Lust and Other Drugs

by TJ Nichols

  “Can we not talk about work for one night?” Mason said. “Or I’ll have to tell you about the five rotten extractions I did.”

  Jordan grimaced and sipped his beer. He’d attended plenty of crime scenes that would turn most people’s stomachs, but rotten teeth were guaranteed to make him queasy. “No work talk. How’s Bud? When’s he due home?”

  Mason shrugged. “Was meant to be next month, but with the Nigerian crisis, the tour’s probably going to be extended.”

  “That’s shit.” Jordan shook his head.

  “I don’t know how you do it,” Pete added.

  “Because I love him.” Mason smiled. “And his Marines uniform.”

  For a little while, conversation swirled around Bud, sports, and wondering where Sean was. He wasn’t usually late, and when he did arrive, he was with the mystery boyfriend they’d all been hearing about for the last month… or was it two?

  Jordan finished his second beer. They decided to get pizza, but it wasn’t food he was hungry for.

  “You’ve been so distracted tonight.” Pete mock-punched his arm.

  “Sorry. Tired, I guess.” The lie fell too easily from his tongue. “I might go home.”

  He would go home, go to bed, get some sleep, and go for a run before he went to see Everett for a haircut. But he could do all that after he went to the vice den. Go for pizza, be smart.

  What if that was the last time? Go once more before he cut his hair and got used to being plainclothes. He pressed his lips together.

  His friends asked him to go with them, but his resolve had already crumbled. He wanted the rush, wanted to sink into the ecstasy of desire. He knew why the churches decried Bliss and wanted the dens banned even though they were part of mytho culture. Some people just couldn’t handle it when others found pleasure. So his friends left disappointed in him, and he vowed to make it up to them another time.

  He finished his beer alone. Maybe if he had a boyfriend, he’d be able to resist.

  If he had a boyfriend, he’d have to hide his lingerie. It didn’t fit the image of what a top should be. Tonight it wasn’t a boyfriend that he wanted. He needed release, the sweet taste of Bliss on his tongue. He wasn’t an addict, just another guy who wanted more than his hand or a stranger’s. He stepped outside and for a heartbeat thought about walking to the train station. Instead he sighed and turned toward the vice den.

  The den was down Geary Street, not far from popular human clubs where he could slink in and find a willing partner. But the lace rubbed against him, and he didn’t want to deal with laughter or derision. Bliss didn’t ask questions. It filled him and drained him, left him weak-legged and sated in a way few lovers had ever done. When the den first opened, there’d been graffiti every night and the patrons had been harassed as they left. The cops had taken statements but done very little to help. So the satyrs put ogres on the door for protection.

  The local church called it a nest of sinners and perverts.

  Jordan smiled. They were no different. They just weren’t honest about it. But he couldn’t be honest. He’d be tossed out of the SFPD for drug use. That fear was almost enough for him to walk by, but it was smothered by the need. His body was tight with anticipation.

  He let his hair fall forward as he walked up the stairs, mimicking the sultry glide of an elf. Even though humans weren’t supposed to go in, some did. But the satyrs were very careful to never let them out the back. Some things were not for humans, but it wasn’t hard to work out what was happening behind that door. The smell of sex coiled around him as he went to the front counter.

  The satyr taking money was barechested, though he’d be wearing either a kilt or a loincloth for modesty. Not that it mattered. Jordan knew exactly what was hiding behind the cloth, and it was impressive. Even if he had ventured out the back, he wasn’t brave enough to tackle what had to be ten inches of satyr dick… though he didn’t mind the view.

  The satyr glanced at him and nodded. “Usual, Elf?”

  “Yeah.” Jordan put a fifty on the counter and tried not to look the satyr in the eye. The rectangular pupils weirded him out. In that moment he was just another junkie looking for a hit and trying not to act like he needed it bad. Christ, he needed to get his shit together. His dick hardened with each breath. If there was a raid, he was fucked and the den might be shut down. They shouldn’t be selling to him, but they were happy to take his money and look the other way. He should report them, but he wouldn’t. Couldn’t.

  The satyr pointed to a room.

  No real names were needed. It was dangerous for them too, but they never said no. They knew him by scent, by craving. Red Bliss. There were others that gave a different buzz. Bliss wasn’t like the drugs humans dealt in. It didn’t cause violence or death, and it wasn’t supposed to be addictive, though once he decided to go out and get some, his body hungered the way it did when he needed to pick up. But Bliss carried no risk of hurt feelings or STIs. No one would want a call in the morning, and he was guaranteed a fucking excellent orgasm.

  The room already had four other Blissed-out beings, including a werewolf and something with leaves in its hair. They lay on cushions fully clothed, but their lips were parted in ecstasy, and their cheeks bloomed pink. Jordan swallowed. Once he’d taken the drug, he’d be out for a couple of hours.

  No raid was planned, but that didn’t mean something couldn’t go wrong.

  A satyr in a loincloth came in carrying a silver tray with a tiny silver bowl in the center. His cloven hooves tapped on the wooden floor. His legs were furred and muscular, and the loincloth did nothing to conceal the lines and shape of his junk. Jordan forced his gaze up, over the satyr’s chest and the hair that dusted his pecs. His beard was neatly trimmed, and he was smiling. His tongue darted over his lip as he thrust his hips forward. “A pity you are only here for this.”

  Jordan nodded. He was breaking enough laws already. Satyrs were allowed their vice dens because it was part of the culture—and it had taken time for them to win that battle. Other mythos were allowed to come because they had participated in satyr hospitality before, apparently. Everyone had to take their word for it. He didn’t understand why humans weren’t allowed, but evidently the satyrs didn’t want them there.

  Jordan picked up the bowl. A pile of what looked like red sugar sat in the bottom. It was supposed to be harmless, but it didn’t have FDA approval, and like any street drug, it could be made from anything, and he didn’t know what it actually was made of. He had those thoughts every time, but the promise was too much. Before he could force himself to be smart and safe, he tipped the Bliss into his mouth and then placed the bowl down.

  Jordan wasn’t an addict. He was in full control. He just wanted a strings-free good time.

  And couldn’t remember the last man he’d fucked. He hadn’t had a boyfriend in years. His job….

  The edges of the room softened, and he sat down. He liked this bit, the foreplay that awakened his body, the tingling of his nerves, and the way every movement echoed. The friction of the lace was almost too much, so he adjusted himself and shuddered as he lay back. Then he closed his eyes as pure pleasure washed through him.

  He didn’t know what he thought of during that time, but when he cleaned up in the bathroom later, his hands shook and his heart fluttered as though he’d just been fucked into next week. His pupils were wide and dark, and he looked a little stoned, so he splashed water on his face and rubbed away the smudges as best he could. Then he slid out into the cool night air and sobered up as he walked to the train station. The hollowness returned with each breath.

  Next stop—his dark apartment.

  Sinner hissed at him as though she knew exactly where he’d been, but she dutifully followed him into the building and up the stairs. As long as no one else knew where he’d been, he could take the cat’s displeasure. She’d be smooching him by morning and trying to steal his breakfast.

  Chapter 3

  AFTER A week from hell—Edra had avoided ta
lking to the human cops so far—he was glad to be going to the satyr den on Geary. He’d known the owner, Leonaris, for decades. There was no line out the front to get in the way there was with some human nightclubs where he could’ve picked up, but he couldn’t be bothered dealing with humans, and he didn’t want to be someone’s first mytho, or worse, have them realize halfway through the act that he wasn’t human.

  Fuck them all.

  At the den he knew what he was getting. He’d had to show his government-issued ID that marked him as mytho in order to join the club. Now he showed his membership card, put the bills on the counter without a word, and went through to the back. On the way he passed the room where people Blissed out. While there shouldn’t be humans there, a few were curious, and sometimes they were allowed in, if they could be trusted. If he’d been there officially, he’d be searching the rooms and kicking out the humans. Leonaris knew they meant trouble—and it was illegal to admit them—but it was sometimes easier to have human friends.

  Tonight he didn’t give a shit who was there or what they were doing.

  He hung his coat up on a hook. The one next to his held the distinctive tang of musky werewolf sweat. There were other places he could go to meet up with mythos, but that would require effort and talking and putting on his nicest manners, and he really couldn’t be bothered. He just wanted to get off, like everyone else there.

  “Wine? Absinthe? Mead?” The satyr behind the bar smiled.

  Edra let his gaze wander over the toned chest, but he couldn’t see lower because of the bar. There was music, traditional lyre and flute, overlaid with sounds of sex from the curtained rooms. They didn’t serve human drinks there—humans had taken mytho drinks back to their world centuries earlier and had just forgotten where they came from. “Mead.”

  “Warmed?”

  Edra nodded, accepted the glass, and drank deeply. The golden heat filled him immediately, and he made his way over to some cushions and flopped down. The previous occupant had left his shoes behind. If he was behind one of the curtains, they were probably the last thing he was thinking of. Edra toed his off and tucked them to the side. A few satyrs wandered past. Here they didn’t bother with the clothing humans insisted on. They strutted past, dicks swinging, tails wagging, laughing and deep in conversation.

  For a few heartbeats, Edra could pretend the collapse had never happened. He closed his eyes and sipped his mead. He had no idea what had happened to his sword—not that he could carry it in the human world. He’d get arrested three steps out his front door.

  Someone groaned, and he heard the slap of skin on skin.

  “Were you looking for company tonight?” said a deep voice close to his ear.

  Edra’s tongue flicked over his lip, and he nodded without opening his eyes. He didn’t need to. The scent of satyr coated his tongue. The satyr would have been told he’d paid for company, and he’d been given a few minutes to make himself comfortable. If he’d been at the bar downing shots, he wouldn’t have been approached until he sat and relaxed.

  Edra stretched back and glanced at the man who’d whispered in his ear. The satyr was very handsome—dark-haired, blue-eyed, with pearly white horns. All satyrs were handsome in a wild way, even the women. Edra ruffled the man’s hair and ran his finger over the little horns. He was almost sure he’d seen the man before.

  The satyr ran his hand up Edra’s leg. “What did you have in mind, dragon?”

  The satyr’s cock had risen, thick and ruddy and so very tempting. Edra finished his mead, not sure what he wanted to do with what he’d paid for. It was always fun to try and swallow….

  Edra dragged his gaze up to the satyr’s face.

  The satyr moved closer and slid his hand higher to cup Edra’s balls and squeeze. “Did you want to ride or be ridden? Will you be human or dragon?”

  Edra chuckled and captured the satyr’s jaw. “Not even you would dare ride me as a dragon. I will stay human so you can ride.” And hopefully visible. He kissed the satyr while the satyr continued his caress. It would be a waste to come here and not be ridden. Few fucked like a satyr.

  “Audience?”

  “Not this time.” The last time he’d been there, he may have done half a dozen absinthe shots before he lay on a cushion and let a satyr fuck his mouth in front of anyone else who happened to be there. Another had jerked him off. He was pretty sure that’s what had happened; the night was kind of hazy. But it had been his hatchling day—or the date he’d appropriated because the calendars didn’t match up—so he really didn’t care how much he didn’t remember. He remembered the hangover rather too well, because he’d woken up in dragon form and been unable to shift for twenty-four hours. At 134-ish, he really should know better than to get drunk and naked and tell a satyr to do whatever.

  But clearly he’d left an impression.

  He reached down and brushed his fingertips over the head of the satyr’s cock. Fuck, it was fat. He suppressed a shiver as his ass clenched. He hadn’t had sex in his dragon form in a decade, but that would be pushing his luck even with a satyr.

  The satyr deepened the kiss, sucked on Edra’s tongue, and undid his belt. For a moment Edra thought there would be more. He lifted his hips, but the satyr was just teasing. Edra’s dick was already rock-hard, and he wanted more than kissing and groping in the lounge area. He lifted his eyebrows.

  “In a rush?” The satyr lazily stroked Edra’s length.

  He hadn’t been, but the mead, the scent of sex, and the satyr’s touch were unraveling him. There was something about the den that stripped away any pretense. The satyr stood and extended a hand to him, and Edra grasped it and was drawn up and into the satyr’s embrace. His thick heavy dick pressed against Edra’s thigh as he skated his hand over Edra’s hip to grasp his asscheek. Edra couldn’t help but rock his hips and grind against the man as he was once again caught in a kiss.

  He was wearing far too many clothes, but cold raced over his skin. He wrapped his hand around the satyr’s dick, and his silvery fingers didn’t even meet. He was going to lose visibility before they’d even gotten started—he really needed to have sex more often. Maybe that would help him gain control so sudden spikes of emotion didn’t render him invisible.

  The satyr guided him to a curtained room where cushions were scattered on the wood floor. Edra stripped off his shirt and undid his trousers while the satyr drew the red brocade curtain. The light was dim, the room almost intimate, but sound still filtered in.

  The satyr finished undressing him, interspersing his movement with tastes and kisses. He lapped at Edra’s balls and along his length and then took him in his mouth. Edra’s breath caught as he stared down and watched the satyr work him over. He threaded his fingers through the dark hair and rubbed his sensitive horns. Satyrs generally liked that.

  The satyr looked up, mouth still stretched around Edra’s dick. The rush of cold over Edra’s skin was enough to make him pull away. He wanted to stay visible, and he hated it when he couldn’t keep it together. The satyr just grinned and grabbed the lube. He remained kneeling as he slicked his cock and worked over the fat head and down the length. Edra’s stomach tightened as he turned and dropped to his knees, not caring that bone hit the wood.

  He put his palms on the floor. His fingers weren’t silver. Even if they were, even if it were spreading, he couldn’t stop it. The collapse had taken that control away from him.

  Cool, slick fingers teased his hole until the muscle softened and one finger eased in. It was swiftly followed by a second. Edra dropped to his elbows and rocked his hips back, inviting more. The fingers twisted and stroked.

  “Fuck.” The word fell from his lips as the satyr caressed the spot within him that turned his belly to fire and his dick to stone.

  The satyr reached beneath and tugged. Edra wasn’t sure if he should thrust into the fist or back himself onto the fingers. He didn’t get the chance to ponder as the satyr withdrew his fingers and the fat head of his cock rubbed against his hole. T
he satyr’s hands spread his cheeks, so he opened.

  Edra breathed out, ready.

  He pushed back, needing to feel the stretch, but the satyr made him wait another heartbeat before he thrust in. Edra closed his eyes. It was too much. Fuck. Gods, yes.

  He hissed as cold washed over his skin.

  The lack of his visibility didn’t stop the satyr. He kept his hands on Edra’s hips and sank deeper with each thrust. The hair of the satyr’s thighs tickled the back of Edra’s legs, and his balls swung against him.

  The satyr withdrew, leaving him empty and aching, but his hand found Edra’s cock. He stroked, swept the leaking fluid over the head, and teased him until he was fucking the satyr’s fist. Then he let go. Edra panted as he tried to catch his breath. His heart beat too fast, but when he cracked open his eyes, he wasn’t silver. He was visible.

  A smile formed, and he glanced back, ready for more.

  The satyr grinned. He rubbed his dick over Edra’s tender hole and then thrust and sank fully into his ass, almost pushing him to the floor. Edra braced for the next thrust as the satyr fucked him hard. His ass burned, too full, but every stroke hit exactly the right…. His hips jerked, and he gasped as he came on the floor.

  The satyr drove him to the ground, and Edra let him take what he wanted. The need to come again simmered in him, and the fire was stoked with each thrust. It was the mead, the scent of sex, and the simple pleasure of being fucked by someone who was almost as strong as him. He shuddered as the second tumble of lust raced through him and stripped his bones.

  The satyr’s fat dick twitched, and he grunted as he came, still thrusting. Edra’s ass clenched, and he groaned. Every touch was now too much.

  The satyr pulled out, leaving Edra alone on the floor, aching and in a mess, to pull himself together. Satyrs didn’t stop for cuddles.

  He wasn’t sure how long he lay there before the cool of the floor seeped into his skin. He forced himself up, glad he didn’t have to go to work tomorrow, because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to sit. He tried to flatten his smile as he wiped away lube and come with the tissues provided, but it stuck.