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Lee Smith was starting to hate the clinic. It seemed like everyday the walls got smaller, the chairs started to burn against his skin, and the smell penetrated into the foggiest parts of his mind. The pressure of being alone in that mold-like environment, attending to patients that he could barely even remember the eye color of, all as those pictures of previous doctors weighed down on him; judging his every move. Like they knew what transpired that year ago. The secret that he destroyed every piece of but the one that was curled up in his bed that morning. But if he left, who would take care of his beloved? Those beautiful girls with striking red and white coats. His shrimp that kept him barely sane from the moment he clocked in to the moment he clocked out. And Adri was another force to deal with. But at this point he could just be her “dealer” in his own home, the young lady was basically down there every other weekend. Of course, the main reason he didn’t quit was due to his savior. The only one he saw a future with that didn’t end up with him hanging from a ceiling fan. Angel Martinez.
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A sigh tore from Lee’s mouth as the truck finally reached that familiar driveway. He gathered his things at the speed of a snail, recounting every little item in the purple messenger bag that his beloved knitted him. As he sucked in the stale air of the car, he let the winter air replace it as he stepped out of the car. It assaulted his senses, nose was instantly clouded and his inner body heat was trying to fight back. He trudged through the snow that clinged onto his boots and scrubs for dear life, the light that illuminated the house calling to him like God did to his son on the third day. His bitter-stricken fingers fumbled with the keys in his shallow pocket before fishing them out. As he went to unlock the door, he was amazed to see that the door was already waiting for his arrival. As he opened the door, he was struck with a warmth that could bring him down to his knees. That familiar heat that Angel loved to blast through the house (he didn’t mind even if his bills were in the hundreds) reached his core and rejuvenated him. The layout he had grown accustomed to was like a breath of fresh air compared to the layout at the clinic that only seemed to torture him. And even the smell was like an old friend, Angel mixing left overs from this morning to make a new meal. Of course, he truly wouldn’t be home without seeing them.
“Welcome home!” His savior ringed out from the kitchen of their shared haven. Lee locked the door behind him, meeting Angel halfway into the doorframe of the kitchen. “How was wo-”
Lee could only pull them into a hug, their head resting against his soft chest muscles. It felt like all the air was being purified, a back breaking constraint flying away after the long day. Of course, Angel helped him release the weight. They hummed as their messy bun came undone by Lee stroking their head, their bare arms holding the giant closer. The two slightly rocked back and forth as they held each other, a metronome of healing. But Lee couldn’t help but want more, to need more. He needed the stuffy feeling that turned his brain into pure noise to disappear. He pulled back, his dark eyes that stared into Angel’s eyes twisted with longing and sorrow. Angel matched his energy, gently caressing the gentle monster’s face.
“What’s wrong?”
“I want to wear the collar.” He said with certainty that dissolved into a desperate plea. “Please…”
“Oh…” Their voice was so reassuring, it hurt. They pulled him into another tight hug, fingers barely touching against his brick like back. “You poor thing. Take a seat on the couch, okay?”
Lee nodded, hot tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. He shedded the jacket that clung onto him like a curse, not bothering to pick it up. The couch groaned as he unloaded on it, watching Angel scramble into the kitchen as he stripped off the black pants that always felt too tight by the end of the day. He watched his beloved float around the house, hearing them finish plating the food in the kitchen before running up stairs. His heart skipped a beat as he saw Angel make a stop to the kitchen before coming into the living room, holding a plate with chili dogs and potato wedges and another with just potato wedges. And wrapped around their wrist was a familiar purple collar.
He originally got the prop for his angel, buying it in a haze when he made a stop to look at the rabbits in the local pet shop. Of course, he hid it for weeks after he bought it. The concept that Angel was already his partner made his knees crumble with guilt and lust, so the thought of putting a (even temporary) reminder on it made him… dizzy to be honest. So when first saw the light of his life holding that sinful object, he panicked so much the truth came tumbling out like a waterfall. But all they did was just laugh and remark, “It’s too big. It’d probably look better on you.” He was sure that they just meant that as a joke. But when those dangerous words left their lips, blood rushed to his dick so fast he wondered who’d he really bought it for.
“Reheated some of the leftovers, made your favorite too. The smaller person hopped onto the couch next to him, barely moving the cushions as they cuddled closer. “Do you want to do anything specific?”
Lee just let out a whine, swishing his head side to side against his lover’s nape. A giggle that could part the clouds escaped their lips as they put down the food and scooted closer to their boyfriend. Lee’s hands trembled as he pulled his star onto his lap, guilt striking his heart as he let his hand glaze over that creamy skin a little longer. He needed this feeling to disappear immediately. The feeling that god was always watching him, heart breaking as Lee’s sinful hands snatched his child away from his garden. But Angel was his, he just needed to be reminded of that. As those slender fingers latched on the collar onto his neck, a sigh left his lips, he was finally feeling like he was shaking off those eyes that burned into his back. The brunette melted further into their touch as their hand ruffled up his hair.
“Does puppy want to be fed?” Angel whispered against his forehead, replacing the words with a melting kiss. A pathetic whine, one that would normally make Lee cringe, left his lips as he nodded against their frail collarbone. Angel squirmed a bit as they reached over to pick up the china set that they had fond memories of, the two picking the set that resembled a garden on their first outing as a couple. Angel’s fingers danced around Lee’s lips, the brunette more than happy to give into the gentle command. The brunette held back a moan as the sweet, savory, spicy, meaty concoction hit his tongue. He sunk his teeth down, the angel’s lovely laugh piercing his heart as they reacted to some of the chilli pouring down his chin. The warmth replaced the chemical, almost metallic, taste at the back of his throat that plagued him every time he came home from work. As the dog chewed on the gift so graciously given to him, he started to wipe his face with his shirt before Angel stopped him. He winced in embarrassment, expecting to be punished but no such thing came. Instead, his savior just sweetly picked up a napkin on their coffee table and wiped away the mess.
“Poor thing.” Angel cooed him as they finished wiping away the last bit. They offered the starving pup another bite while petting Lee’s stomach. This part of BDSM was always a bit odd, in a good way of course. The gentle reassurance and treating him like he actually was just a german shepherd, made his stomach do flips. The pup sunk into the flesh again, this time letting his owner wipe away any debris that stuck him. He suddenly whined as he saw Angel finish off the last bit of his food, a twisted pleasure forming at the back of his mind as he saw them down the thing. “Sorry, too good to pass up, do you want my potato wedges as an apology?”
Lee shook his head, honestly more worried about Angel not even eating. A gaze filled with worry met Angel’s as he buried his face into the small dip where shoulder and neck met, hands pulling the smaller person closer. Just when he wondered if he was being too handsy, Angel just hummed like a songbird and pressed a kiss against the brown fur adorning Lee’s head. The living room TV breathed to life as Angel hands found the remote, flipping through channels while Lee pressed soothing kisses against their collarbone. An American adult cartoon filled the screen. The man wasn't exactly fond of this show, the cursing and sometimes absurdity of it messing with his psyche. This one was especially strange, some kind of alien being put into a machine to churn butter or whatever. Maybe Lee would have said something or tried to pay better attention; but he wasn’t Lee right now, was he? Dogs didn’t need to understand wacky cartoons, dogs just needed their owner and good food. And he was on cloud 9 as everything was being provided to him, licking the salt off the angel’s fingers as they graciously took turns snacking on crispy gifts. It was pure bliss. Occasionally Angel’s chest would press against chin from laughter and the brunette couldn’t help but find himself chuckling at the some of nonsense being displayed. But for the most part, it seemed like time had stopped. The clinic seemed like a countryside away, all of those nasty sins he made a whole state away.
But eventually time crept back into their cozy little home, evident of the credits starting to play and crumbs decorating the china that once held tasty promises. As his lover shifted off their lap, Lee wrapped an arm around them in hopes the heat on his lap would return. A heavenly laugh just filled the air as Angel let themselves be pulled closer, but refusing to make their home on his lap again. Instead a pat against his head a simple suggestion would have to suffice. “I’ll finish cleaning up here. Why don’t you go start the bath and I’ll join you?”
Lee thought about it for a second, almost tempted to be a disobedient little shepherd, but ultimately let out a sad whine paired with a nod. The couch had the air return to its lungs as the brunette sat up, back aching from how many hours he previously sat down. His back pain starts to dissipate as he makes his way up the stairs, carrying memories as it creaked, and down the hallway that was adorned with paintings, sketches signed Angel (and the occasional one signed Lee that Angel forced him to draw) and pictures of the few vacations that the two took. The wood door made way for him and their dainty little restroom was revealed. It didn’t have the same staying presence as his old restroom, but that’s okay, he truly only really needed one memory from his old restroom to stay. More of his shame shedded off, forgetting to throw it in the hamper. He pulled back the cloudy plastic door that trapped all of the warmth of the water and quickly pulled it back. The sheer cold of the metal handles contrasted horribly with the warmth he once held in his hands but it shortly dissolved as the water filled the tub. A few twists and turns, fishing the memory off how to set the correct temperature out of his long term memory. The sound of water colliding with the ivory container ringed around the walls, Jeremiah 6:7 suddenly flashing in his mind the water fountain promised to wash away his sins. The ceramic of the edge of the tub sent a bitter freeze against his ass as he took a seat but it quickly went away too.
The dog looked down at his nails, not dark and sharp, pale and thin and with crust underneath. The water seeped into the crevices, warm blood fighting against the mild water. It pushed out most out the grime and muck but some still lingered. It reminded him of when he was human. The shrill of a drill, the sound of screams, the bore of blood that permeated everywhere. The brunette couldn’t tell you how many scolding hot showers he took after the deed, how many times he washed out the basement while avoiding the body, how much sanitization must have seeped into his fingernails as he washed them any chance he got, and how many times he repeated ‘Thou shall not kill’ while those lips were pulled into a cruel smile. Only now, did it seem like the smell had started to waft. The man barely heard the door open, let alone the thinner presence that had materialized. His savior’s thin hands caressed the sharp angle of his jaw, forcing the mutt to meet their grey eyes that were blanketed by purple hair. The angel allowed the sinner to kiss them, quick but perfect. That nasty spiral seemed to straighten immediately, the trail covered in fairy lights and pure white feathers.
“You’re going to burn your claws off if you keep staring that hard.” Their voice so tender and laced with teasing. A smile appeared on his lips that disappeared into the ribcage of Angel. His hands wrapped around their waist. The guiding light turned off the only sound that competed with the dog’s beating heart, inviting him into the water that was the place of many memories. He happily followed, the temperature seeping into his bones as the water enveloped them both. Angel let out a satisfied sigh and a part of him wondered if the holiness also saw bathtime as a way to wash off the sins that man committed. He would have to ask once he was human again. The two wadded in comfortable silence, the water clouding with the sins of the father, quickly pruning skin rubbing together. The tub wasn’t nearly as big as before, but the mutt preferred it this way, allowing him to feel all of his owner as the small of their back fitted nicely against his tummy. If he was a human he would’ve felt guilty about letting his hands wander against their body, being a human he would have to rationalize even just washing their body, but he was just a simple pet.
Holding them close, his owner took initiative and lathered up their bodies. He was one of those dogs who liked being washed, at least with Angel, he could admire the way their bodies looked together. Soap fell in between the bumps against the angel’s pale flesh while the bubbles caught in fur on the sinner’s arm. The loofa glided against their skin, the angel giggling as the mutt whined when they separated. He let the sponge circle his round stomach, an amused sigh leaving his lips as he watched the water practically slide off the savior’s thin stomach. Their legs felt sticks against his trunks but it seemed like they had begun to melt together when you looked down into the water. Their parts weren’t cruelly fused like all the other times the saint let them connect, just gently pressed as a suggestion while being separated by a thin layer of water. So when Angel lovingly washed his parts he had no reaction to it. Maybe he was just a bit too tired too, he was an old dog after all. He got to see a full view of the holiness, admiring their body in a context that didn’t make his stomach curl with guilt. His paws pads eagerly slided up their stomach, admiring as their chest provided very little obstacle to their conquest. His beloved had a problem with not eating in but it had been tamed, paws no longer threatening to push through the thin chest. He greedily let his pads press against their nipples, earning a gasp from the thin being.
“Bad boy!” They giggled, swatting his paws away. He laughed into their chest, not caring how soap timidly stung his eyes. While his paws found his waist, he focused on the sound of a cap opening and a spurt. A glob hit his head, tickling against the skin that formed into a patch. He wasn’t the biggest fan of having the fur on his head washed but he once again didn’t mind if it was Angel. The saint’s blunt nails dug into his head, a string of pain and pleasure being strung as they scratched at the thin parts of his scalp. The shampoo filled his nostrils as the saint flushed it down his head with the water, hints of vanilla and cinnamon surrounding him as the water fell down against his rosy cheeks. They carefully examined all of the spots where the soap liked to hide before grabbing the bottle, only to be stopped by the shepherd. “Hm? Oh, you wanna be helpful puppy?”
He nodded as the slick and thick soap hit his pads, the sensation dulling the pruning. The guardian fitted their body against his again as his big paws worked through their hair. The soap slicked through his paws and dug into the little crevices. The temperature of the soap quickly rose as he worked the shampoo in their hair, the warmth of the water and their bodies matching. His hands were quickly starting to stain purple, only amplified as he worked water into their thin waves. He could hear the angel groan and whine about how long it took as they both watched water turn purple. He almost offered to help them redo it but decided against it, he’s still a dog after all. The mutt and owner rocked against each other, the now lukewarm water gently splashing in between them as Angel happily chatted away. Hands and paws gently slid against fur and skin, a quick squeeze to the thigh or ribcage before meeting and interlocking. Flowers bloomed in the beast’s chest, whining sweetly and pressing a kiss to their shoulder. Their time here was ending soon, skin starting to edge, still the mutt hugged them so tightly and so right. He wished that in this house, in the kitchen, in the bed, at this moment the garden of eden would just bloom here and keep them in a little cocoon.
But it didn't.
The savior got up and flapped out the wings that laid on their head. They practically glided out of the bathtub, body beautifully glistening and illuminated by the low light. They reached out their hand and the beast gratefully took it, his body feeling less dense and strung. He shook out his limbs, the littler one giggled which earned a pavlovian smile from the dog. With a pop and a roar, the sins went to be purified and returned to the land through the drain. His owner pushed back the door with their feet, interlocking paws and hands. The shepherd took a seat on the toilet and the star pushed a fluffy cloud onto their head, the bristles tickling his head dry. They quickly took care of the rest of his body, sliding down but slightly catching on his fur. As he stands up, Angel wraps the towel around him while he goes to do the same. The both of them giggle collectively as Angel wriggled along with the blanket, their skinny body twirling around. When their dance session is finally over, his paws fold the blanket over their little breasts. They interlock paws and hands again as the beast follows them out the door and through the hallway of memories.
The bedroom creaks open to reveal a slightly altered version of plaid and white blankets, the star never bothering to make it up while he was gone. He feels light and distant as they pull him into another safe haven, towels simply dropping without a worry. The two hit the bed with a soft thud, a tumor of guilt panging his heart as he takes a position above themBut his owner doesn’t push him, just gently pulling into a hug.
“You’re like a blanket puppy…” They stroke his fur, circling around his bald spot. A soft kiss presses against his neck then cheek, nustling against his ear as words begin to fall out, “I’m so proud of you, y’know? You work so hard for me, for us… you-” Their voice breaks a bit and he could feel his own tears slip down his face. He slides over to their side and meets the savior’s eyes that dared to burst with love. “You help me so much and I’m so glad I get to help you here. You’re the best dog ever, Okay? Don’t forget that, sweet boy.”
Their hand caresses the tear soaked cheek, the dog’s giant paw gently enveloping their hand. Their knuckles slip together as a tear falls into the soft white cloud. As the savior pulls over the wrinkled blanket the beast can feel a spell start to take place. The only light is the hallway that gently peeks out of the door, a sharp angel forming on the angel. The last thing the beast recalls is seeing a face full of peace as the spell is completed
The wooden pers were smooth against his suddenly shrunken knees, the curve making the stubby ends of his paws fail around. His paws had grown an extra digit, were the size of a puppy’s, and had black and dull shoes that shone off in the low light. He was sporting corduroy shorts that burned into his smooth thighs. Spring sun reflected reds and blues dusted his skin from the tinted window. The bodies that filled the pews were tall yet short, close but not warm, and their suits or dresses seemed to fall on their curves awkwardly. The bishop at the front looks too small for his pew and the stage, moving across the wood like an ant on a picnic table. His sisters played footsies next to him, their giggles distant and somewhat distorted, like his memories couldn’t piece together it all. His mother shushes them, voice no longer dull but shrill. Her whispers are the most unlike the memory he’s had before.
Because of course this memory had to reel its ugly head again.
The bishop’s words are made of newspaper, cutting and searching multiple passages he can barely recall to make something somewhat coherent. Even the words leaning up to communion, words he’s so much he could trace them in his sleep, stretch and break in half before the servers are filling the rows. Their garments trail after each other, in a line of black that had breaks in between that had no rhyme or reason. He doesn’t look up at anyone, not even as the people reach his pew, not as his sisters pass each other the bread and wine, not even to his mother as she takes it with hands too sharp to resemble any of his teachings. His plushy hands tremble with the cups that hold the truth, feeling too heavy and raw. Prayer is given and his lips fall behind the rhythm, mouth suddenly resembling Judean Desert. As the bishop’s hands shoot up to deliver the final blow, his hands can’t take the explosion. The gifts he was so graciously given return to the ground, hitting the concrete with a small thud that reverberates in the church.
Time freezes.
Not a breath is passed.
Not a movement is blessed.
So when he rushes to gather the blessings, he feels like a sinner.
And everyone lets him know.
As his knees hit the ground, chanting starts and everything becomes like a jungle. The tainted windows grow and the spring sun becomes a summer wave, the bright lights trying to make him into Lee the baptist. His eyes aren’t ready for the light of god though, quickly covering them as he shrills. The chanting is louder as he scrambles to the ground, eyes still shut close as he reaches for the blood and body. His hands feel damp, not with blood but compact skin. Suddenly they feel wrapped in some kind of casing, straining and taught against his palms that are still far too damp. He won’t open his eyes, even as the chanting is as loud as the sun. The lights must be making him hallucinate things, choking and gasping filling the air. The mass underneath him jolts, wriggles, tightens as the smoke is cleared from its lungs, shrinking and shrinking as he enlarges and enlarges. The chanting is impossible to ignore, invading his bones and making them play music. But he still won't open his eyes. He doesn’t need to see his old house anymore, he doesn’t need to see his old basement anymore, he doesn’t need that blue toolbox anymore, he doesn’t need that drill, that shovel, those liquids anymore. He just needs Angel. But if he opens his eyes he’ll see them again. But if he does that he’s met with beanstalks for people that wear black tar on their faces. He’ll see orange curls that will be soon stained with the red of a sinner.
So he can’t open his eyes.
But he knows there’s no way around it, eyelids damp with sweat and salt.
But he can’t open his eyes.
But he knows there’s no way around it, the chanting waking him up.
But he can’t open his eyes.
But he knows there’s no way around it, screams invading his brain.
But he can’t open his eyes.
He just can't.
He can’t be reminded, he cant see him again, cant see his mother’s face that will be rendered as close to the day he lost her.
He can't open his eyes.
He can't open his eyes.
He can't
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-
“Oh you poor thing.”
His Angel’s voice fills the morning that brings in the winter sun. but he can’t focus on the dull warmth as hot liquid soaks into the pillows and blankets, staining his smooth skin.
“What will I do about you?”