They made it as far as the sofa before Michael insisted they sit and discuss what had just taken place on the front porch.
"You were a dog," Michael said in words that still suggested some resistance to the truth. "A dog that just got really happy on the front porch," he added, remembering the puddle of canine cum cooling outside near the front door.
A crimson blush scalded Freddie's pale face. "That wasn't entirely my fault," he defended himself. "You can't believe what getting scratched behind the ears does to a dog!"
"To a dog," Michael repeated for emphasis and grabbed his boyfriend's hands into his — the same hands that had been front paws only moments earlier. "Freddie, why were you a dog?"
"The ring," Freddie blurted, finally remembering why he had made the trip from his home to Michael's. "It had to be that ring from the magic shop."
Michael's thoughts raced backward and forward. "I told you not to read that inscription," he admonished. "I better go upstairs and get it."
Freddie slid his hands from Michael's. "I don't think it matters now. I'm me again."
Michael shook his head at Freddie's naive attitude toward magic. "Freddie, we're talking about the Medici ring. That inscription... that spell, really... it was more likely than not a curse."
"A curse?"
"I told you the Medici were Italian bankers," Michael explained. "Well, really more like one of the first Italian mob families. The ring and its curse probably helped them deal with people who fell behind with their payments."
"Yeah, perhaps you should get the ring."
A few minutes later Michael returned, the ring curled in his fist. Once he rejoined Freddie on the sofa, he unfurled the fist and plucked the ring from his palm. He held it to his face, looking like he considered the object a loathsome bug rather than a simple bad of precious metal.
As he looked at the wording of the inscription without speaking any of them aloud, he noticed a smudge. Rubbing at the spot with a fingertip, he revealed some heretofore unnoticed words: maledetto senza preavviso.
Freddie noticed his boyfriend's intensely focused study of the ring. "What is it?" He couldn't stop himself from asking.
"There are other words," Michael said and frowned. "You should have listened to me."
"Other words?" Nervousness crept into Freddie's voice.
"I'm not sure what they mean," he said. "I'll need to double-check, but I think they suggest the curse strikes randomly."
"So...the ring randomly turns people into dogs?"
"No," Michael said. "The ring turns people who read the inscription after their boyfriend tells them not to do so into dogs."
Michael's tone held just enough condemnation that Freddie felt stung. "I didn't want to have anything to do with that old ring," he protested. "I only got involved because I could tell you wanted it so badly."
Michael closed his eyes and wrapped his fist around the ring again. "You're right, Freddie. I'm sorry. We both got into this mess, so we'll solve it together."
When he opened his eyes, he saw everything differently. He also saw his nude boyfriend seated on the couch next to him. He grinned and looked at Freddie's semi-hard dick. "So, what was it like?" Michael inquired as his grin widened.