. I think you’re just scared to take the first move and finding reasons to run away from it.”

The pause was long, and any eroticism had since gone cold, not a piece of fur brushing against scales as he pulled his finger back, sitting on opposite ends of the couch, on their own cushions, no body part used as a pillow.

“Did you fantasize and daydream about whispering in my ear, telling me what to do?” he asked.

The dragon leaned back into the sofa and exhaled, wanting nothing more than to bolt out of the room, red in the face for a different reason, blinking long and slow; not in anything akin to a trance, or the elegant sensation of sinking that had unfolded in the car.

“Yeah, I have. All week, actually.”

“I don’t know if I could make my intentions more clear by inviting you here, joking about laying around with you, and asking you about something that clearly turns you on. I’m not trying to get an apology from you, I’m giving you the green light for more of what happened like the car.”

“I guess that makes sense.” he said, meek and quiet. Jack stared at the floor, not that the other would even be able to easily tell.

“I was also thinking about it all this week.”

They paused again, and the acute sense of embarrassment dulled to a background throb, still persisting.

“I had to ask you for the photo we took walking to even get your number.” he said.

The realization brought the feeling right back to the forefront once more.

“Shit, did I never…” he started, putting his palm on his forehead. “I was waiting to hear from you and checking my phone all the time.”

Mike cracked a smile.

“Just send the message, man. Why daydream about me when we could just cuddle on the couch?”

Michael watched the dragon look up from the floor and stare back at him.

“I’ll just be really direct then. I thought it was fun and I want more of it. I’d have missed a movie to have my head in your lap, and it was really obvious you had an erection when we were in the car.”

“Saying it that literally makes me feel even worse.”

“No reason to dwell on it anymore, I’ve said my piece.”

They broke eye contact again, and silence filled the lapse in chatter as if to take ownership.

“At least I picked a good movie.”

“I’d have been pissed if I didn’t get to cuddle with you and we watched something worse than that.”

“I may be clueless about a lot of things, but not movies.”

“You’ve only been right once. It could just be luck.”

Wind entered his sails once more, and the dragon leaned up and threw his arm around the wolf’s shoulders. Mike just exhaled and fell into him.

“You’re telling me I’m that empty-headed and you’d still let me in your head?”

“Beats me why.” he said, falling head first into his lap again.

“I won’t complain. Maybe you just know what role you’re best in.”

Mike’s ears flipped down, either from the statement or from the hand brushing on his head as he stared at the television rotated ninety degrees on its side.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” he said, eyes closing, brushing against the scaled hand.

“I would. You’re a very good listener.”

No words came out in response, but there was more pressure brushing up into that hand, fur warm, his cheek to follow.