Page 71 of Courting Danger

“Why didn’t you mention anything about being a pup when we gave you a tour of the dungeon?” Pope said.

“I thought about it, but then I wasn’t even sure if I’d have the courage to break out the gear, so I decided to wait until I’d made up my mind.”

“What decided it for you?”

“Something Kermit said when we were shooting pool together,” Ocean replied. “He said that one of the best things about the Jokers was that no one cared if he wanted to wear a soft kitty suit instead of badass leather; he was their brother.I couldn’t get that out of my head. When dungeon night rolled around, that’s all I could think about when I stared at my gear.”

“Nothing will get you in deeper dogshit with Mark than trying to kink shame someone,” Pope explained. “He takes the termsafe spaceseriously.”

“I love that. It’s how it should be.”

“You said a friend helped you figure out that you were a pup,” Pope said. “How’d all that come about?”

“He never made it a secret that he was into pet play. Like Kermit, he was a kitty, and once he told me that, I started noticing the way he interacted with the people he was with. Being touched, stroked, caressed, the way he rubbed up against them when they were together, and not just on the dance floor, either. Then he started to talk about what it was like when he was in that headspace. Where he could just be a kitty and let go of everything. He made a comment about how I was always the first to run and get something for someone or offer a hug, or a chance to cuddle when one of our friends was sad but was downright terrifying when someone was being an asshole to the people I loved. He told me that it reminded him of a pup he knew, another surfer who was afraid to get on a plane, so he never did the overseas competitions. The next time he went to play I tagged along just to check it out, and I don’t know, hanging out with the other pups, being silly, playing, man, all the bullshit flew out of my head when I was there, so I kept going back with him, even when we bounced to another spot, and eventually I got my own gear.”

“What was it like, putting it on for the first time?”

“Slipping into a second skin.”

“Is that the only gear you have?”

“Yeah, it takes up enough space as it is, with everything else I had to cart around with me to competitions,” Ocean admitted. “Now that I don’t have to worry about hauling everything fromplace to place, I was planning to pop into Mischief in Leather and see what Terry has in stock.”

“If you don’t see anything you like he’ll make you what you’re after,” Pope replied. “Especially once he knows you’re with me.”

“Will you come with me? I’d rather have you help make sure everything fits right and doesn’t rub.”

“Of course I will,” Pope declared. “I’d want you to take some time moving around in it so we can make sure that you’re comfortable when you play, and that requires touching skin and making adjustments.”

“Then I definitely want you with me.”

A loud rumble of thunder muffledOver the Hills and Far Away, but it was the crack of lightning that drowned it out completely and woke the dogs, who sprung up, whining and shaking until Ocean opened his arms and gathered them close, while Pope reached around him so he could help settle them as a deluge of rain hit the window like someone had suddenly turned on an industrial-strength sprinkler system.

“Holy shit, I thought they said two hours,” Ocean yelped, arms wrapped around their floofy boy while Pope hugged the one that looked like it was at least part lab. “It’s only been, what, thirty-five, forty minutes.”

Pope scooted so he could reach his phone and checked the time just as the weather alert went off again. “Someone dropped the ball.”

“Are Danger and Roan going to be alright to drive back in this?”

“No, I’m texting him now to keep his…never mind, he just shot me the same text,” Pope said. “They’re going to stay put until it blows over, along with about twenty-five other people who were rushing around trying to get last-minute supplies. Damnit all, I should have told them to keep their asses home!”

“Hey,” Ocean said with enough of an edge in his voice to draw Pope’s attention. “There was no way for you to know the weather service got it wrong.”

Exhaling, Pope nodded, because Ocean was right. They needed the supplies. The music was impossible to hear over the pounding of the rain, lightning cracks sounding like bombs were going off outside. Ocean had gotten the pups to lay back down, but each strike made their ears perk up and their bodies tremble. Ocean stretched out beside them, letting them curl against his body, so Pope held him from behind and brushed his hair back from his face.

“What you just did is a prime example of what makes a pup-handler relationship so special,” Pope said.

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Yeah, you did, even without knowing it. I was about to lose my shit thinking about them out there in this mess, and you reminded me of why it’s important to stop, breathe, and remember that nature is unpredictable, despite all our modern technology,” Pope replied. “You know, good pets are safe spaces too.”

“I never thought of that.”

“It’s not something you pick up on when all you’ve been involved in is casual play,” Pope explained. “It comes when partners have been together for a while and have had a chance to see how their interactions provide each other with emotional stability and support, as well as joy and pleasure. When you start to be able to read the signs when someone’s getting spun out and you’re able to calm them with a few words, or by laying your head on their chest, or distracting them from something that’s stressing them out by bringing a toy so you can play, that’s when you really get to see the way a dynamic is supposed to work.”

“Like puzzle pieces,” Ocean said, having to speak up to be heard over the continuous deluge of wind and rain.

Pope couldn’t remember the last time it had rained this hard, with no indication that it was going to slow down anytime soon.