Wild North

Ivan had always worked alone. He was part of the dog sledding branch in the US postal service and ran mail deliveries across Alaska during the winter. In warmer months, however, when his sledding team was not needed, he spent his time gathering food and firewood, and occasionally also fished and hunted for sport. His only company were his dogs; all eight purebred huskies he had whelped from pups and trained himself to be the fastest team in the region. He liked his life of solitude and never wished for anything more, never having felt the need for much human contact.

So one day when Headquarters dropped on him a young, Texan rancher who knew absolutely nothing about dog sledding or the harshness of the northern wilderness – well, it came as an unpleasant surprise.

"Hey! Thanks for having m–"

"Listen, pup," Ivan cut him off before he could finish. "All you are going to do here is to do everything I say, is that understood?"

The pup – Alfred – nodded eagerly.

"You are to split the firewood stacked over here," he continued, waving towards the woodshed they were standing in front of, "muck out the dog kennels over there," he jabbed at the kennels behind him with his thumb, "skin the furs of any game I bring back, prepare our meals, do the washing – well, write it all down! I will not repeat myself."

He had hoped to scare the overly-tanned whippersnapper back to Texas with his stupid cows and show horses, but Alfred applied himself to every task without a word of complaint. As spring turned to summer and even the thickest of ice began to thaw, Ivan found himself warming up to the stubborn pup in spite of himself.

He did not know when it was that Alfred became a natural presence in his life, but that came to pass as well.

It was the tail end of August and there was a new chill in the air warning of approaching winter. For Ivan it was still pretty warm, so he usually used only enough firewood to cook and bathe with. But Alfred, who was used to a warmer climate, did not adapt as easily. He shivered under layers and layers of clothes, and Ivan, taking pity on the pup, allowed him his outrageous fires, making it a point to keep the woodshed well-stocked.

There was time to break him into the Alaskan winter yet when their service was called in with the snows.

"A-aren't you c-c-cold? D-Dressed like th-that?" Alfred chattered, hands tucked into his sleeves and arms wrapped tightly around himself, as Ivan glanced down at himself to check what he was wearing, a steaming mug of coffee in hand.

He thought he was dressed warmly enough in a shirt and a light cardigan, so he said, "Not really."

He was actually feeling a little stifled with the inferno Alfred had stoked up in the fireplace, but he chose not to mention it.

As August turned to September and the night frost began to stick during the day as well, Alfred's fires were consuming their log pile at an increasingly alarming rate, and Ivan felt he could no longer afford to spoil his pup lest he wished to deforest the whole of Alaska.

"But it's cold!" Alfred whined as Ivan stopped him from adding yet another log into the fire that night.

He pulled a trembling Alfred to his chest, the poor lad still a southern sapling, and wrapped a fur throw around the both of them. He set his chin on top of Alfred's wheat-blond head, breathing in his fresh summery scent.

"So I will keep you warm," he said. "Now keep quiet and show me your needlework."

They took to whiling away the evenings in that manner. They would both sit on the bear rug in front of a moderate fire with Alfred leaning into Ivan; the former stitching pieces of leather and fur together as the latter watched, dozing slightly. Outside, the wind rattled the cabin and blew intricate frost patterns across the windowpanes which Alfred would admire the next morning.

It became another natural part of their lives. Alfred would leap into Ivan's arms after dinner was cleared, excited as any real pup he had every whelped, and they would stay glued together until it was time for bed.

One night in celebration of the first dusting of snow on the ground (it would not be long now before they were called in to work), Ivan broke out his store of vodka and they had a few sips of it after a particularly rich dinner Alfred had cooked up.

It turned out that Alfred was also new to alcohol, and though he had much improved his sewing, he was especially clumsy with the needle that evening. When he pricked his finger badly enough to draw blood, Ivan took his hand and popped the digit into him mouth to suck it clean.

That somehow led to their mouths coming together, and their hands roving all over one another, Ivan's snaking under Alfred's clothes to feel bare skin, mapping out the plains of his flesh and taut, wiry muscles as he reached down to palm at his hardening member…

Alfred broke from the kiss with a strained, "Oh god!" as Ivan started to stroke him with quick, jerky movements of his hand. His lips latched to the side of Alfred's neck, marking him just above the collar of his shirt, just so it would be visible. Alfred panted and hitched at the riot of sensations, his torso curving into a bow, his cock brought out fully and exposed to be already weeping in the firelight. He clutched at Ivan and moaned wantonly, his face red from the fire and the alcohol and the flames of his own lust... and he was beautiful, Ivan thought. His body sang to his touch as if he were a musical instrument, and the most wonderful noises were coaxed from his lips which were reddened to a pretty shade.

Alfred soon came with a small groan, stiffening and shuddering from the accumulated tension. Then he came winding down, panting and perspiring, dropping his head into Ivan's shoulder. Ivan's hand pulled away sticky with his seeds. He pressed a tender kiss to Alfred's sweat-soaked brow. The fire was falling low, but for once Alfred was not rushing to throw in any more logs.

He was still caught in the afterglow as Ivan shifted his weight and brought Alfred closer to him, swaddling him deeper into the fur throw.

"W-we shouldn't have done that."

Ivan blinked, surprised and uncomprehending at the words Alfred had uttered in a small enough voice that he could have ignored it. But he did hear it, and he was too concerned to pretend otherwise.

They have retreated to Ivan's bed in the corner of the cabin, skipping past the makeshift cot that had been Alfred's own sleeping quarters. Now they lay naked together under a good heaping of fur, and were warm, comfortable and sleepy from lovemaking. But Ivan had snapped wide awake at Alfred's words. Alfred sensed the change in mood and curled a little into himself.

"Why not?" Ivan asked.

"B-because!" Alfred sat up quickly, pulling one of the furs to cover his modesty, flushing with embarrassment. "It's not r-right... and I'm sorry, but can we forget it happened? Please?"

Ivan stared into his blue, beseeching eyes, the colour of a clear summer sky, and he found his heart shrivelling at the rejection he thought he saw in them.

"No," he said flatly.

Alfred looked ready to cry.

He tried to rise, but got tangled in the furs and stumbled, falling heavily back to bed. Ivan was up in a trice, and he grabbed hold of Alfred.

"Why are you asking for it to never happen?" he demanded, fury in his voice, as Alfred struggled to free himself.

"L-let g–"

"Answer me!"

He threw Alfred back onto the furs, pinning him down by his wrists and kissing him, kissed him hard. He knew now that he wanted this, he wanted Alfred, and he knew that Alfred wanted him too.

So why was he telling him to forget everything?

"Alfred," he panted when at last he pulled away. "Alfred, look at me – look!"

Alfred was trembling, but he obeyed the command and cracked open his eyes.

"Did you like it when I kissed you?" he asked, his voice gentle.

Alfred nodded.

"When I touched you?"

Alfred hesitated only slightly before nodding.

Ivan felt a rush of relief. He dropped his forehead to Alfred's, finding that their breathing matched one another's perfectly, and he stared straight into Alfred's eyes, wanting to know just what Alfred really meant as he asked, "Then why did you say it wasn't right?"

"Because it's not natural!" Alfred burst.

Ivan blinked again, utterly confused. He saw panic seize Alfred and wished he had not pushed the subject after all. Alfred attempted to squirm himself free, but Ivan held firm to him, feeling that if he were to let him go now he would never win him back.

"But Alfred, I do not understand."

He dipped his head and trailed a kiss along the side of Alfred's neck. Alfred stiffened all over, letting out a hitched breath that he immediately tried to suppress. He began to tremble as Ivan switched around and kissed the other side of his neck, revisiting the mark he had left there with a swipe of his tongue.

"I do not understand why you think this is not natural," he murmured as he moved his lips down, down to a perfectly sculpted collarbone and sucked briefly at it, admiring his still-tanned skin. "This is the most natural thing in the world," he continued, kissing every part he could reach with his lips as he worked his way down Alfred's chest. "I want this. You want this. What is it that is so unnatural to you?"

He brought his own erection to Alfred's to make his point. Alfred flushed again. He had thrown an arm across his face, but now he peered at Ivan from under it, looking so completely aroused and dishevelled and beautiful that Ivan thought his heart would burst.

"Alfred, I love you."

The words slipped from him, hoarse with desire and without any thought, yet he knew them to be true the minute they left his lips.

Alfred's eyes widened to a bright, impossible blue.

"I-Ivan… I-I love y–"

It was enough, it was all he wanted to hear, and he captured Alfred's lips once more in a kiss that was rough and sloppy but real, his heart thundering, oh thank god, thank god!

The night yawned seemingly into eternity, a lifetime in a moment as they consummated their newly-kindled love. The wind whipped along the trees, bringing with it the first flurry of snow that would not melt in the day, and keep on falling.

Winter had arrived.

Author's note

At an age when little girls dream of ponies or something, I was completely obsessed with Jack London novels and went on to consume anything and everything to do with wolves or Huskies and dog sledding. White Fang is easily my first memory of reading and finishing a book for adults and Balto my favourite animated film. There were a number of other 'doggies in snow' stories I was into as well but I can't remember them now orz

I guess the fascination lay in the fact that I was born and raised on the equator and never knew winter or seen snow until I moved to the UK quite late in life. It was a whole other world quite literally. I thought I've grown out of it, but revisiting some old favourites brought back the same feels orz orz

So what do I do with childhood feels at a university-attending age? Write RusAme porn of course! Hope you enjoy ^^/