Babber Into My Heart

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Faint stars still twinkled in the pre-dawn sky, the grip of night refusing to loosen its hold over the world. Tucked into the plush depths of an overstuffed leather chair, Bastian cozied up with his e-reader, soaking in the warmth of the large fireplace that dominated the lobby. Constructed of river rock, it brought the beauty of nature to an already beautiful room, and Bastian rather enjoyed having it all to himself. Honestly, it was the grandest lodge he’d ever stayed at, not that he’d stayed at many, but this was by far the fanciest of them, which was why he felt a little out like a fish out of water. It was giving him a bit of imposter syndrome, but his best friend hadn’t gotten it when he’d told him that. Of course he hadn’t.

This was Chauncy’s kind of place and while the two of them really were from different worlds, what they’d bonded over was way more prevalent than the wealth and resources Bastian didn’t possess.

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People liked to speculate that it was bad, traumatic even, because in their minds why else would a boy from Eastman Park with an Ivy League education spend his free time with a kid from the burned out side of the railroad tracks, whose only brush with higher education were the do’s and don’ts of the streets. Truth was, their bond had come in a moment of triumph, stuck in an elevator during a blackout with a pregnant woman whose water had decided to break. They’d worked with her to bring Bastian Chauncy Medlow into the world beside Blake Mathias Medlow, each of the twins wrapped in their shirts when the firemen arrived.

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What a contrast that had been. A twenty-dollar rock band t-shirt next to hundred-dollar Armani, and yet Chauncy had taken his off with the same disregard for what might become of it as Bastian had and they’d been fast friends ever since. In the elevator they’d shared childhood stories in the hopes of entertaining the first time mom, who was nervous, worried, and desperate to breathe and laugh through the pain. By the time they’d been freed and guided out into a Washington State evening, they were tired, hungry, and more than ready for ice coffee and pizza: supreme, no black olives, extra soft mozzarella cheese melting in puddles all over that pie.

 

That had made them laugh too, especially when their coffee order had proved to be another similarity. Bastian hadn’t laughed so much since Shep, his best friend since elementary school, had gone off to pursue work in California and only made it home about twice a month. After that they’d bumped into each other everywhere, until they started making it a point to get together, which had somehow led to joining the same kink club along with the same gym. They’d started doubling up at the club while they learned what they loved and what they had little interest in, which was how they’d ended up here. There was a month long series of training sessions culminating in a pet play event and somehow, probably between shots of tequila, Bastian had let himself be talked into signing up.  

 

Bastian still didn’t know how he felt about these upcoming sessions, but he knew shy Chauncy wasn’t going to come to the event until he’d agreed to come too.

 

So now here he was, sky streaked with the brilliant colors of dawn. It was enough light to see by, at least for what he wanted to do. He closed the hard cover on his e-reader and slipped it in his backpack beside a spare t-shirt, zipped it up and headed out. The moment he reached the path he broke into a jog. Walking it yesterday had shown him where the obstacles were: benches, low hanging limbs, short retaining walls, planters and waist high shrubs. Those he could practice doing summersaults over.

 

There was freedom and exhilaration in flipping and bouncing off things, in twisting and making his body spiral. He loved gymnastics, but this was different, this was parkour, free running, also known as the art of displacement, and he was damned good at it. Breathing rhythmic, he exhaled as he leapt on the back of a bench, paused for a heartbeat, then spun, hurling himself through the air until his feet hit the grass and he was off running again. It wasn’t about speed, it wasn’t about keeping time, it was about the effortlessness of it all.

 

As he neared the end of the trail, he debated making a second run, but the sun was fully up over the horizon people were starting to move about. Already he’d had to retime a jump to avoid crashing into a fellow jogger, and the looks he was getting, well, he wasn’t in the mood to explain what it was he was doing. Hell, he wasn’t quite ready for any human interaction at all, especially not with a stranger.

 

And yet Chauncy was supposed to be the shy one. They were so screwed.

 

His stomach growled, which was the last bit of encouragement he needed to head back in. If he knew his friend, Chauncy would only just be contemplating getting out of bed. He’d have the television on, phone in hand as he scrolled the internet, checked emails and bullshitting with members of his circle on social media. Depending on the stories from the night before and the number of photos accompanying them, he’d be at it for a while, meaning Bastian would have plenty of time to stand beneath the pounding rhythm of the shower spray in their bathroom, mentally preparing himself for the first training session later that afternoon.

 

Training.

 

What the fuck had he gotten himself into?

 

All the way back to the room he tried not to imagine what the day had in store for him, but vivid images kept rolling through his mind, each more horrifying than the one before. He wished he had more experience with this, then maybe he’d have a better idea of what to expect. The most Chauncy had done was watch pet play demonstrations, he’d never actively taken part in anything like this.

 

Oh, he’d wanted to. He’d talked about it, wondered what it would feel like to be under the hands of a gentle trainer who’d stroke his furred sides, rub noses with him and know just how to help him settle into pet space. It was why they were here a month before the event was set to start, to train and learn as much as they could in the hopes that they might be adopted. Only Bastian knew in the back of his head that only one of them, Chauncy, had the chance to make that happen. Try as he might, Bastian had never seen himself as true pet material. Pets aimed to please. They were soft, adorable, happy little submissives that prided themselves on being the best they could be for their masters.

 

Bastian didn’t want to be owned, he wanted to be kept, which, in his head at least, was something entirely different. If only he could properly put it into words and explain it, then maybe he might stand a chance of conveying it to someone else. What he did know was that at heart, he was a ferret. He’d always admired the clever, cunning, nimble little animals, their behaviors reminding him a great deal of the parkour he loved. Watching them run through tubes and up and down the ramps of their cages always brought him a great deal of joy, and in his head, he could picture himself that way, which was why he’d spared no expense to find himself the most realistic ferret costume that he could manage.

 

He loved the feel of a hand stroking his head or dancing down his arm, but it was hard for him to stay still for that for long. The truth was he loved playing more and the club he and Chauncy belonged to had one of the coolest play spaces he’d ever seen. There were tubes to crawl in and out of, flip over and sprawl on top of, and soft mats where he could summersault and even manage the occasional handstand. Okay, so maybe he was a little bit of a showoff, bringing his parkour into his playtime in a way that tended to send others scurrying out of his way.

 

It had gained him a lot of looks and a great deal of attention, but those who’d ventured close had always been eager to get him to settle down and sit beside them, which had always led to too much squirming on his part. He never quite knew how to convey to them that as long as he was moving, engaging in something physical, his mind was in that beautiful space where he needed it to be. When he was expected to be still, when it felt, even in the slightest, like they were trying to change or control him, he wanted nothing more than to be as far away from them as he could get.

 

He was gonna fail as a pet, despite the month of training he was about to subject himself too, and that was enough to leave him feeling a bit melancholy and apprehensive as he entered his hotel room.

 

“Did you have a good run?” Chauncy asked as soon as he’d gotten the door closed. Sure enough, Chauncy was exactly where he figured he’d be, with the television on some early morning talk show and his phone in his hand.

 

“Remind me again why coming here was a good idea?”

 

“You mean aside from the intensive daily training sessions and the opportunity to explore something we’ve been talking about for years?”

 

“Okay, there is that, but….I don’t know, at least at the club, we know the people there.”

 

“And have either of us been lucky enough to find a good master yet?”

 

“I don’t want a master,” Bastian growled, bristling as soon as he heard the word.

 

“I know, I know, I shouldn’t have said it, I knew you were going to get testy as soon as the word slipped out of my mouth.”

 

“Sorry, I just…”

 

“I get it, okay, I do. Even if I think it’s splitting hairs at this point. All I was trying to point out was that here, we’d have the chance to meet people who were actively looking for pets, and we’d have the best opportunity to get to know them and show them what potentially amazing pets we could be.”

 

“Yeah, I know. I guess I’m still having a hard time feeling like I belong here. I’m not…”

 

Gesturing between himself and Chauncy, he tried to find words to convey what he was feeling without worrying about accidentally offending his friend. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

 

“Soft, meek, mild mannered; in a word, me?” Chauncy replied, the slightest change to his tone conveying that Bastian had failed in his desire not to hit a nerve. Best to unruffle those feathers before they grew into pouting and those sad eyed looks that always made Bastian scramble to do whatever he could think of to make it go away. Including subject himself to another of Chauncy’s poorly thought-out schemes. The last one had landed him at a combination speed dating/wine and fondue party. Whoever had thought to put those things together had either been a genius, or consumed so many bottles of whiskey that anything would have seemed like a good idea to them.

 

Bastian had found himself bored to tears listening to one guy spend the entire five minutes talking about the latest account his firm had landed, though, he had gotten a good laugh when the guy he’d crashed into thanks to an errant flip, had plunked down at the table still sporting the bruised cheek Bastian had accidently given him. There had been an almost moment there, when it seemed like they’d connected, then the man had started rambling on about a conspiracy theorist he admired, and Bastian had been relieved when the buzzer had gone off. He might not keep up with the news as much as Chauncy did, but he preferred it consist of facts, rather than fervently defended fiction.

 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Bastian said, leaning against the wall beside the television set.

 

“What I know is that you’re terrified of letting your guard down again so you’re trying really hard to convince yourself that you don’t want the same things I do,” Chauncy said, tossing the phone beside him on the bed and giving Bastian his undivided attention. “Everyone you meet isn’t going to be another Claude.”

 

The mere mention of his ex’s name sent a shudder of revulsion down Bastian’s spine, his nose wrinkled, and he shifted his weight to lean a little harder against the wall, seeking support and a hint of comfort from it. It wasn’t as soft and comforting as the press of strong arms holding him close, but it was far easier on his nerves.

 

“See, that right there proves my point entirely.”

 

Straightening up, Bastian attempted to frown at him and found he didn’t have the energy. “What?”

 

“You know what.”

 

The fierceness in his friend’s gaze was a reminder that Bastian might try and fool himself, but he wasn’t going to pull anything over on Chauncy. It was part of why they got along so well together. Even when Bastian was trying to hide his innermost feelings, Chauncy always managed to sus them out and get him to confront them.

 

“I wouldn’t call it terrified, more like pessimistically cautious,” Bastian grumbled, shuffling from one foot to the next. “I just…I put up with Claude’s shit way longer than I’ve ever tolerated anyone’s crap, and I still can’t figure out why. Maybe if I could figure that part out, I could trust that I wouldn’t fuck up so spectacularly again.”

 

“First off, let’s get one thing straight. You didn’t fuck up. You were you. He was the one who wanted to change you into a compliant little kitten who hung on his every word. I hardly recognized you when you were around him. Before he came along, I’d never known you to let someone speak for you or cajole you into doing something you didn’t want to do.”

 

Bastian cocked an eyebrow at his friend before gesturing around the room at the two queen beds and the desk in the corner. “And what do you call this?”

 

“Helping you be exactly where you’d like to be.”

 

“You sure sound certain of that.”

 

“Because I know you, Bas, and you wouldn’t have come if you really didn’t want to. You’d have told me to fuck right the hell off, and that would have been that, but you didn’t. You got in the car and even took charge of the radio, which is always a sign that you’re in a good mood. Especially when you land on the Alternative station.”

 

“What’s my choice in radio stations have to do with anything?”

 

Chauncy studied him for a moment, then shook his head. “You really don’t know, do you?”

 

“If I did, I wouldn’t have asked the question.”

 

“Fair enough. It’s just that when you’re pissed, you always go for the metal station, when you’re sad, it’s always country, and when you’re feeling mellow, it’s classic rock. Alternative is for when you’re pleased about something, even when you refuse to admit it.”

 

With a groan, Bastian slid down the wall to sit on the floor in front of it. “Okay so maybe there is some truth to what you’re saying. I wanted out of the city and there’s no denying that it’s beautiful up here. The pictures I saw online didn’t do it justice. I’m dying to take a canoe out and go paddling around the lake.”

 

“Just don’t fall in.”

 

“Wow, I would never have thought of that myself.”

 

“Ha. Ha.”

 

Heaving a sigh, Bastian ran his fingers through his sweaty hair and tugged a little. The slight scratching of his nails along his scalp and the gentle tugging helped ground him enough to find the words he’d been reluctant to say. “What if I’m wrong and I’m not meant to be a pet?”

 

“Haven’t you told me over and over how much you enjoy your ferret head space and how free it makes you feel?”

 

“Yeah, but…”

 

“No buts. You are a pet, end of story and what you need is a Daddy who’s willing to take the time to explore what you need from him, and what you can give him in return. As far as I’m concerned, you jumped into things far too quickly with Claude, and you allowed his words to speak louder than his actions. Just ‘cause someone says they’re a Daddy doesn’t mean they truly know what it means to be one, and if, by chance, they do, it still doesn’t mean they’ll be the right Daddy for you.”

 

“How come you know so much more than I do when we started down this road together?”

 

“Maybe because I am too scared and shy to take a chance on anyone until I am one million percent positive they are going to be the right one,” Chauncy admitted. “I don’t know if I’d have the courage to pick myself up and try again if things went wrong and I lost a Daddy I’d come to love.”

 

“I never loved Claude.”

 

“Good.”

 

“But I wanted to.”

 

“Of course you did.”

 

“Do you have to say it like that?”

 

“Like what?”

 

“All sarcastic and shit.”

 

“In this case, yeah, ‘cause there was no way in hell you were ever going to fall in love with that fussy, pretentious flake, and you only hurt yourself by trying. He wasn’t worth the time you wasted on him.”

 

“Amen to that.”

 

“I think you were just enthralled by the chance to play rather than sit on the sidelines and watch.”

 

Chauncy paused for a moment, like he wanted to be certain his words were getting through to Bastian, whose shoulders and neck were beginning to feel tense as another wave of anxiety rolled over him.

 

“Can I tell you something?” Chauncy asked, breaking the silence that had filled the room.

 

“Always.”

 

“Despite knowing what a shithead Claude was, I was jealous of what you had with him.”

 

Chauncy’s words caught him so off guard that Bastian snorted and sat gaping at him until he was reminded that for all his talk, Chauncy had never even made it onto the playroom floor, let alone taken part in full on sessions the way Bastian had. “It wasn’t worth being jealous of.”

 

“Then don’t you think you deserve something that is?”

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“No. I think we both do.”