34
Frankie
I stop about a hundred feet or so before we get to the building where the mosh is being held. Leaning against the wall, I turn Evan to face me, running my hands up and down his arms. “Are you nervous?” This is a big deal. This is his first step toward officially being Pup Runt. The first time—other than PupStravaganza, which is a much more low-key event—that he’ll get to play with other pups and be part of a community that I think Evan has been searching for his whole life. Maybe it wasn’t always the pup community but just people who understand him and accept him for who he is.
“Yeah, but I’m excited too. I’m ready. I want to do this with you.”
“I want to do it with you too.” I finger the lock around his neck. “I like seeing this around your neck. I like the idea of everyone knowing you’re mine.”
“I’m yours? I didn’t know that’s what this meant. Now I’m not so sure,” he teases.
“Someone’s being a very naughty pup.” Putting my arm around him, I say, “You’ll be great tonight. Come on, we need to go. Someone arranged meeting up with Mom much too early on the day after our first pup mosh.” He was nervous the first time he saw Mom after the whole fiasco, but she was good about pretending it never happened and treating Evan just like she always did. I’m still working through my thoughts on how I feel about my dad. Evan mentioned maybe going to see a therapist again and it’s something I’m considering, just to help me figure shit out.
Tonight isn’t about that, though. It’s about us.
Evan’s body feels tense against mine as we wait in line and then head inside. I’m wearing a pair of leather pants that Evan talked me into and a tight black shirt. Handlers, daddies, and masters are dressed similar to me but there are more pups here, by far. From what I’ve read not all pups have a handler and some have more than one pup—packs, even. As much as I love our play, that’s a bit much for me. I don’t want anyone except my little runt.
“Come on.” I find the restroom and slip into a stall before taking the bag off my arm. “You ready?”
“Yeah…yeah, I am,” he replies.
“Get naked.” I wink, earning myself one of Evan’s perfect smiles.
His fingers work slowly as he takes his pants off, leaving himself in nothing but that sexy-ass jock. When I grab the pants from him, Evan tugs his shirt off, his chest bare except for the black harness and my lock hanging from his collar. “Christ, you are so fucking sexy. I might be doing a little growling myself tonight if anyone gets too close to my pup.”
“Good.” He gives me a mischievous grin.
“Hood first.” I pull it from the bag. Evan’s eyes are intense on mine as I slip it over his head. Once it’s in place I pause, wait. His eyes are closed, his body relaxes…and I can see him, feel him start to slip away a little. He’s not totally Pup Runt yet, but he’s trying to get there.
“Good boy,” I tell him, and he opens his eyes, cocking his head slightly as if he’s trying to figure something out. “We’re almost there, and then we’ll go play.”
His hood is followed by his gloves. Kneeling down, I put his knee pads on him next before pulling his tail out of the bag. We went back and forth on wearing it tonight, part of Evan a little embarrassed but the other eager. In the end, he decided he wanted it because it helps him slip into puppy space even more.
“Turn around, spread your legs, and put your ass out for me,” I instruct. He does so as I lube the plug at the end of his tail. When Evan shakes his ass for me, I can’t help but lean forward and bite it, earning myself a sharp yelp, followed by a sexy little groan.
“Don’t do that. You’ll make me want you again,” I tease.
I’m so amped up that my fucking fingers tremble as I spread his cheeks and push the lubed plug into his hole. Evan whimpers, pokes his ass farther out, and spreads his legs more, hungry for this as I am. “Good boy. Such a good pup.” I rub my hand over his round ass, kiss it and then smile when he wiggles it, making his tail wag.
“Christ, you are so fucking cute, I can’t even handle it.”
Once I’m to my feet again, I pull the last preparation from the bag—his leash. We’ve been training with it more the past couple of weeks, teaching him how to walk on it better, like the well-behaved pup he is.
“Just let go, little runt.” He leans his head away, giving me better access to rub his neck, which I do. “Let go. Have fun. I love my good boy.”
“Mmm.” He gives me a soft, sexy whimper.
He doesn’t crawl until we’re out of the restroom, but I do lead him by his leash. Music vibrates through the room, mixed with the sound of talking, laughter, barks, and growls. “Down,” I tell him once we’re in the large, open area most of the pups and handlers are.
Pup Runt obeys, so I pull a Reese’s Piece out of my bag and give it to him. “Good boy. Come on. Let’s go find Z.” He’s been a lot of help to us. I’ve had quite a few conversations with him the past couple of weeks in preparation for tonight. I want to do this right for Evan, don’t want to fuck it up, and Z understands that.
There’s a sense of pride, this overpowering feeling of rightness that starts in my fingertips and races the length of my body as I walk Pup Runt through the room. It eases an ache I’d never known was there before Evan, and the fucking incredible thing is, I know being on his knees, being my pup does the same for him.
“Good boy.” I continue to praise him as we make our rounds, looking for Z. Pups are running, playing, sitting beside their masters. At the front of the room, there’s a closed-off area where pups play and wrestle with one another.
“Do you want to play?” I ask, and he barks once, which means no. He wants to though, I hear it in the tone of his bark, the eagerness there, but he’s just not ready. “We’ll get there.”
My eyes scan the room before I see Z, leaning against the wall. He’s in all leather, two pups with him, one on either side—a muscle pup and another that’s smaller, a bit more twinky like Evan is.
“Come on. This way,” I tell him tugging gently on his leash. Runt follows me over. Once we get to Z, I tell him, “Sit,” which Pup Runt does. “Good boy.” I give him another candy before giving him some scritches.
“Well, look at him. He sure is a cute pup,” Z says. “Can I pet him?” The respect in this community is fucking incredible. It’s obvious Runt is mine, and I love that no one will touch him without my permission.
“Yeah. Thanks, man.”
Z holds his hand out, just as he would with a real dog. Pup Runt doesn’t move for a moment, then cocks his head, which he does a lot when he’s slipping more into puppy space. Then…then he leans in, noses Z’s hand as though he’s sniffing him. When he does it harder, pushing at Z’s hand, giving his permission, Z finally kneels and pets him.
“Look at you. Such a good pup.” He uses both hands to rub and scratch at Evan’s neck. “Locked, huh? That’s new. Not surprising, though. Don’t want to lose this one.” He looks up and winks at me.
“Not a fucking chance of that happening.”
Z chuckles before standing again. “This is Tank,” he says nodding toward the muscle pup. “And this is Cheer. I thought Cheer and Pup Runt might get along well. He loves to play—especially fetch.”
Pup Cheer barks and wags his tail excitedly.
“My little runt loves fetch too, but I’m not sure if he’s ready yet.” But then…then Runt barks once, twice. He kneels, tail wagging, paws against my stomach, and fuck if I don’t feel the biggest damn smile stretch across my face, pride practically oozing from my pores.
He wants this; he really fucking wants it. When I look down at him, I know it’s not Evan I’m looking at, it’s Pup Runt, and damned if it doesn’t make my heart swell. He’s letting go, owning who he is and what he wants. In this moment, he never had parents who pulled him down or modeling that made him feel like nothing but a fucking face. There was no Peter who stripped him of his confidence while wearing down his soul. He’s free.
Damned if it’s not the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“You want to play?” I rub behind his ears.
“Ruff, ruff,” Pup Runt barks.
“Okay, we can play. Why don’t you get to know Pup Cheer?”
Runt gets on his hands and knees again, turning toward Cheer. It’s Cheer who comes in first, sniffing at Pup Runt. A second later, Runt is doing the same. Then Cheer is whimpering and pawing at him playfully and it’s so fucking amazing, I can’t describe the feeling taking root inside of me.
“Yeah, I thought they’d like each other. Come on. I know where we can go.”
He leads both his pups, Runt and I following him until we go to another room, this one quieter but almost equally as big. There’s padding on the floor, obviously to help keep the pups safe.
“I brought a ball, just in case,” I say as I pull it out of the bag. Kneeling, I unhook Runt’s leash, rub his belly, his chest, and say, “I’m so proud of my good boy.”
Runt leans in, noses at my neck and then licks my cheek, making me laugh.
When I stand again, I notice Tank is still on a leash. “He doesn’t want to play?” I ask.
“Nah. He’s a little older of a dog. He doesn’t always play real nice with others. He gets a little rough.”
Definitely keeping him away from Runt, then.
“Go get it,” I say when I throw the ball. Both Runt and Cheer go running after it. Pup Runt gets to it first, biting into it and then racing back to me.
“Good boy. Such a good boy.” He jumps all over me, excitedly. It radiates off him, seeps into me like my veins are electrified, little jolts of energy and joy pulsing through me.
I don’t know how long we spend in the room playing fetch. Z pulls out a second ball and they both race after them just fucking living, being free, having fun.
We take a break and I pour a water bottle into a bowl I brought for Runt. He laps it up before the two play again. It’s so fucking crazy to watch. I wonder how long Runt’s been trapped in there, how long Evan’s needed something, some way to just open up and let himself be. He’s not trapped by any rules here—his parents’, Peter’s, his own. He can just be on this pure, honest, basic level that I think so many of us lack in our lives.
I have no doubt someone would look at this and see it as strange, weird, but it’s not. It’s raw and real on a level that’s hard to understand. Who doesn’t want to shed the responsibilities of their life? Who doesn’t want to get back to just being able to play and be happy? Who doesn’t want praise and love? And who wouldn’t want to give it? That’s what this is about and the more I watch him, the more I love him.
When Runt and Cheer have worn themselves out, Runt sits at my feet, rubs his head against my thigh, and I know what that means. He’s tired and he’s ready to go home.
“We’re going to head out. Maybe we can get the pups together another time?” I ask Z.
“Yeah, I think they’d like that.”
Later, when Pup Runt is gone for the night, I’m lying naked and sweaty in bed with Evan after really fucking hot sex. His lock is still around his neck, and I feel it, cool against my skin when he puts his head on my chest.
“When we were first doing this, first started trying it, I never thought it would lead here,” he says softly.
“Yeah, me either.”
“Tonight…it was perfect, Frankie. I can’t tell you what it meant to me.”
“I feel the same, Pup. Christ, I was so damn proud watching you, but in a strange way, I was proud of myself too. Because you’re mine. Because I get to take care of you. I get not only Pup Runt, but I get Evan, my best friend.”
“Frankie,” he whispers and then climbs on top of me, straddles me, his face close to mine.
“We’re so fucking sweet.”
“We’re the best. I’ve never been happier.”
“Me either.”
It’s strange, the places life can lead you sometimes. A random night out was the key to the best friendship I’ve ever had, and then the man I love. One trip to the leather store and a hood started a journey that would fulfill us both in ways we didn’t know we needed.
I guess that’s the point in living. You never know what will happen, where you’ll go, you just take the journey—the good and the bad, in faith and hope. That’s what he represents to me—hope.
Like we said earlier, it doesn’t matter if anyone else gets us, we get us.
“I love you, Frankie.” He leans in and rubs his smooth cheek against mine.
“I love you too, Ev.”