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Even that offers no relief. Now Gale's private torment is methodically and inescapably touching every part of his life. \n---\nFaves and comments help me stay motivated and are much appreciated.", "description_bbcode_parsed": "Gale goes through the motions of his Sunday routine, clinging to habit and whatever shreds of stability he can find. Even that offers no relief. Now Gale's private torment is methodically and inescapably touching every part of his life.
---
Faves and comments help me stay motivated and are much appreciated.", "writing": "[b]Chapter 4: Communion\n[/b]LRR\n\nGale didn't sleep.\n\nBy the time he managed to pull himself together enough to drive home, the house was dark and quiet. He slipped inside without waking Blake, shutting the door softly behind him before heading straight to the bathroom. He peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, twisting the handle as far as it would go. The pipes groaned, steam curling around him as the water poured down in a scalding rush.\n\nThe searing water battered his shoulders, seeping into his aching muscles, but the deeper ache remained untouched. He shampooed and scrubbed harder than necessary, dragging fingertips through his fur, over his arms, and down his chest. He still felt dirty.\n\nWhen the water finally turned cold, Gale shut it off and stood there, dripping, staring at the drain. His chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths.\n\nHe dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist before stepping in front of the mirror. The deer staring back at him was one he barely recognized. The weight loss had hollowed him out, leaving him looking sharper, older, like something left too long in the sun. His fur was dull in places, unhealthy, and his eyes - God, his eyes. Sunken, rimmed with exhaustion. The kind no amount of sleep would fix.\n\nExhaling softly, he forced the thought away. He hated what he saw, so he did what he always did. He returned to routine. He treated his antlers. Conditioned his fur. Brushed his teeth. Took his pills. Got dressed.\n\nBy the time he made it downstairs, the sun was coming up.\n\nSo he made French toast.\n\nIt was Sunday. Gale made French toast on Sundays. So that was what he did.\n\nThe scent of frying bread and brewing coffee roused Blake, who shuffled into the kitchen still in his pajamas, yawning as he took his seat at the table.\n\n``Morning, Dad.''\n\nGale set a plate in front of him, forcing himself to project energy that he didn't have. ``Morning, kiddo.''\n\nThey ate. Gale forced himself to chew, swallowing two slices despite the hollow ache in his stomach. He drank more coffee than he probably should have, but it kept the exhaustion at bay.\n\nThen it was time to get ready for church.\n\nHe hadn't believed in God for a long time, but after the divorce, Catherine had insisted they start going again. ``It will be good to give Blake something to believe in,'' she'd said. ``Some structure.''\n\nShe wasn't wrong. It was good for Blake. He liked the kids' programs, the group outings, the stability of it all. And Gale... Gale had found something in it too. Not faith, not really. But the church was peaceful. The music was soothing. The messages were simple. There was a script to follow, a role to play. And in the end, wasn't that what he was best at?\n\nHe took a steadying breath and went to change.\n\nThey picked up Catherine on the way.\n\nShe was already waiting for them when they pulled into her driveway, dressed in a pale blue skirt and blazer, her short fur brushed to smooth perfection, treated and dyed to even out the tone. Her cane leaned against the porch railing, though she wasn't using it yet. She gave Blake a warm smile - one she never offered to Gale - as the young deer stepped out of the car to help her down the steps.\n\n``Well, don't you look handsome today,'' she cooed, fussing over his neatly pressed dress shirt and maroon tie.\n\n``Thanks, Grandma,'' Blake said, practically preening under the attention. ``Dad said I could choose my tie today.''\n\n``Did he now?'' Her gaze flicked briefly to Gale, before settling back on Blake. ``The color suits you.''\n\nGale shifted in place, gripping the steering wheel as he watched them in the rear view mirror. His head throbbed from too much coffee and not enough sleep, but he forced himself to act normal. To be normal.\n\nCatherine slid into the front passenger seat, smoothing out her skirt. Sparing him a short glance, she commented, ``Your shirt looks nice, though it could have used a few minutes under an iron. Are you sure you don't want me to help with the laundry? I could easily watch Blake at your place instead of mine.''\n\nGale exhaled. He forced a smile. It was strained, but good enough. ``I got it, thanks. You know how I like things a certain way.''\n\nCatherine hummed noncommittally, but let it go.\n\nAs they pulled out of the driveway, she turned back toward Blake. ``Are you looking forward to church today?''\n\nBlake shrugged. ``I guess. It's kind of boring sometimes, but the bishop is nice. I like that she's a deer.''\n\n``Me too. And you're right, church can be boring sometimes. But I think there might be a surprise today,'' she said, her voice light with amusement.\n\nBlake perked up. ``Really? What kind of surprise?''\n\n``The kind that you'll like, I think.''\n\nThe old church shared a parking lot with the local library, and Gale pulled into the first open space he saw. Catherine hummed under her breath, not liking the extra distance she'd have to walk with her cane, but she kept her complaints to a simmer.\n\nSunday mornings always brought a steady flow of families filtering into the grand stone building, exchanging polite greetings as they made their way up the wide steps. The bells in the steeple were ringing, which meant they still had 20 minutes before services began. \n\nCatherine stepped out first, smoothing down her blazer and adjusting the pearl earrings she only wore on Sundays. Blake followed, straightening his tie with both hands, his tail flicking behind him as he craned his neck, scanning the crowd.\n\nGale hesitated.\n\nFor a moment, the thought of driving away gripped him so tightly that his hands flexed against the steering wheel. Just leave. Just go. He could feel it like an impulse, the way a drowning man might feel the sudden, desperate urge to inhale. Of course, he didn't seriously consider it. He wouldn't. But for a brief, fleeting moment, the idea was so tempting.\n\nBlake didn't need him. Catherine didn't want him. Maybe out there, somewhere far away, he could find something that made him feel alive again.\n\n``Aw, heck. If it ain't the little QB himself.''\n\nGale's stomach dropped.\n\n``Case!'' Blake called out excitedly.\n\nGale forced himself to move, forced himself to open the car door and step out, but his limbs felt stiff, unwilling. The wolf was only a few yards away, standing on the sidewalk with a politician's smile fixed in place, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored gray slacks. He wore a light-blue dress shirt, the top button undone. The shirt probably cost more than Gale's entire outfit. \n\nJust eight hours earlier, Gale had performed this exact motion outside the wolf's house. He'd been used and left in the dark like a dirty tissue. And now... now, the bastard was standing in front of his church, as if he weren't the antithesis of everything the place represented.\n\nThe raised sidewalk let him look down at them all, like he was the guest of honor. Like this was always going to happen. Like he'd known this moment was coming.\n\nAnd, Gale realized, with a sinking feeling, that he had. Or at least he had to have already been planning it last night. Last night while Gale was blowing him under the stars, the wolf had known that he was going to be seeing him again in just a few hours.\n\nHis voice was light, friendly, so easy in a way that made Gale's stomach twist. ``Hey, Squirt,'' Case said, letting Blake close the distance before ruffling the fur between his ears. The boy practically bounced on his feet. ``Didn't know if I'd see you today.''\n\n``You came to church!?'' Blake practically vibrated with excitement, his earlier sleepiness completely forgotten. ``Grandma said there was a surprise, but I didn't know it was you!''\n\nGale's mouth was dry.\n\nCatherine, standing at his side, folded her hands in front of her and gave Gale a knowing look. ``Now, now. I did say you'd like it, didn't I?''\n\nHe wanted to scream at her. Couldn't she see what he was? How did no one see through this too-perfect, easy-going act? Case could barely go five minutes without a curse or an offhand comment about something filthy, and yet here he was, looking perfectly at home in front of this place that had always felt so wholesome.\n\nCase turned his attention toward her with that easy charm. ``Mrs. Acre,'' he said smoothly, dipping his head in polite greeting. ``You're looking beautiful today, if you don't mind my saying so.''\n\nCatherine giggled like she was a high school girl and waved a hand. The faintest hint of color touched the insides of her ears. ``Oh, hush, now. You always were a sweet talker.''\n\nHe gave her a lopsided grin, the kind that made him look boyish and charming. ``What can I say? Raised to respect my elders.''\n\nGale's stomach twisted. Unbelievable.\n\nThen Case turned to him, his grin widening ever so slightly, like he was waiting for Gale to crumble. ``Hey, Acorn.''\n\n``Don't call me that,'' Gale muttered.\n\nCase chuckled. ``Habit. Let me try again: Good morning, Gale. You doing all right? You look like you haven't been sleeping well.''\n\nGale clenched his teeth. ``I've had a lot on my mind.''\n\n``Oh, Gale. Haven't you been taking your prescription?'' Catherine interjected.\n\nHis ears flicked back, irritation sparking. ``Mom, the doctor says not supposed to use them every day. You know that.''\n\nShe shook her head, sighing. ``Of course, honey. I just worry about you sometimes.''\n\n``Don't,'' he muttered. ``I'm fine.''\n\nShe sighed, giving him a look that said they would discuss it later.\n\n``Case, will you sit with us?'' Blake asked. ``Or are you meeting someone?''\n\n``Oh, sure, buddy,'' Case said easily, his fingers grazing Blake's shoulder as he guided him toward the church entrance. ``My mom and dad are supposed to be around here somewhere, but I bet we can find a pew big enough for all of us.''\n\nGale's hackles rose. That easily, Case had inserted himself into their morning like he belonged there.\n\nThe wolf ushered Blake forward with the kind of guiding presence Gale should have had. Should have been doing.\n\nMeanwhile, Gale helped Catherine retrieve her cane and then followed, trying not to appear rushed while walking so fast he left his mother to deal with the steps herself, after having already fallen a good twenty paces behind. He couldn't stop himself from staring at the back of Case's head as they walked through the doors, then turned around to help the elderly deer the rest of the way. \n\nInside, the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of incense and polished wood. There was a large wooden cross over the pulpit and several stained-glass windows lining the walls. The pews were polished hardwood with plush velvet cushions.\n\nThey filed into the sanctuary as the organ hummed its opening notes, the warm scent of incense curling through the air. St. Alban's was already filling up, voices hushed but still layered in the usual Sunday morning pleasantries.\n\nGale followed Catherine down the aisle, keeping a careful distance from Case. He didn't want to be near him. Not here. Not after last night.\n\nCase, as always, didn't care what he wanted.\n\n``Oh, hey - there they are.'' Case's voice was easy. Effortless. He lifted a hand, waving toward a pew just ahead. ``Mom, Dad! We were just looking for you.''\n\nGale's stomach twisted.\n\nLorraine and Joseph Parker sat neatly near the middle of the church, the exact spot where people with just the right level of social clout tended to position themselves. Not too close to the front - that was for the bishop and her direct circle - but prominent enough to be seen.\n\nJoseph Parker, broad-shouldered even in his old age, still carried himself like he belonged at the head of a table. His suit was dark, sharp, fitted. A subtle gold watch gleamed on his wrist when he lifted his hand to adjust his tie. Beside him, Lorraine was perfectly put together - her silver fur meticulously groomed, pearls resting neatly against her collarbone, the scent of expensive perfume hovering faintly in the air.\n\nThey looked exactly as Gale remembered them.\n\nAnd just like that, it all made sense.\n\nCatherine must have invited them. Must have invited Case through them.\n\nThat was how the wolf had ended up here.\n\nCase cleared his throat and gestured. ``Mom, Dad, you remember Gale, don't you? My old pal.''\n\nLorraine leaned forward to make eye contact with him and offered a small, polite smile. ``Of course, Gale Acre. I haven't seen you since you were a little boy, but I still recognize you.'' She let her gaze flick briefly to Blake. ``And this must be your son.''\n\nBlake sat up straighter. ``Yes, ma'am. I'm Blake.'' He stuck out his hand for a shake, just as Gale had taught him.\n\nLorraine smiled indulgently as she took it. ``Such good manners. Just like your father.''\n\nGale barely resisted the urge to scoff.\n\n``I was so pleased that you accepted my invitation,'' Catherine said, ``I know you must have many obligations, but sometimes we need to make time for a higher power. Wouldn't you agree?'' \n\nJoseph barely acknowledged any of them with a nod and brief eye contact. \n\n``Of course,'' Lorraine said smoothly, though she made no move to elaborate. Instead, she turned her focus to Catherine. ``Thank you for reaching out to us. It's been so good catching up.''\n\nCatherine smiled, clasping her hands in front of her. ``Oh, it's been lovely. It had simply been far too long.''\n\nGale barely heard the rest of their exchange.\n\nHe was watching Case.\n\nSomething flickered across the wolf's face - just for a second - as his mother spoke. Not quite irritation, but something close.\n\nGale had known, even as kids, that Case had been raised in a house where appearances were everything. He'd always been perfect in his parents' eyes, not because of any great virtue, but because that was the role expected of him. He was their only child. Their golden child. He was meant to be handsome, charismatic, successful. The perfect son to complete the perfect picture of adults obsessed with image. \n\nAnd Case had played his part beautifully.\n\n``Would you all like to squeeze in. I think there should be just enough room,'' Lorraine offered.\n\n``That would be perfect, Mom.''\n\nLorraine was already shifting, nudging Joseph to scoot further down.\n\nCatherine, ever the good churchgoer, didn't hesitate to follow the unspoken direction. She stepped into the pew first, settling beside Lorraine with an approving nod.\n\nBlake was next, eagerly hopping up onto the seat without a second thought. He was practically buzzing, thrilled to be part of whatever this was.\n\nAnd then Case moved in.\n\nGale barely had time to react before the wolf had slid into place, an easy, casual movement that just happened to place him directly between Blake and Gale.\n\nThe realization sank in his stomach like lead.\n\nIt had all been arranged in a matter of seconds. No hesitation, no overt forcefulness - just the right nudges in the right places, and suddenly, Gale was cut off from his own family like he was just some hanger on.\n\nGale clenched his teeth.\n\nThere was no way to correct it now. If he made a fuss, it would seem petty. Unreasonable.\n\n``Perfect,'' Case murmured, stretching one arm along the back of the pew as he settled in. His clawtips just barely brushed against the back of Gale's shoulders. ``Now we're all nice and cozy.''\n\nGale didn't respond.\n\nThe organ swelled, and the first hymn began.\n\nHe should have been focusing on the music, the words, the peace of the ritual. Instead, all he could feel was the presence beside him. The heat of Case's body, the casual confidence in the way he leaned back - like this was exactly where he belonged. Even his singing voice, a pleasant baritone, seemed to blend seamlessly with that of the congregation as they began to sing. \n\nMidway through the second verse, Case leaned in just enough for only Gale to hear.\n\n``You ever wonder,'' Case murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, ``if God's watching you?''\n\nGale's breath hitched and he stopped even trying to mouth the words. He didn't look at Case, but he still heard the smirk. \n\n``You think He sees?'' Case continued, his tone thoughtful, musing, like this was an ordinary conversation between two old friends. ``Sees what we do behind closed doors? What we really are? The ways we sin?''\n\nGale swallowed.\n\nThen, just as easily, Case straightened, returning his attention to the hymn book as if nothing had happened.\n\nThe service continued as it always did, with the slow, measured procession of the choir. Dressed in traditional red and white vestments, they moved in solemnly, their voices rising in a hymn that sounded ancient even when new. The melody curled up toward the high wooden beams of the vaulted ceiling.\n\nAround him, the congregation fell into step with the rhythm of the liturgy, their voices weaving through the familiar prayers. Everything was scripted, predictable, controlled. The words of the Book of Common Prayer carried on without hesitation.\n\nThere were no improvisations, no deviations. Only the steady pulse of ritual.\n\nThe choreography of the service was second nature to everyone here. They stood, they knelt, they bowed their heads in unison. A performance practiced for decades, passed down through generations.\n\nBlake followed along with bright-eyed attentiveness, murmuring the prayers at the right moments, his small hands folded in his lap when he wasn't holding the hymnal. Catherine sat beside him, her back straight, her expression serene - content, as she always was when she could put on the appearance of a woman whose life was in order. Her knee kept her from being able to stand and kneel as easily as the others, but she still went through the motions. \n\nAnd Case...\n\nGale tried not to look at him. But he could feel him there, sitting perfectly at ease. He didn't fumble over the prayers. Didn't miss a single response. He stood and knelt at the perfect moments, always with a quiet, respectful air. Like he'd been doing this all his life.\n\nBut Gale knew better. Case wasn't here for God.\n\nThe sermon was delivered in careful, measured tones - moral guidance with just enough weight to feel like wisdom, but never enough to demand change. Bishop Hart stood at the pulpit, her voice calm yet steady, her presence a quiet force in itself.\n\nShe was dressed simply, as always, in dark robes trimmed in deep, wine-colored fabric. The kind of woman who commanded attention without ever raising her voice. Gale had never quite known what to make of her.\n\nShe was of a similar age to Catherine, and had similar sharp-edged features. She was genuine. And that unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. Her eyes found him, just briefly, as she scanned the congregation. Not in accusation. Not in scrutiny. Just... seeing him.\n\nGale dropped his gaze to his hands.\n\nThe choir began to sing again as the congregation prepared for Eucharist.\n\nBlake was already shifting in his seat, eager to take his place in the line forming down the aisle. Catherine stood with quiet dignity, smoothing out her blazer before stepping forward, using her cane as little as possible.\n\nGale didn't move.\n\nHe stayed seated, his hands curled into his lap.\n\nCommunion was supposed to mean something. Even if he didn't believe in it, even if God was nothing more than a hollow concept to him, it still had the weight of something sacred. And after last night - after everything - he couldn't.\n\nHe wasn't worthy.\n\nHe shouldn't be here.\n\nA hand settled on his shoulder. It was gentle. Supportive, even. To anyone else, it would have looked like an encouraging gesture.\n\n``Come on, Acorn,'' Case murmured, his voice low. ``Don't want folks asking questions, do you?''\n\nThe pressure on his shoulder increased just enough for him to feel the wolf's claws. Firm but never forceful. Just enough to guide him. To remind him, without a word, that resistance was pointless.\n\nGale stood.\n\nHis movements felt disconnected from his body, like he was being pulled into the aisle by an invisible leash, shuffled forward with the rest of them. Step by step, inch by inch, until he was kneeling at the altar rail.\n\nThe silver chalice gleamed under the candlelight.\n\nBishop Hart moved down the line, murmuring quiet blessings as she placed the wafer into each outstretched hand.\n\n``The body of Christ, given for you.''\n\nGale hesitated.\n\nThe bread felt dry against his tongue. It stuck to the roof of his mouth, clinging like something foreign, something wrong.\n\nThen came the wine. It was bitter and rich, and it reminded him of that night when he'd been on his knees in Blake's room. It burned on the way down.\n\nHe barely had time to swallow before Case leaned in, so close that his breath ghosted against Gale's ear.\n\n``Good boy.''\n\nThe words dripped into his ears like warm wax. As he walked back to the pew, he was forced to conceal an erection by hunching slightly and folding his hands in front of his crotch. No one seemed to notice.\n\nThe rest of the service passed quickly. He moved through the motions like everyone else, standing when they stood, kneeling when they knelt, but his mind was elsewhere. The words of Bishop Hart barely registered - something about redemption, about the burden of sin and the promise of grace - but Gale wasn't thinking about God.\n\nHe was thinking about Case.\n\nA week ago, he'd told Gale how much he enjoyed the fact that he saw through Case's act. That he could `understand' in ways others didn't. \n\nYou want to believe in good people and bad people. In mistakes that should mean something. In fairness. But life ain't like that. Some people just are, and the ones who figure out how to move through the world without gettin' bogged down in all that sentimental shit? We win.\n\nAnd twice now, he'd put Gale on his knees, humiliated and aching. That was the kind of worship Case was here for. And no one else seemed to notice. \n\nAnd yet, Gale's thoughts kept circling back to him, an anxious loop of dread and anticipation. Would Case make him do something else? Would he do it here? Would he leave him alone?\n\nThat was the real question, wasn't it? Because even as part of him recoiled - at the way Case used him - another part wanted it. It was easier, somehow, when someone else was making the decisions. When he didn't have to think, didn't have to be anything except a toy and, perhaps, a witness. \n\nThe final hymn faded, and the congregation began shifting, murmuring, the rustling of fabric and footsteps filling the sanctuary as people gathered their things and made their way toward the doors. Gale stayed seated, gripping the edge of the pew as if it could ground him. The hour had passed in a daze, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each passing moment.\n\nThen Case stood, stretching his arms with a casual ease before buttoning his cuffs and straightening his sleeves. He stepped into the aisle, but before moving forward, he turned slightly and brushed the tips of his claws against Gale's wrist.\n\nA barely-there touch. One that might look like an accident. And yet, Gale knew, it was an unspoken order.\n\nHe stiffened. Blake was watching them with a curious expression, but his attention was soon pulled away by the post-service shuffle, distracted by Catherine checking his tie, making sure he hadn't wrinkled it. Still, his ears flicked, his gaze darting toward Gale for a fraction of a second before shifting away.\n\nGale swallowed, his throat tight, as Case stepped away, slipping effortlessly into the crowd\n\nThe seconds stretched unbearably long as he sat frozen in place. He could still feel the warmth of Case's fingers where they had barely brushed his wrist, could still hear the subtle amusement in the wolf's voice from the night before. \n\nOh. Did you think we were gonna cuddle?\n\nHis stomach churned.\n\nIt didn't matter what Case wanted. Didn't matter if it was another humiliation, another command. He wanted to obey. It was like he was under some spell.\n\nGale shifted in his seat, breathing slowly, deliberately. He could feel the nervous energy starting to crawl under his skin, making his limbs twitchy, restless. He was supposed to get up now. That's what Case wanted.\n\nHe could still leave. He could just sit here, pretend not to have noticed, pretend he hadn't understood. But even as the thought formed, he knew it was impossible. Case would never allow it. If he ignored him now, the wolf would only punish him. Or, worse, follow through on his threat to walk away. \n\nThe deer forced himself to stand. His legs felt stiff, but he made them move, keeping his voice steady as he turned to Catherine. ``I'll be back in a minute.''\n\nShe barely acknowledged him, too busy exchanging pleasantries with the Parkers and a family she knew, already slipping into social mode.\n\nGale's hands were shaking by the time he entered the side hallway, away from the main flow of the congregation. The church was quieter here, lined with classrooms for Sunday school, a small office for the choir director, and the restrooms - largely unused during normal services - tucked at the very end. Case was ahead of him, walking at an easy pace, hands in his pockets, not bothering to check if Gale was following.\n\nThe wolf disappeared inside the men's room, the heavy door swinging shut behind him.\n\nGale hesitated just outside it.\n\nHe was breathing too quickly. His throat was tight. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. His body was already reacting in the increasingly familiar mix of arousal and revulsion. His mind was running through everything that might happen. Every scenario, every new way Case could humiliate him. What if his shirt was stained? What if the wolf wanted more than a blowjob this time? What if someone came in? .\n\nHe was sick. Sick for dreading this. Sick for craving it.\n\nShame burned inside him, but it wasn't enough to change his course. He reached for the door, pushing it open with a trembling hand.\n\nCase was at the single urinal, pulling his sheath back with one hand while holding his cock with the other. A thick stream of piss was splashing into the porcelain. He didn't react to Gale's presence.\n\nThe deer stood there, frozen. Waiting. Did he want him to... drink it or something? God, could he do that? The thought repulsed him more than anything else he'd imagined. But he knew he'd do it if Case demanded it.\n\nThe fluorescent lights buzzed faintly. The wolf finished and took his time shaking himself off, knowing Gale was watching. He was starting to get hard. Gale swallowed. This was it, then.\n\nThe automatic flush triggered and Gale jumped from the sudden volume of noise echoing through the small space. Case walked towards the sink, not bothering to look at him. He rolled up his sleeves, washed his paws\n\nFinally, the wolf turned, locking eyes with him in the mirror.\n\n``Jesus, Gale,'' he muttered, tossing the paper towel into the bin before smoothing his tie. ``What do you think is gonna happen? Get a hold of yourself. Pervert.''\n\nGale flinched like he'd been struck even as Case shoved passed him and left. Just like that. Relief and disappointment washed over him. His cock throbbed. \n\nHe stayed standing there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror, feeling the shame wash over him. It was different this time.\n\nLast night, he'd been humiliated, but at least he'd been something. At least he'd had a purpose. At least he'd mattered in some sick, twisted way.\n\nNow, he was nothing at all.\n\nThat didn't stop him from rushing into the stall. His belt came undone. He let his slacks fall just enough. Thirty seconds and he was done. His cum splashed into the toilet in a few thin ropes. The remainder dribbled out, and a few drops got onto his underwear. The release was still welcome, even as the shame sunk in even deeper. \n\nHe cleaned up quickly, washed his hands, and then made his way back out to the congregation. \n\n***\n\nSunday lunch at his mother's was an unspoken obligation. It always had been. Church service bled into the tradition so deeply that refusing wasn't even an option - not without a conversation Gale didn't have the energy for.\n\nAnd now Case was coming, too. He doubted this would be the last time. \n\nCatherine had been the one to invite him, of course. After service, as they stood in the church courtyard exchanging pleasantries, she'd turned to Case with the warmest smile she'd given anyone all morning.\n\n``Case, dear, why don't you join us for lunch? I imagine it's been a long time since you've had a proper home-cooked meal.''\n\nCase had chuckled, his expression perfectly modest. ``Well now, Mrs. Acre, I couldn't impose - ''\n\n``Nonsense,'' she interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. ``You're practically family, and besides, we have plenty. It would be my pleasure.''\n\nGale had wanted to put an end to it. He'd wanted to step in, cut it off, insist they had plans. But Blake had already turned to him, eyes wide, hopeful.\n\n``Dad, can he?''\n\nAnd that was that. The Parkers had another obligation, or at least a polite excuse, at least. But that only made things more awkward.\n\nBy the time they reached Catherine's house, the afternoon sun had pushed the morning chill away, making the kitchen warm as she bustled about preparing a simple meal. Most of the ingredients had already been prepped. Including an entire roast chicken - just for Case. \n\n``I know how you wolves like protein,'' she'd said as she placed it on the table in front of him. The rest of the meal was as it always was - light vegetable soup, a walnut and pear salad, roasted root vegetables, and warm rolls with fresh butter.\n\nThe scent of roasted meat was sharp, greasy. Gale swallowed against the bile at the back of his throat. He could hear the scrape of Case's fork against the plate, the soft chew. He forced himself to focus on his soup.\n\n``Delicious, Mrs. Acre. You sure you're not secretly a wolf?''\n\nShe laughed. ``Oh, please, it's just Catherine. And I just remember how you used to eat when you were younger,'' Catherine added, pouring Case a glass of white wine. ``I wanted to make sure you had something satisfying. I can't imagine an herbivore's diet is very appealing to a wolf of your size.''\n\nCase, ever the perfect guest, gave her a gracious nod. ``That's real nice, Catherine. I'll be sure to return the favor. I've got this gorgeous little table that might look good in your living room if you're interested.''\n\nGale barely touched his food.\n\nThe meal was pleasant on the surface - Catherine was in her element, doting on Blake and making polite conversation with Case, who was currently going on about how smart his kids were. His parents joined in, discussing some community board decisions they were involved in, the kind of social climbing that came naturally to them.\n\nThen, as the conversation lulled, Case leaned back in his chair, casual, easy, and dropped it like it was the most natural thing in the world.\n\n``You know,'' Case said, leaning back in his chair, ``me and the Bishop got to talking while y'all were making your rounds after service. They've been wantin' to get a youth athletics thing off the ground - somethin' to keep the kids busy, teach `em a little discipline.'' He picked up his glass, rolling it between his fingers before taking a slow sip. ``Figured they'd have a hard time findin' someone with some clout who gives a damn, but turns out folks still remember me from my high school days. Guess my name carries a little weight `round here.'' He smiled, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. ``What do you think?''\n\nCatherine lit up immediately. ``Oh, what a wonderful idea! That church has been needing something like that for years.''\n\nGale stiffened. His grip on his fork tightened.\n\nCase smiled like he'd barely noticed. ``Right? Figured I could lend a hand, maybe get the kids some real structured training. Teach `em some discipline, some teamwork.'' His gaze flicked toward Blake. ``What do you think, buddy? Sound like something you'd be interested in?''\n\nBlake straightened in his chair. ``Yeah! Dad, can I do it!?''\n\nGale's mouth was dry.\n\nHe could feel Case watching him, just like he could feel Catherine's expectations hanging in the air.\n\nThere was no way to say no. Not without looking like an asshole. Not without looking like he was just holding Blake back because he had hard feelings about his past with Case.\n\nGale swallowed. ``Sure, kiddo,'' he said, forcing the words out. ``If that's what you want.''\n\nBlake grinned, turning back to Case. ``Awesome! Are you gonna be a coach?''\n\nCase chuckled, leaning forward to ruffle Blake's hair. ``Something like that. Probably not much of an organized league - at least not yet - but if all goes well, by the time fall comes around, we might have a few other church groups to play with.''\n\nAnd then he met Gale's eyes.\n\nThere was nothing overt in his expression, nothing obvious to anyone else at the table. Just a flicker of something sharp beneath the easy charm. A glint of quiet amusement. Like he was enjoying watching Gale piece it together.\n\nBy the time they left, Gale felt hollow.\n\nCase wasn't lurking anymore - he was settling in. Claiming space. Weaving himself into the foundation of Gale's world so methodically it felt inevitable.\n\nGale could feel the walls closing in. There was no getting rid of him now.\n\n", "writing_bbcode_parsed": "Chapter 4: Communion
LRR

Gale didn't sleep.

By the time he managed to pull himself together enough to drive home, the house was dark and quiet. He slipped inside without waking Blake, shutting the door softly behind him before heading straight to the bathroom. He peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower, twisting the handle as far as it would go. The pipes groaned, steam curling around him as the water poured down in a scalding rush.

The searing water battered his shoulders, seeping into his aching muscles, but the deeper ache remained untouched. He shampooed and scrubbed harder than necessary, dragging fingertips through his fur, over his arms, and down his chest. He still felt dirty.

When the water finally turned cold, Gale shut it off and stood there, dripping, staring at the drain. His chest rose and fell in slow, deliberate breaths.

He dried off, wrapping the towel around his waist before stepping in front of the mirror. The deer staring back at him was one he barely recognized. The weight loss had hollowed him out, leaving him looking sharper, older, like something left too long in the sun. His fur was dull in places, unhealthy, and his eyes - God, his eyes. Sunken, rimmed with exhaustion. The kind no amount of sleep would fix.

Exhaling softly, he forced the thought away. He hated what he saw, so he did what he always did. He returned to routine. He treated his antlers. Conditioned his fur. Brushed his teeth. Took his pills. Got dressed.

By the time he made it downstairs, the sun was coming up.

So he made French toast.

It was Sunday. Gale made French toast on Sundays. So that was what he did.

The scent of frying bread and brewing coffee roused Blake, who shuffled into the kitchen still in his pajamas, yawning as he took his seat at the table.

``Morning, Dad.''

Gale set a plate in front of him, forcing himself to project energy that he didn't have. ``Morning, kiddo.''

They ate. Gale forced himself to chew, swallowing two slices despite the hollow ache in his stomach. He drank more coffee than he probably should have, but it kept the exhaustion at bay.

Then it was time to get ready for church.

He hadn't believed in God for a long time, but after the divorce, Catherine had insisted they start going again. ``It will be good to give Blake something to believe in,'' she'd said. ``Some structure.''

She wasn't wrong. It was good for Blake. He liked the kids' programs, the group outings, the stability of it all. And Gale... Gale had found something in it too. Not faith, not really. But the church was peaceful. The music was soothing. The messages were simple. There was a script to follow, a role to play. And in the end, wasn't that what he was best at?

He took a steadying breath and went to change.

They picked up Catherine on the way.

She was already waiting for them when they pulled into her driveway, dressed in a pale blue skirt and blazer, her short fur brushed to smooth perfection, treated and dyed to even out the tone. Her cane leaned against the porch railing, though she wasn't using it yet. She gave Blake a warm smile - one she never offered to Gale - as the young deer stepped out of the car to help her down the steps.

``Well, don't you look handsome today,'' she cooed, fussing over his neatly pressed dress shirt and maroon tie.

``Thanks, Grandma,'' Blake said, practically preening under the attention. ``Dad said I could choose my tie today.''

``Did he now?'' Her gaze flicked briefly to Gale, before settling back on Blake. ``The color suits you.''

Gale shifted in place, gripping the steering wheel as he watched them in the rear view mirror. His head throbbed from too much coffee and not enough sleep, but he forced himself to act normal. To be normal.

Catherine slid into the front passenger seat, smoothing out her skirt. Sparing him a short glance, she commented, ``Your shirt looks nice, though it could have used a few minutes under an iron. Are you sure you don't want me to help with the laundry? I could easily watch Blake at your place instead of mine.''

Gale exhaled. He forced a smile. It was strained, but good enough. ``I got it, thanks. You know how I like things a certain way.''

Catherine hummed noncommittally, but let it go.

As they pulled out of the driveway, she turned back toward Blake. ``Are you looking forward to church today?''

Blake shrugged. ``I guess. It's kind of boring sometimes, but the bishop is nice. I like that she's a deer.''

``Me too. And you're right, church can be boring sometimes. But I think there might be a surprise today,'' she said, her voice light with amusement.

Blake perked up. ``Really? What kind of surprise?''

``The kind that you'll like, I think.''

The old church shared a parking lot with the local library, and Gale pulled into the first open space he saw. Catherine hummed under her breath, not liking the extra distance she'd have to walk with her cane, but she kept her complaints to a simmer.

Sunday mornings always brought a steady flow of families filtering into the grand stone building, exchanging polite greetings as they made their way up the wide steps. The bells in the steeple were ringing, which meant they still had 20 minutes before services began.

Catherine stepped out first, smoothing down her blazer and adjusting the pearl earrings she only wore on Sundays. Blake followed, straightening his tie with both hands, his tail flicking behind him as he craned his neck, scanning the crowd.

Gale hesitated.

For a moment, the thought of driving away gripped him so tightly that his hands flexed against the steering wheel. Just leave. Just go. He could feel it like an impulse, the way a drowning man might feel the sudden, desperate urge to inhale. Of course, he didn't seriously consider it. He wouldn't. But for a brief, fleeting moment, the idea was so tempting.

Blake didn't need him. Catherine didn't want him. Maybe out there, somewhere far away, he could find something that made him feel alive again.

``Aw, heck. If it ain't the little QB himself.''

Gale's stomach dropped.

``Case!'' Blake called out excitedly.

Gale forced himself to move, forced himself to open the car door and step out, but his limbs felt stiff, unwilling. The wolf was only a few yards away, standing on the sidewalk with a politician's smile fixed in place, hands tucked casually into the pockets of his tailored gray slacks. He wore a light-blue dress shirt, the top button undone. The shirt probably cost more than Gale's entire outfit.

Just eight hours earlier, Gale had performed this exact motion outside the wolf's house. He'd been used and left in the dark like a dirty tissue. And now... now, the bastard was standing in front of his church, as if he weren't the antithesis of everything the place represented.

The raised sidewalk let him look down at them all, like he was the guest of honor. Like this was always going to happen. Like he'd known this moment was coming.

And, Gale realized, with a sinking feeling, that he had. Or at least he had to have already been planning it last night. Last night while Gale was blowing him under the stars, the wolf had known that he was going to be seeing him again in just a few hours.

His voice was light, friendly, so easy in a way that made Gale's stomach twist. ``Hey, Squirt,'' Case said, letting Blake close the distance before ruffling the fur between his ears. The boy practically bounced on his feet. ``Didn't know if I'd see you today.''

``You came to church!?'' Blake practically vibrated with excitement, his earlier sleepiness completely forgotten. ``Grandma said there was a surprise, but I didn't know it was you!''

Gale's mouth was dry.

Catherine, standing at his side, folded her hands in front of her and gave Gale a knowing look. ``Now, now. I did say you'd like it, didn't I?''

He wanted to scream at her. Couldn't she see what he was? How did no one see through this too-perfect, easy-going act? Case could barely go five minutes without a curse or an offhand comment about something filthy, and yet here he was, looking perfectly at home in front of this place that had always felt so wholesome.

Case turned his attention toward her with that easy charm. ``Mrs. Acre,'' he said smoothly, dipping his head in polite greeting. ``You're looking beautiful today, if you don't mind my saying so.''

Catherine giggled like she was a high school girl and waved a hand. The faintest hint of color touched the insides of her ears. ``Oh, hush, now. You always were a sweet talker.''

He gave her a lopsided grin, the kind that made him look boyish and charming. ``What can I say? Raised to respect my elders.''

Gale's stomach twisted. Unbelievable.

Then Case turned to him, his grin widening ever so slightly, like he was waiting for Gale to crumble. ``Hey, Acorn.''

``Don't call me that,'' Gale muttered.

Case chuckled. ``Habit. Let me try again: Good morning, Gale. You doing all right? You look like you haven't been sleeping well.''

Gale clenched his teeth. ``I've had a lot on my mind.''

``Oh, Gale. Haven't you been taking your prescription?'' Catherine interjected.

His ears flicked back, irritation sparking. ``Mom, the doctor says not supposed to use them every day. You know that.''

She shook her head, sighing. ``Of course, honey. I just worry about you sometimes.''

``Don't,'' he muttered. ``I'm fine.''

She sighed, giving him a look that said they would discuss it later.

``Case, will you sit with us?'' Blake asked. ``Or are you meeting someone?''

``Oh, sure, buddy,'' Case said easily, his fingers grazing Blake's shoulder as he guided him toward the church entrance. ``My mom and dad are supposed to be around here somewhere, but I bet we can find a pew big enough for all of us.''

Gale's hackles rose. That easily, Case had inserted himself into their morning like he belonged there.

The wolf ushered Blake forward with the kind of guiding presence Gale should have had. Should have been doing.

Meanwhile, Gale helped Catherine retrieve her cane and then followed, trying not to appear rushed while walking so fast he left his mother to deal with the steps herself, after having already fallen a good twenty paces behind. He couldn't stop himself from staring at the back of Case's head as they walked through the doors, then turned around to help the elderly deer the rest of the way.

Inside, the air was cool, carrying the faint scent of incense and polished wood. There was a large wooden cross over the pulpit and several stained-glass windows lining the walls. The pews were polished hardwood with plush velvet cushions.

They filed into the sanctuary as the organ hummed its opening notes, the warm scent of incense curling through the air. St. Alban's was already filling up, voices hushed but still layered in the usual Sunday morning pleasantries.

Gale followed Catherine down the aisle, keeping a careful distance from Case. He didn't want to be near him. Not here. Not after last night.

Case, as always, didn't care what he wanted.

``Oh, hey - there they are.'' Case's voice was easy. Effortless. He lifted a hand, waving toward a pew just ahead. ``Mom, Dad! We were just looking for you.''

Gale's stomach twisted.

Lorraine and Joseph Parker sat neatly near the middle of the church, the exact spot where people with just the right level of social clout tended to position themselves. Not too close to the front - that was for the bishop and her direct circle - but prominent enough to be seen.

Joseph Parker, broad-shouldered even in his old age, still carried himself like he belonged at the head of a table. His suit was dark, sharp, fitted. A subtle gold watch gleamed on his wrist when he lifted his hand to adjust his tie. Beside him, Lorraine was perfectly put together - her silver fur meticulously groomed, pearls resting neatly against her collarbone, the scent of expensive perfume hovering faintly in the air.

They looked exactly as Gale remembered them.

And just like that, it all made sense.

Catherine must have invited them. Must have invited Case through them.

That was how the wolf had ended up here.

Case cleared his throat and gestured. ``Mom, Dad, you remember Gale, don't you? My old pal.''

Lorraine leaned forward to make eye contact with him and offered a small, polite smile. ``Of course, Gale Acre. I haven't seen you since you were a little boy, but I still recognize you.'' She let her gaze flick briefly to Blake. ``And this must be your son.''

Blake sat up straighter. ``Yes, ma'am. I'm Blake.'' He stuck out his hand for a shake, just as Gale had taught him.

Lorraine smiled indulgently as she took it. ``Such good manners. Just like your father.''

Gale barely resisted the urge to scoff.

``I was so pleased that you accepted my invitation,'' Catherine said, ``I know you must have many obligations, but sometimes we need to make time for a higher power. Wouldn't you agree?''

Joseph barely acknowledged any of them with a nod and brief eye contact.

``Of course,'' Lorraine said smoothly, though she made no move to elaborate. Instead, she turned her focus to Catherine. ``Thank you for reaching out to us. It's been so good catching up.''

Catherine smiled, clasping her hands in front of her. ``Oh, it's been lovely. It had simply been far too long.''

Gale barely heard the rest of their exchange.

He was watching Case.

Something flickered across the wolf's face - just for a second - as his mother spoke. Not quite irritation, but something close.

Gale had known, even as kids, that Case had been raised in a house where appearances were everything. He'd always been perfect in his parents' eyes, not because of any great virtue, but because that was the role expected of him. He was their only child. Their golden child. He was meant to be handsome, charismatic, successful. The perfect son to complete the perfect picture of adults obsessed with image.

And Case had played his part beautifully.

``Would you all like to squeeze in. I think there should be just enough room,'' Lorraine offered.

``That would be perfect, Mom.''

Lorraine was already shifting, nudging Joseph to scoot further down.

Catherine, ever the good churchgoer, didn't hesitate to follow the unspoken direction. She stepped into the pew first, settling beside Lorraine with an approving nod.

Blake was next, eagerly hopping up onto the seat without a second thought. He was practically buzzing, thrilled to be part of whatever this was.

And then Case moved in.

Gale barely had time to react before the wolf had slid into place, an easy, casual movement that just happened to place him directly between Blake and Gale.

The realization sank in his stomach like lead.

It had all been arranged in a matter of seconds. No hesitation, no overt forcefulness - just the right nudges in the right places, and suddenly, Gale was cut off from his own family like he was just some hanger on.

Gale clenched his teeth.

There was no way to correct it now. If he made a fuss, it would seem petty. Unreasonable.

``Perfect,'' Case murmured, stretching one arm along the back of the pew as he settled in. His clawtips just barely brushed against the back of Gale's shoulders. ``Now we're all nice and cozy.''

Gale didn't respond.

The organ swelled, and the first hymn began.

He should have been focusing on the music, the words, the peace of the ritual. Instead, all he could feel was the presence beside him. The heat of Case's body, the casual confidence in the way he leaned back - like this was exactly where he belonged. Even his singing voice, a pleasant baritone, seemed to blend seamlessly with that of the congregation as they began to sing.

Midway through the second verse, Case leaned in just enough for only Gale to hear.

``You ever wonder,'' Case murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, ``if God's watching you?''

Gale's breath hitched and he stopped even trying to mouth the words. He didn't look at Case, but he still heard the smirk.

``You think He sees?'' Case continued, his tone thoughtful, musing, like this was an ordinary conversation between two old friends. ``Sees what we do behind closed doors? What we really are? The ways we sin?''

Gale swallowed.

Then, just as easily, Case straightened, returning his attention to the hymn book as if nothing had happened.

The service continued as it always did, with the slow, measured procession of the choir. Dressed in traditional red and white vestments, they moved in solemnly, their voices rising in a hymn that sounded ancient even when new. The melody curled up toward the high wooden beams of the vaulted ceiling.

Around him, the congregation fell into step with the rhythm of the liturgy, their voices weaving through the familiar prayers. Everything was scripted, predictable, controlled. The words of the Book of Common Prayer carried on without hesitation.

There were no improvisations, no deviations. Only the steady pulse of ritual.

The choreography of the service was second nature to everyone here. They stood, they knelt, they bowed their heads in unison. A performance practiced for decades, passed down through generations.

Blake followed along with bright-eyed attentiveness, murmuring the prayers at the right moments, his small hands folded in his lap when he wasn't holding the hymnal. Catherine sat beside him, her back straight, her expression serene - content, as she always was when she could put on the appearance of a woman whose life was in order. Her knee kept her from being able to stand and kneel as easily as the others, but she still went through the motions.

And Case...

Gale tried not to look at him. But he could feel him there, sitting perfectly at ease. He didn't fumble over the prayers. Didn't miss a single response. He stood and knelt at the perfect moments, always with a quiet, respectful air. Like he'd been doing this all his life.

But Gale knew better. Case wasn't here for God.

The sermon was delivered in careful, measured tones - moral guidance with just enough weight to feel like wisdom, but never enough to demand change. Bishop Hart stood at the pulpit, her voice calm yet steady, her presence a quiet force in itself.

She was dressed simply, as always, in dark robes trimmed in deep, wine-colored fabric. The kind of woman who commanded attention without ever raising her voice. Gale had never quite known what to make of her.

She was of a similar age to Catherine, and had similar sharp-edged features. She was genuine. And that unsettled him in ways he couldn't explain. Her eyes found him, just briefly, as she scanned the congregation. Not in accusation. Not in scrutiny. Just... seeing him.

Gale dropped his gaze to his hands.

The choir began to sing again as the congregation prepared for Eucharist.

Blake was already shifting in his seat, eager to take his place in the line forming down the aisle. Catherine stood with quiet dignity, smoothing out her blazer before stepping forward, using her cane as little as possible.

Gale didn't move.

He stayed seated, his hands curled into his lap.

Communion was supposed to mean something. Even if he didn't believe in it, even if God was nothing more than a hollow concept to him, it still had the weight of something sacred. And after last night - after everything - he couldn't.

He wasn't worthy.

He shouldn't be here.

A hand settled on his shoulder. It was gentle. Supportive, even. To anyone else, it would have looked like an encouraging gesture.

``Come on, Acorn,'' Case murmured, his voice low. ``Don't want folks asking questions, do you?''

The pressure on his shoulder increased just enough for him to feel the wolf's claws. Firm but never forceful. Just enough to guide him. To remind him, without a word, that resistance was pointless.

Gale stood.

His movements felt disconnected from his body, like he was being pulled into the aisle by an invisible leash, shuffled forward with the rest of them. Step by step, inch by inch, until he was kneeling at the altar rail.

The silver chalice gleamed under the candlelight.

Bishop Hart moved down the line, murmuring quiet blessings as she placed the wafer into each outstretched hand.

``The body of Christ, given for you.''

Gale hesitated.

The bread felt dry against his tongue. It stuck to the roof of his mouth, clinging like something foreign, something wrong.

Then came the wine. It was bitter and rich, and it reminded him of that night when he'd been on his knees in Blake's room. It burned on the way down.

He barely had time to swallow before Case leaned in, so close that his breath ghosted against Gale's ear.

``Good boy.''

The words dripped into his ears like warm wax. As he walked back to the pew, he was forced to conceal an erection by hunching slightly and folding his hands in front of his crotch. No one seemed to notice.

The rest of the service passed quickly. He moved through the motions like everyone else, standing when they stood, kneeling when they knelt, but his mind was elsewhere. The words of Bishop Hart barely registered - something about redemption, about the burden of sin and the promise of grace - but Gale wasn't thinking about God.

He was thinking about Case.

A week ago, he'd told Gale how much he enjoyed the fact that he saw through Case's act. That he could `understand' in ways others didn't.

You want to believe in good people and bad people. In mistakes that should mean something. In fairness. But life ain't like that. Some people just are, and the ones who figure out how to move through the world without gettin' bogged down in all that sentimental shit? We win.

And twice now, he'd put Gale on his knees, humiliated and aching. That was the kind of worship Case was here for. And no one else seemed to notice.

And yet, Gale's thoughts kept circling back to him, an anxious loop of dread and anticipation. Would Case make him do something else? Would he do it here? Would he leave him alone?

That was the real question, wasn't it? Because even as part of him recoiled - at the way Case used him - another part wanted it. It was easier, somehow, when someone else was making the decisions. When he didn't have to think, didn't have to be anything except a toy and, perhaps, a witness.

The final hymn faded, and the congregation began shifting, murmuring, the rustling of fabric and footsteps filling the sanctuary as people gathered their things and made their way toward the doors. Gale stayed seated, gripping the edge of the pew as if it could ground him. The hour had passed in a daze, the weight in his chest growing heavier with each passing moment.

Then Case stood, stretching his arms with a casual ease before buttoning his cuffs and straightening his sleeves. He stepped into the aisle, but before moving forward, he turned slightly and brushed the tips of his claws against Gale's wrist.

A barely-there touch. One that might look like an accident. And yet, Gale knew, it was an unspoken order.

He stiffened. Blake was watching them with a curious expression, but his attention was soon pulled away by the post-service shuffle, distracted by Catherine checking his tie, making sure he hadn't wrinkled it. Still, his ears flicked, his gaze darting toward Gale for a fraction of a second before shifting away.

Gale swallowed, his throat tight, as Case stepped away, slipping effortlessly into the crowd

The seconds stretched unbearably long as he sat frozen in place. He could still feel the warmth of Case's fingers where they had barely brushed his wrist, could still hear the subtle amusement in the wolf's voice from the night before.

Oh. Did you think we were gonna cuddle?

His stomach churned.

It didn't matter what Case wanted. Didn't matter if it was another humiliation, another command. He wanted to obey. It was like he was under some spell.

Gale shifted in his seat, breathing slowly, deliberately. He could feel the nervous energy starting to crawl under his skin, making his limbs twitchy, restless. He was supposed to get up now. That's what Case wanted.

He could still leave. He could just sit here, pretend not to have noticed, pretend he hadn't understood. But even as the thought formed, he knew it was impossible. Case would never allow it. If he ignored him now, the wolf would only punish him. Or, worse, follow through on his threat to walk away.

The deer forced himself to stand. His legs felt stiff, but he made them move, keeping his voice steady as he turned to Catherine. ``I'll be back in a minute.''

She barely acknowledged him, too busy exchanging pleasantries with the Parkers and a family she knew, already slipping into social mode.

Gale's hands were shaking by the time he entered the side hallway, away from the main flow of the congregation. The church was quieter here, lined with classrooms for Sunday school, a small office for the choir director, and the restrooms - largely unused during normal services - tucked at the very end. Case was ahead of him, walking at an easy pace, hands in his pockets, not bothering to check if Gale was following.

The wolf disappeared inside the men's room, the heavy door swinging shut behind him.

Gale hesitated just outside it.

He was breathing too quickly. His throat was tight. His fingers curled into fists at his sides. His body was already reacting in the increasingly familiar mix of arousal and revulsion. His mind was running through everything that might happen. Every scenario, every new way Case could humiliate him. What if his shirt was stained? What if the wolf wanted more than a blowjob this time? What if someone came in? .

He was sick. Sick for dreading this. Sick for craving it.

Shame burned inside him, but it wasn't enough to change his course. He reached for the door, pushing it open with a trembling hand.

Case was at the single urinal, pulling his sheath back with one hand while holding his cock with the other. A thick stream of piss was splashing into the porcelain. He didn't react to Gale's presence.

The deer stood there, frozen. Waiting. Did he want him to... drink it or something? God, could he do that? The thought repulsed him more than anything else he'd imagined. But he knew he'd do it if Case demanded it.

The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly. The wolf finished and took his time shaking himself off, knowing Gale was watching. He was starting to get hard. Gale swallowed. This was it, then.

The automatic flush triggered and Gale jumped from the sudden volume of noise echoing through the small space. Case walked towards the sink, not bothering to look at him. He rolled up his sleeves, washed his paws

Finally, the wolf turned, locking eyes with him in the mirror.

``Jesus, Gale,'' he muttered, tossing the paper towel into the bin before smoothing his tie. ``What do you think is gonna happen? Get a hold of yourself. Pervert.''

Gale flinched like he'd been struck even as Case shoved passed him and left. Just like that. Relief and disappointment washed over him. His cock throbbed.

He stayed standing there for a moment, staring at his reflection in the mirror, feeling the shame wash over him. It was different this time.

Last night, he'd been humiliated, but at least he'd been something. At least he'd had a purpose. At least he'd mattered in some sick, twisted way.

Now, he was nothing at all.

That didn't stop him from rushing into the stall. His belt came undone. He let his slacks fall just enough. Thirty seconds and he was done. His cum splashed into the toilet in a few thin ropes. The remainder dribbled out, and a few drops got onto his underwear. The release was still welcome, even as the shame sunk in even deeper.

He cleaned up quickly, washed his hands, and then made his way back out to the congregation.

***

Sunday lunch at his mother's was an unspoken obligation. It always had been. Church service bled into the tradition so deeply that refusing wasn't even an option - not without a conversation Gale didn't have the energy for.

And now Case was coming, too. He doubted this would be the last time.

Catherine had been the one to invite him, of course. After service, as they stood in the church courtyard exchanging pleasantries, she'd turned to Case with the warmest smile she'd given anyone all morning.

``Case, dear, why don't you join us for lunch? I imagine it's been a long time since you've had a proper home-cooked meal.''

Case had chuckled, his expression perfectly modest. ``Well now, Mrs. Acre, I couldn't impose - ''

``Nonsense,'' she interrupted, waving a dismissive hand. ``You're practically family, and besides, we have plenty. It would be my pleasure.''

Gale had wanted to put an end to it. He'd wanted to step in, cut it off, insist they had plans. But Blake had already turned to him, eyes wide, hopeful.

``Dad, can he?''

And that was that. The Parkers had another obligation, or at least a polite excuse, at least. But that only made things more awkward.

By the time they reached Catherine's house, the afternoon sun had pushed the morning chill away, making the kitchen warm as she bustled about preparing a simple meal. Most of the ingredients had already been prepped. Including an entire roast chicken - just for Case.

``I know how you wolves like protein,'' she'd said as she placed it on the table in front of him. The rest of the meal was as it always was - light vegetable soup, a walnut and pear salad, roasted root vegetables, and warm rolls with fresh butter.

The scent of roasted meat was sharp, greasy. Gale swallowed against the bile at the back of his throat. He could hear the scrape of Case's fork against the plate, the soft chew. He forced himself to focus on his soup.

``Delicious, Mrs. Acre. You sure you're not secretly a wolf?''

She laughed. ``Oh, please, it's just Catherine. And I just remember how you used to eat when you were younger,'' Catherine added, pouring Case a glass of white wine. ``I wanted to make sure you had something satisfying. I can't imagine an herbivore's diet is very appealing to a wolf of your size.''

Case, ever the perfect guest, gave her a gracious nod. ``That's real nice, Catherine. I'll be sure to return the favor. I've got this gorgeous little table that might look good in your living room if you're interested.''

Gale barely touched his food.

The meal was pleasant on the surface - Catherine was in her element, doting on Blake and making polite conversation with Case, who was currently going on about how smart his kids were. His parents joined in, discussing some community board decisions they were involved in, the kind of social climbing that came naturally to them.

Then, as the conversation lulled, Case leaned back in his chair, casual, easy, and dropped it like it was the most natural thing in the world.

``You know,'' Case said, leaning back in his chair, ``me and the Bishop got to talking while y'all were making your rounds after service. They've been wantin' to get a youth athletics thing off the ground - somethin' to keep the kids busy, teach `em a little discipline.'' He picked up his glass, rolling it between his fingers before taking a slow sip. ``Figured they'd have a hard time findin' someone with some clout who gives a damn, but turns out folks still remember me from my high school days. Guess my name carries a little weight `round here.'' He smiled, setting the glass down with a quiet clink. ``What do you think?''

Catherine lit up immediately. ``Oh, what a wonderful idea! That church has been needing something like that for years.''

Gale stiffened. His grip on his fork tightened.

Case smiled like he'd barely noticed. ``Right? Figured I could lend a hand, maybe get the kids some real structured training. Teach `em some discipline, some teamwork.'' His gaze flicked toward Blake. ``What do you think, buddy? Sound like something you'd be interested in?''

Blake straightened in his chair. ``Yeah! Dad, can I do it!?''

Gale's mouth was dry.

He could feel Case watching him, just like he could feel Catherine's expectations hanging in the air.

There was no way to say no. Not without looking like an asshole. Not without looking like he was just holding Blake back because he had hard feelings about his past with Case.

Gale swallowed. ``Sure, kiddo,'' he said, forcing the words out. ``If that's what you want.''

Blake grinned, turning back to Case. ``Awesome! Are you gonna be a coach?''

Case chuckled, leaning forward to ruffle Blake's hair. ``Something like that. Probably not much of an organized league - at least not yet - but if all goes well, by the time fall comes around, we might have a few other church groups to play with.''

And then he met Gale's eyes.

There was nothing overt in his expression, nothing obvious to anyone else at the table. Just a flicker of something sharp beneath the easy charm. A glint of quiet amusement. Like he was enjoying watching Gale piece it together.

By the time they left, Gale felt hollow.

Case wasn't lurking anymore - he was settling in. Claiming space. Weaving himself into the foundation of Gale's world so methodically it felt inevitable.

Gale could feel the walls closing in. There was no getting rid of him now.

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