The Beast of Bodmin Moor

by Zakarrie C

  “Oh, okay…then do I get my pudding?”

  “Yeees. C’mon. UP.” Jake ordered. Phin had sprung to his feet before deciding to do standing up. “Um, I didn’t mean instantaneously,” the scoundrel chuckled.

  “I didn’t do choosing…your voice did.”

  “Huh?”

  “When you said ‘Up’, your tone was different…like a summons, so I did listening to it.”

  “What the—? I didn’t, well I don’t…different how?”

  “It sort of did bonging, like a gong.”

  “Not…on purpose. Does it sound ordinary now?”

  “It could never do sounding ‘ordinary’ to me…” Phin admitted, “but yes. It is more velvety now, p’raps because I can hear its textures—like notes of perfume—it’s not doing the gong thing though. Try and do it again. Maybe...you must want me to do it. A lot. Dang, I might wish I hadn’t done suggesting that…”

  “Okay…well, you need to eat, but I’d better tell you where to go, in case you start chewing the rug. Fuck, I feel ridiculous…Phin, kitchen,” Jake commanded…and yes, there it was again. A tone that did echoing round his head, tugging like a leash. Phin shot off down the hallway, Jack hot on his heels. “Interesting…” The glint of steel in those eyes glistened silver-grey-blue as the scoundrel grinned in triumph. Uh-oh.

  “I think I regret mentioning it, already,” Phin grumbled, a smidge distractedly, while watching Jake tug the fridge door open. The whiff of bacon and sausage that wafted Phin’s way made his mouth do watering…enough to p’raps cause drooling. He could smell everything in there; bacon and sausage being the most scrumptious. Far more appetising than the slightly sour taint of milk—which wasn’t off—that was its stink. There was also something sharp, citrusy…and the metallic tang of cans…and some more stuff Phin couldn’t be bothered to do identifying when he wanted a sausage.

  “What d’you fancy?” Jake asked, after watching Phin do snuffing the air for a few seconds.

  “That’s the daftest question I ever heard, but I may as well have some sausages in the meantime.”

  ∞∞∞

  “Jack...will you tell me about doing changing now?” Phin asked, after gulping down his last bite of sausage sandwich. It had proved so tasty, he’d scoffed it as fast as he could, which was a bit weird when he always did savouring his food. Rather than scarfing as if someone might do snatching it away. He also felt a mite more…settled in his tum, less skittish in the marble department.

  They were seated at the kitchen table, wrapped in their so-soft bathrobes. Phin couldn’t resist snuffling at the sunshine musk clinging to the one he wore, even though Jake was seated opposite, and the entire cottage was steeped in his scent.

  “It was…awful. I didn’t know what the hell was happening, when I first woke. I wondered what the fuck I’d taken…acid seemed about the best bet, when everything was so…vivid, intense. That makes me sound like a bloody hippy: It was like far out, man...” Jake dipped his head to staring at the table when his face flushed scarlet.

  “It didn’t do sounding daft to me...my senses seem to think much-too-much all-at-once is a splendid plan. Everything feels more excessive than usual...excessively excessive,” Phin grinned, before admitting, "I’ve never done understanding what that means, not really, nothing I do is too much to me. It feels…normal. Too ordinary to know what they’re going on about. It’s akin to being told I’m in the penthouse when I’m sure I’m on the ground floor. Bonkers…but I have to do believing them, because they’re right and I’m wrong, but I can’t work out why. Did that do making any sense?” Phin wondered, wrinkling his nose…as if his words smelled too strange to pull off such a feat.

  “Yes…it does. If it’s any comfort, I doubt I could’ve been as tolerant as you have. Not without snapping a few necks, at least. Excessive, compared to what, or whom?”

  “I didn’t want to do bearing it anymore, so that’s why I bought my campervan. I didn’t need to be tolerant though, I just forgot about concentrating and did taking lots of no notice. Anyhoo, you still haven’t told me about doing changing and I’m very starving.”

  “I know…” Jake groaned, his voice a husky rasp as he did snapping his head up to spear Phin with blazing blue; luminous, lit from within.

  “Jake…” His name, barely above a breath, rifled the air half a heartbeat before Jake did throwing himself forwards, across the table in an ear-clattering cacophony of crockery. Phin (and his chair) hurtled to the floor, landing flat on his back with Jake atop him.

  “Fuck, sorry!”

  “S’okay,” Phin gasped, too gate-crashed, Jake-crushed, to care if his spine had snapped as a consequence. “Jake…fuck me. NOW.” Phin’s body felt as if it might do bursting into flames, so intense was the heat, both within and without.

  “Hell, NO!”

  “Jake! Please!” Phin shrieked, gouging grooves in the tiles when his fingers flexed, trying to do clinging on.

  “Phin, I need to get you somewhere safe.”

  “NOOOO…need you! Aaah!”

  “Shit...you’d better be right,” Jake growled.

  “Huh…?” Phin could scarce see straight, let alone do concentrating on what he might be right about.

  “No, not you…Jack,” he stressed, springing off Phin to do scooping him up. Phin was bent over the table a bitten-off breath later, his cheek smushed to the soothing cool of pine. “Y’kay?” he asked, sweeping Phin’s robe aside.

  “Ye—” The snap of heaven-sent hips did snatching the rest away when Jack buried himself in Phin’s body. “Aaaahh…” Replacing it with a sigh of sheer relief.

  “Gnrrrh! S'tight!”

  “Hmm…” A smile was too busy smearing itself across Phin’s mush to do speaking. His brain couldn’t be bothered, and his body was too besieged by bliss to care about bugger all. Else.

  “Oh f’fucksakes…” Jake’s curse breezed along Phin’s back alongside the thunk of his forehead against it.

  56. Jake

  Jake shot forwards, propelled by a force stronger than will when he threw himself across the table. He smashed straight through the remnants of their supper; plates and cups scattering like shrapnel as he ploughed into Phin and sent him flying—chair and all—to land with a bone-jarring clatter, flat on his back on the floor.

  “Fuck, sorry. I—” Jake groaned, gazing down at Phin’s shell-shocked expression, wide-eyed and unblinking, rosebud lips parted in a perfect ‘o’.

  “S’okay. Please Jake…” Phin’s spine spasmed and his entire body jolted as if a thousand volts were tearing through it; long, lean muscles locking with a violent tremour as his body heat spiked and the need snagged their guts.

  “Fuck…NO,” Jake shrieked, scrambling onto all fours. Phin’s face was frozen in a mask of pain, eyes screwed tight shut. Teeth gritted against the agony they could feel as surely as hear the ear-splitting screech of Phin’s fingernails clawing tile.

  What the fuck should I—we—do?

  You know damn well what. Do it.

  Sex? Are you off your fucking nut? NOW? He’s going to change, I can’t start pounding away at his arse, have you lost the plot?

  They. Need. Us.

  “Shit…you’d better be right.” Jake snarled. “No, not you…Jack,” he told Phin, peering up in puzzlement through eyes glazed with pain when Jake bent to scoop him off the floor. Phin was bent over the table in the barely a blink later; feverish skin pressed to soothing pine.

  “Y’kay?” Jake asked, flipping Phin’s robe out of the way. His scent, stronger than ever—and suffused by theirs—was staggering, tempered only by the resinous warmth of wood. Jake shrugged his own robe off and clasped his cock to line himself up.

  “Ye—” His answer was cut off when Jake thrust into his body, hilt deep with one sharp snap of hips and a hellish growl. “Aaaahh…” Phin’s sigh was steeped in sheer bliss…as if he’d just had a sedative suppository. Far too typical to seem the least strange, in any circumstances.

&n
bsp; “S'tight…” Tight? Jake felt all-but flayed to bone.

  “Hmm…” A rolling purr of sound, like a lazy curl of smoke.

  “Oh f’fucksakes…” Jake groaned, flopping onto the extravagant sweep of Phin’s back. His skin was a ‘smidge’ cooler; clammy, but no longer burning up as before. “I thought you were about to—” Jake broke off, afraid to give it voice for fear of tempting fate.

  “Foxy was right though, see? Jake, will you do moving now?”

  “What?” Jake blinked, bewildered. Surely, he’d heard that wrong? Foxy was right?

  “He knew it would do working. Pleease?” Phin wiggled his arse—a prompt—Jake assumed.

  That conversation would have to wait. The triple weight of their impatience was grapple hooking his guts. An unholy trinity of need gnawed his nuts, urging him on. Fuck, he was being besieged from everywhere; beneath him, through him, from him. Submerged in it, consumed by it. Desire, as devouring as the lust licking along his veins. Raw instinct, primal in its power, too pure for the petty complexities of human minds.

  Jake pulled back, to hammer straight home. “Gnrrrh!” Home. Mine. Heart…body…soul. Mate. Mine. Home. Hips pounding to the rhythm of twin heartbeats, pulsing through their body; racing ever faster, swirling around his head.

  “Ahhh…Jake…”

  It was a riot of taste, touch, scent, sound; his eyes were closed, lost to this world. Lost in Phin. There was only him. Them. Phin and his fledgling self. Soothed now, by the lullaby slam of flesh on flesh and the gatling growls that ripped free. As if he was bobbing on a boat, rather than bent over the kitchen table being nailed by a half-feral hybrid. The impossible pressure was maddening as Jake ground himself deeper still. Phin, never still; gouging grooves in the wood as his fingers fought for purchase, straining against Jake, as if there could be no close enough. For him, either.

  “Phin I can’t…”

  “Hmm…yessss…” he sighed. A sing-song shimmer of sound, as if he was stoned.

  When Jake bent to curl a hand around Phin’s cock, the scorch of flame that flared up his arm almost finished him off. Jake had no sooner formed a fist than Phin came, thick and fast, pulsing through Jake’s fingers as their name rattled the lampshade and shackled their heart.

  “Jaaack!” A howl of sound so sublime it made Jack preen with pleasure. A husky rumble, deep in their chest skittered along Phin’s spine when Jake bent to press a kiss to it, then gripped Phin’s hips and snapped his own forwards a final time.

  “Phiiin!” Jake shuddered and stilled, trembling as his vision shattered and torrent of white heat tore through his body. A rush of excruciating ecstasy too intense—truly too much—to survive intact.

  57. Phin

  An abrupt abyss of emptiness filled Phin’s body and did clutching his heart. He snapped his head up when his happy haze of bliss was obliterated by a sharp stab of awareness. Jack. His scent was stronger, sharper, cleaving through the sunshine musk. Jake had shot backwards, as if he’d been fired from a cannon. He would have been a blur had Phin’s eyes been incapable of tracking his trajectory…but Jake almost did sailing through the air in slow motion.

  A feral growl did ripping from his throat when he crashed into the cupboards before crumpling to the floor, gulping great gasps of air. Phin was crouched beside him before he realised he’d done moving, but he must have. When Jake’s head jerked up, his eyes were an inhuman hue; a shimmering swirl of cerulean, flickering like gas flame.

  “Grrrretback!” His snarl slammed against Phin’s ears like cymbals. Phin didn’t do choosing, Jake’s words propelled him back, away from his shuddering self. His honeyed skin was doing twitching as if a current of electricity was skittering through it.

  Phin could see, hear, smell, feel far too much to do taking it in; engulfed by an avalanche of everything-at-once. Above all else, he could hear the frantic pounding of Jake’s heart, so he did concentrating on that, rather than the renting screech of Jake’s skin and the twang of tendons tugged too taut. The grate of bone grinding bone savaged Phin’s ears as Jake’s joints did popping with a meaty sounding squelch and his muscles strained, stretching. Stretching, to accommodate the changing shape of a body that began to blur when his shimmering skin did darkening from gold to ochre, from ochre to russet, grey…and black.

  Phin didn’t see, hear, think, any of that separately; they were shoots from the same stem. Flooding his senses alongside the echo of Jake's pain and the scent that did filling his entire self. The ‘sudden sharp hot stink’ of…jackal. Not fox. Although, it was, o’course, his very own Foxy who did unfurling before his very eyes. After rising from the floor to stand proud on all paws, he did shaking out his fur with a full body quiver. Phin was sure he could do seeing every individual hair of his coat sway, like a field of wheat waving in the wind

  Something deep within Phin stirred, stretched and then settled, with a huff of content.

  “Jack…” Dropping to his haunches where he’d stood, Phin did holding out his hand.

  Claws tip-tapped across the tiles as Jack came close enough to snuffle Phin’s fingers for a few seconds, before butting his head against his palm. Phin grinned and did fondling his ears as Foxy hoped he might; it made a happy rumble of sound do purring in his throat.

  “It’s lovely to see you,” Phin told him, rather than expect Jack to sense that for himself. Even the best instincts could be foxed when feelings counted for more. “I’m glad you’re here…” he added, unwilling to let Jack do wondering whether some part of Phin wished he wasn't. He never did ‘assuming’ stuff, and Phin wasn’t about to start now. Not when the consequences couldn’t matter too much.

  Jack lifted his head and did swiping a sloppy lick across Phin’s cheek with a glistening pink tongue. “You’ve just had some sausages, so you shouldn’t be too peckish…d’you want a drink?” Jack looked down at the floor, at the trail of broken crockery littered across it, then lifted his head and did raising his tufty eyebrows. Ruefully. Phin spluttered and clamped his hand across his mouth, in case Foxy was miffed about the mishap. But the eyes that gazed up at Phin were twinkly with amusement as his tongue did lolling out in a laugh.

  “What would you like to do? Please do staying, if you want to, I’ve missed you. We can go out in the van if you like, unless you want a snooze. It’s late though, so you might need a scamper about.”

  Jack tilted his head to one side as he did thinking about this. Then swiped a swift lick across Phin’s hand and turned to pitter-pat across the kitchen floor. Phin followed him down the hallway, but rather than do heading for the front door, Jack stopped at the bottom of the stairs and stared at Phin with a steady gaze.

  “’Kay…” he nodded and followed the swish of his foxy tail as he did bounding up the stairs. Once at the top, he pattered across the landing to Jake’s bedroom and leapt onto the bed. To Phin’s utter delight Jack did turning a full circle—in a foxy fashion—afore settling down at the bottom of it.

  “I just need to use the loo…oh, sorry, d’you want to go too?”

  Jack waved his head from side-to-side, then did resting it on his front paws, so Phin went in search of the bathroom. Once he’d been to the loo, he stood at the sink to do looking at his face in the mirror. It seemed much the same, except for his skin, which was a mite akin to moonlit alabaster. Rather than death pallor pale, as usual. Had his eyesight done causing it? Or, had he been bestowed with a radiant complexion since this morn? A thought that made Phin do grinning—at himself—with loon alert glee.

  On the subject of eyes, his irises were darker than ever, so dark it was tricky to distinguish them from the pupil. Unless, they’d dilated so much there was barely any brown left…and yet, they didn’t look dull or flat. More like globules of ink caught in the light, glistening with the secret rainbow of colour secreted by black.