Photo in the public domain by Jack Kurzenknabe
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Wolf Slave 31 – Alex Ankarr
There must be an extraordinary power in his voice: for it has stilled Ree completely, though he’s still pushed and bent back against the table, Ree’s body pressed up against his, hard and desirous. And Ree’s voice is a low burr. ‘That… wasn’t what I wanted. First we were friends: long since, back in the mists of time, it seems now. I never forgot: I missed you when you were gone. And when I found you and had you back, it seemed like perhaps we could regain that happiness. But you hated me on principle: oh, don’t deny it. Didn’t I say I could smell it on you?’ He reaches down, though, and takes a hold of both Penn’s hands, pulls them from his hair and shoulder to clasp them tight.
Penn gives away more than he intends, his voice more raw than it should be – he knows better than to show this much weakness – when he says, ‘I felt I had reason. You don’t know – there are things that have happened, to me. To my mother, when she was alive. You don’t know the life of a slave.’ He clamps his lips, then. He won’t say more: will not give details. Even if he wanted to, it would hurt too much. He can’t do that: certainly, not yet. He’ll choose another moment: one when it will benefit him more, is necessary to win Ree’s sympathy and support. To gain funds or favours or freedom, some other moment.
So he calculates: but still he’s hard as Ree, and still his hard self-protectiveness has been a little broken down. Ree seems to guess at some of what he’s hinting, in any case: pulls his head back and leans, takes a hold of Penn’s face and stares into it, searching. ‘I don’t know who it was, who hurt you,’ he says finally. ‘But I will deal with that for you, at some point. Someone has a beating coming.’ And Penn draws an unsteady breath: perhaps he might have Ree do that. He well might.
But right now… Ree brushes lips against his hair: it’s good. It’s very good, it’s a vast improvement. The sudden jerk and leap of his heart has nothing to say in the matter: it’s potentially useful, that’s all.
He’s snugged in closer: and that’s it, from a bruising, intimidating pursuit, suddenly he’s being snuggled up close there: tender as well as intense. ‘I kept thinking,’ Ree murmurs, ‘that if I didn’t push you too much, if I took it slow, then we could be friends again. Then it was about more than that. I’d forgotten you were beautiful: I’d only remembered you were funny, and stubborn, and had a temper like an oncoming train… none of which you were showing me, too busy being the perfect slave and hating my guts…’ His touches now are still gentle, but quicker, more urgent. He’s speaking up against Penn’s hair: rubbing his face against it.
© Copyright Alex Ankarr 2013 All rights reserved to the author. No inspirations for characters drawn from real-life individuals, no resemblance to real individuals intended.