For the few minutes it took to walk back to his apartment, Damien Collier kept half-expecting the wolf next to him to disappear – to turn out to have never have been there after all; just a daydream, a figment of an overactive imagination.

Seriously, what were the odds? Naomi Peltier had been his great high school sweetheart – maybe not the first girl he’d dated, but the first one he’d really clicked with. They’d given each other their virginity – anxious to do it right, he’d studied up, thanks in large part to a guide he’d found online that had been targeted at curious teens and somehow not been shut down for “providing pornography to minors;” he thought it had gone okay, a positive experience for both of them, even if it had involved more giggling than actual passion. That had come later, as they got used to each other, and they’d had it in spades. Neither of them had been plagued by the jealousy that seemed to break apart so many of their fellow dating students. They’d compared notes about their attractive peers; Damien rather suspected that Naomi had a touch of the bi, too, whether or not it was enough to actually act on like his had turned out to be.

Then, with their passion still burning ever-brighter, he’d been dragged across the country by Dad’s promotion. He hadn’t had any means of contact that wouldn’t be lost in the move; she’d given him her email – but apparently her family had recently changed providers and she’d given him the old one. All he got in response to his “here I am” mail had been a bounce. He’d got permission for a long-distance call, only for that to be a wrong number. And with Naomi’s dad a teacher who’d rather not be pestered in off-hours by random students – or the irate parents of same – their number wasn’t in the phone book.

That had been hard. He’d tried not to show it to anyone, but suddenly being without even that distant connection to her had left him reeling and off balance. School had been a struggle; teachers and parents alike had chalked it up to just getting used to the different expectations of a new school, but the truth was that for a little, he just couldn’t be bothered to care enough to put in his best work.

He’d shaken out of it before it got really bad, though, and got on with his life. Had a few mutually-enjoyable flings that came to mutually-satisfactory ends, no drama. Graduated at the head of his class – with his new school’s bright colours of red and gold, a once-again-outgoing phoenix like him might have been tailor-made for valedictorian. Gone to a good university nearby – then he’d met Brandon.

An Eastern dragon, Brandon was just as showy in his way as Damien himself, but with the cooler colours instead of his fire. Whip-thin to Damien’s heavyset, strong and limber and agile, he was another guy who was attractive and knew it – and when sparks had flown between them, well, they’d certainly made for an eye-catching couple. For a time, things had been great, with only one small, niggling wish that he could send Naomi a snapshot of him and Brandon together. With how she’d talked about how this or that guy would look with Damien back when they’d been dating, he’d rather thought she would approve.

But then things had started to turn sour.

That was Damien’s first real tangle with jealousy – and it was jealousy of the worst controlling sort. He was lucky; he got warned about the signs by one of his friends, a straight guy who had no designs on either of them but was a public “ally” in the GLBT community – and who’d got out of a similar relationship that had had a chance to get much worse. And that had been before the hooks were in so deep that Damien couldn’t see it when he was told.

Between that and him just not being much of a sub for any length of time, he got out before things got worse, but that didn’t keep them from getting… messy. So much of his life was tainted by what felt like a betrayal of trust. It wasn’t quite bad enough to lay charges, but he’d wanted out, and Mom had backed him, convincing Dad that it was for the best, that Damien shouldn’t be expected to just work through it as one of those bumps life threw in your way. Or maybe that he should be allowed this option for working through it; Damien hadn’t actually been party to that last conversation.

But with that permission secured, and the backing of resources to pull it off, he’d contacted the Dean of Humanities at his second-choice school, asking if he could belatedly accept their offer of enrolment for the spring semester; and he’d been enthusiastically welcomed. Off across the country he’d gone again, to a different part of the west coast this time, first to find a place to live and do the school’s paperwork, back to finish packing and make the last arrangements, and finally to move in and start his new life.

And here he was, a few months into the new term, walking through the park, and he’d managed to just bump into his great high school sweetheart? Damien wasn’t a math major, but he did have some understanding of “statistically unlikely.” But she’d certainly remembered him – he’d seen that in her eyes, that “oh my God, it’s him!” look, when he first saw her today – and she’d responded to the right name, and, well, that was that.

She nudged his side. “You lost, Damien?”

“Huh?” Blinking out of his reverie, Damien glanced around. He’d stopped outside his building, but hadn’t actually turned up the walk. “Only in thought,” he said with a laugh. “It’s just so… wow. What are the odds, right?” He squeezed her shoulder. “Sorry for spacing out. We’re here, though.”

“Oh, I know,” Naomi chuckled, pacing him up the walk. “I can still hardly believe it myself. Good thing you’re so distinctive, or I might have told myself I was just seeing your face on a stranger.” She looked around the lobby. “Huh. Looks like a nice place.”

“Thanks. Yeah, I lucked out on it,” he said, punching the Up button by the elevators; one of them slid open. “Really good rates for how the place looks. My folks are okay with supporting me, but they don’t want me throwing away money on luxury.” He stabbed the 6 button and leaned back, pausing on the way back as her arm slid around his waist.

There was nobody else in the elevator. Maybe that was what emboldened Naomi to slide her hand right around in front, squeezing through his slacks.

He shivered, suddenly dizzy with need. “Mmmm… what happened to the shy girl I met five years ago?” he murmured over her ears, squeezing his arm around her shoulders.

“She had a lot of great sex with a really hot guy,” she hissed against his neck, kneading his hardening cock.

“Fuuuck,” he moaned, pushing up against her fingers. He made no attempt to hide his excitement – though he certainly didn’t need to play it up either – because he knew how much she enjoyed his responses in such times, his brief moments of vulnerability; indeed, she shivered against his side, cooing with delight.

When the elevator slowed, she let go of him and he had a moment to adjust himself – enough for his hard-on to be slightly discreet, if not to escape the eye of someone intentionally looking there – before the door chimed and slid open. Not that there was anyone in the hall to object, but it did mean they weren’t giving the security cameras too obvious a show as he led her four doors down and fumbled with the lock.

He got the door open, stepped through, and before it could swing shut she had him up against the wall beside it, keys falling to the floor with a clatter. She kissed hungrily at the base of his beak and up along his jaw, down to nibble over his throat; he tilted his head right back against the wall and made no effort at all to stifle his needy moan, which she drank in as eagerly as ever, one of her hands working at his fly and the other tugging at her belt.

The angle was awkward, but he managed to bolt the door, then fumble in his pocket for a small package, by the time she had his cock hanging in the open and her pants down around her ankles. She glanced down at the little square and grinned. “No waiting? Good boy,” she purred, tearing it open and fishing out the disc of rubber.

There was no subtlety to how she covered him up this time, no lingering; she slid the rubber right down his shaft, then curled her arms around his neck, stood up on the toes of one foot, and slid up against him. He cupped one hand under her ass, partly to give her something to lean against and partly just to feel her again, and guided his cock with the other hand.

By the way she slid onto him, wet and hot, he gathered that her thoughts while they walked had been on good old times, too. A particular kind of good times, at that.

It was one of the more precarious and uncomfortable places he’d had sex, with the hard wall against his shoulders, the waistband of his briefs pressing on his balls, and his feet, far enough apart that she could actually get onto him, correspondingly too far to allow him much leverage or even balance. But it was worth it. Maybe there had been times he’d come faster, but definitely not many.

She slid off him with a pleased sigh, giving him a hand up to a proper stance and easing the rubber off of him. “God, I missed you, Damien,” she breathed, caressing his shaft, still very much attuned to just how much she could tease his oversensitive body without it being too much.

“Same here,” he managed to choke out.

She stopped stroking and just cradled his cock. That was easier. Her fingers splayed under it, as though to measure it.

Damien had seen three other guys aroused and up close, and they’d all been bigger than him; Brandon especially had sported a girthy seven-incher. But he didn’t envy them that – he liked being able to slide his slender five-and-a-half in without much prep – and none of them, not even Brandon, had ever shown any more dissatisfaction with Damien’s than Naomi’s fond touch was doing now. Which was to say, none at all.

She let him go, smiling up at him and crumpling up the condom. “I don’t think I’ve met another guy – intimately or otherwise – who’s nearly so comfortable with himself as you are. Makes it easier to just be myself in turn.”

“And that’s all you should need to be,” he replied. “You’re something else, all right – and is it ever great to have you with me again.”

They traded kisses. He took the wad of rubber and spunk from her hand as he took a step back. “So,” he breathed, grinning, “does ‘warming up properly’ include a cup of coffee or something?” The nearest trash was in the kitchen anyway.

“I thought your dad had you on tea,” she laughed. “But if you’ve got it, sure, I’ll take coffee.”

By the time he had a cup of each ready – double-double for her, one spoonful of sugar in his tea – the drinks weren’t the only thing ready. He didn’t make a point of it, though, until he’d set the cups on his nightstand and his clothes in the hamper; then he extracted another rubber from the mostly-full box in the bedside drawer and grinned at her again.

There was no rush, this time. There wasn’t even any burning need to finish at all, not yet. He stripped her down properly, got her settled, and slid under the covers with her, slipping in from behind. They rolled so he was face-up and she was atop him, propped up with pillows under his shoulders, and there they lay, covers pulled up chest-high, with a steaming cup in each one’s hand and his cock warm and snug inside her.

It was still a bit awkward, sure. But it was worth it.

Life was good.