Page 53 of Foxed Up

"I'm probably going to have to go back to working on the street," he told me with a heavy sigh. "I really don't want to. Clubs are much safer!" We were sitting on the couch at the time. Or rather, I was sitting, he was half curled up, lying in a bendy position, and had put his feet on my lap. He needed a little bit of physical reassurance sometimes. He wasn't attracted to me (I always know such things; it's difficult to hide from a shifter), but he needed comfort.

"You know, you could get a job doing something else," I suggested as I rubbed his ankles.

He stared at me like I was a moron. "What?"

I shrugged. "Maybe you could get certified, like I did. It's good money, working here, and I don't have to have sex with anyone unless I choose to."

He snorted, eyes twinkling. "So Jon's not part of the deal, huh? He's free, huh?"

"Watch it." I gave his feet a little swat, and he giggled.

"I know, I know. He's taken." He sighed in an exaggeratedly put-upon way. Lexie had really taken to Jon — had a bit of a crush on him. I was pretty sure Jon didn't know and would be unnerved by it if he did, since he thought of Lexie as a troubled kid. I would have thought something about the way Jon had chased him down and growled at him, demanding answers, would've permanently put him off the guy. But nope, it had just showed him Jon was a big, strong, loyal, and caring boyfriend. That would appeal to any gay fox, especially someone like Lexie, who had few illusions about life — and a romantic streak a mile wide hiding under his tough skin.

He giggled and pulled his feet away. "I couldn't work for the police," he said, sobering. "I'm not smart, like you." He gestured around to my walls and their bookshelves. "I never graduated."

At first I thought he meant college, and then I understood. "A high school diploma isn't a requirement," I said cautiously. "There are classes, but they're mostly for police procedure and learning to sniff out various illegal substances. There's really not a lot of book work." Even forms to be filled out were often handled by the humans who worked with a shifter.

"Oh. Still, they wouldn't want anyone likeme."

"They would be idiots if they didn't," I defended staunchly. He seemed troubled by the conversation, so I let it drop, but determined to bring this up to him again another time. And maybe get him to talk to Ferdinand on the phone. My mouse-shifter friend could talk anyone through their wariness about the program. He believed in it so much, it was hard not to get enthused as well.

I went back to rubbing his ankles. I would try again tomorrow, and again after that. If he really wasn't interested — rather than just thinking he was too uneducated to be accepted — then I'd try to help him find something else to do. But he was far too young to settle for sex work because he thought all he had to offer in life was his body, for sale.

Jon and Quinn Green had become something like friends, and I wasn't sure how to feel about that. On the one hand, I would always be grateful to the rabbit shifter for helping to save my life. I would be dead if he hadn't found Lexie, and Lexie hadn't been able to lead Jon to me. I would simply not have survived without them. On the other hand, it made me a bit unhappy that the rabbit shifter could feel so comfortable around my boyfriend, who was after all big, brash, not extremely educated about shifters, and often grumpy or rude. But no, he liked the rabbit shifter — and Green liked him back.

They texted one another, and when Jon brought groceries over he'd sometimes casually mention that he'd found some fruit or vegetable on sale and gotten extra for Green and his kids. I didn't resent any of that; I just wished I could feel a little more included. I was recovering quickly, but I couldn't get out as much as I wanted, and felt a little left out knowing the rabbit shifter accepted my boyfriend, but would probably never be in the same space as me without wrinkling his nose up and looking disgusted.

Although I was recovering well, it wasn't fast enough that Jon could hide the truth from Eli. He knew something was wrong, and when he asked in a wobbly voice if I was dead, Jon knew he'd waited too long to break down and tell him the truth: I'd been hurt by some bad men, but I was recovering.

When I went to visit them for the first time since getting out of the hospital, Eli greeted me with tears in his eyes and wanted to give me a hug. I accepted the gesture with surprise and gratitude. Jon told him not to squeeze my ribs.

I felt different since almost dying. It was an almost disembodied feeling, like everything had changed. I certainly had less trust for the world in general. It was as if a daydream had been shattered, and I saw the world as a darker place than I had previously. I could have died in a field for sticking my neck out. Sometimes I thought it had still been right to try to help. Sometimes I felt like a fucking moron.

Jon was much more philosophical about it. "You have a soft heart," he said. "Of course you try to help people. You'll just find safer ways in the future."

I didn't feel soft-hearted lately. I felt cold, empty, and hollowed out. I found things harder to face, like it was all an uphill climb. I took every chance to retreat into the safety of books, a place where nothing could really hurt me.

#

"You're sure I'm not going to hurt you?"

"I'm sure!" I waggled my butt in the air, demanding his attentions.

Everyone said how quickly I'd recovered. If there were still a few scars inside, and on my body, it was just to be expected. I was alive. And I wanted to feel alive again, thank you very much.

We were at my place. My comfortable, cozy place lined with books and plants and a warm feeling of safety. It had missed me, my place. And now I was on the bed, ass in the air,waiting, and not very patiently!

We didn't get much time away from work and Eli and Lexie where we could really go wild with sex and not have to keep our voices down. Sure, there had been a few snuggles, some kisses and blowjobs and hand jobs, but I really wanted him to fuck me. It had been too long. Maybe that made me a sex-fiend fox, but I didn't think so. I didn't care quite as much what people thought of me right now, and I didn't feel judged by Jon. After all, he liked sex just as much as I did — maybe even more sometimes. But right now he washolding back.

"All right, all right," he grumbled.

"Don't bother if it's such a chore," I snapped, growing more and more frustrated, sexually and otherwise.

"Hush." He gave me a light swat on the ass, and when I jumped a little, a harder one. "You're fine. You'll like this. Just tell me if I'm too—"

"Rough. Yes, yes, Iknow!"

He laughed softly and started working me with his fingers. "You've tightened up a lot, baby," he said in a warm-voiced grumble. "This could take a while."