by BA Tortuga
“Your place isn’t here, Connor. You know it. One day you’ll hurt him.”
“Bullshit. This is where he belongs. Can I hit him with the fire extinguisher?” Hurt him?
A smile actually lifted the corners of Connor’s mouth. “It wouldn’t do much good, sweet. He doesn’t injure easily.”
The look Connor turned on the man, though, was fierce. “This is my place. You’re the one who doesn’t belong, and you’ll not ruin it. You’ll go, and you’ll take your trash with you.”
Adrian was going to be sick. Really.
Like really, really.
“I’ll go. But when this one is old and gray, you’ll be back, Connor. Mark my words.” The little guy went to the door and whistled, and damned if more goons didn’t show up and haul the… the other ones away.
He just sort of stood there. Watching. Eyes wide, throat working.
“Is the door broken?”
“I think so, sweet. I can… I can fix it.” Connor had a smear of blood on his cheek.
“Are… are you okay?”
See him.
See him cope.
Cope him.
“I am.” The door flapped a little, and Connor went to put a chair in front of it. “Are you, sweet? Are you all right?”
“Uh. No. I don’t think so. They broke my door.”
Connor’s face sort of crumpled, those eyes so sad. “I’m sorry, Adrian. I’m… I…. This is all my fault. I should never have thought to get away. I’ll… I’ll go.”
“Go?” Okay. Okay, wait. Hold on. This was…. Things like this didn’t…. “You want to go?”
Connor stopped halfway to the closet, clutching the sheet. His shoulders slumped. “No. No, love, I don’t want to go. But I… I’m a freak, yeah?”
“Don’t go. I can’t…. Please, Connor. I can’t think right now. Don’t go.”
Connor turned and looked at him, brows drawing together, then came over, hands rising to grasp his shoulders. “You’re shocky, sweet. You need… oh. I dropped the pizza.”
“I’ll order another one. I watered your plants.” He closed his eyes for a second, trying to figure out what the fuck was going on. “There were dogs. Here.”
“There was me, sweet. Me and two others like me, and…. And the owner.” Rough fingers stroked his cheek, his throat.
“Owner?” He just stepped closer. Christ he was cold.
“I….” Reaching out, Connor drew him close, that skin burning up. “I wish I knew how to tell you.”
Under his fingers as he caught Connor for balance, he could feel the scars. Hundreds of them.
“He hurt you?” Oh yeah. He was so going to be sick.
“He fought us. In the pit.” Oh. Oh God, like one of those illegal dogfights?
Oh. Oh, his poor Connor. He turned and scrambled for the bathroom, sliding through the sludge on the floor and crashing down. Strong hands lifted him, carried him, and before he even knew it, he was on the floor in the bathroom, right where he needed to be.
He hurled until there wasn’t anything left inside him. Then he just sat, heart pounding. Breathing. “Why didn’t someone stop him?”
“He’s…. It’s not…. There’s not rules down there like there are above.” Leaning on him, Connor stroked his hair. His voice had that sad lilt again.
“My poor love.” He cuddled, starting to shiver. “You should have let me call the police.”
“And tell them what? My lover is also a wolf who really isn’t a wolf anymore, thanks to careful breeding by an immortal spirit?”
“Uh. I guess not.” Oh God. A wolf. A…. “The big dog. In the rain.”
“I’m sorry, sweet. I was afraid to tell you.” Connor pressed a kiss to his nape. “I’m sorry.”
“Are they coming back?” A wolf. He was in love with a wolf? Okay. Fuck.
“No. I don’t know. I’d hope not, sweet. No one has ever fought back before.”
“Ever?” What the fuck? How utterly fucked-up was that? “Connor? We are never going to Ireland. Ever.”
Never. No matter how pretty the photographs are.
Damn it.
CONNOR WANDERED. He and Adrian had gotten back into their routine, he supposed. They ate pizza. They cooked bacon. They even snuggled at night in their nest while Connor told Adrian the good things about Ireland, about his childhood, about how the very hills had music in them if you listened. About how he’d lived with his mother until he was grown and the owner came for him.
They had talked and talked.
The one thing they hadn’t done was… kiss. Love. Be together.
He sighed, his fingers stroking over the case of Adrian’s violin. He looked sideways at where Adrian sat, not moving or swaying or even humming. Just sitting, looking out the window. Connor picked up the violin case and took it over.
“Play for me?”
Dark eyes blinked over at him, hands reaching for the case automatically. “What do you want to hear?”
“I want to hear something you love. Something that will make you smile.” He helped, holding the case while Adrian opened it and took out the instrument, then settling at Adrian’s feet.
“Oh.” Adrian closed his eyes a moment, tuning and plucking, then set bow to strings. The music was… stilted at first, distant, wrong. Adrian’s leg was tense against him, vibrating. Then the music began to smooth out, the sounds becoming rich and sensual and round.
Connor could smell it, the change in Adrian as he lost himself in the music, in the making of it.
Oh, thank God. It made him smile. It made him sad too, to think how much he disturbed Adrian now. He stroked Adrian’s leg, listening, humming along.
Adrian sighed, shifting closer to him, to his touch. The song slipped into a merry little jig, light and quick. Oh, playing for him, with him.
Yes.
Connor tapped his fingers along with the little beat. He knew this one. Knew the tune. Almost knew the words. The song sped, Adrian’s soft laughter adding to the joy, the dancing notes in the air. Connor laughed too, more at ease than he had been in a week or more. Finally he remembered, knew the words, and he started to sing.
The music softened a little, coming up under his voice, adding to it. Joining with it. Oh. Oh, this was….
It was perfection wrapped in music. They both faded away to silence at the same moment, the last note lingering so long it seemed like it might break.
Adrian carefully put the violin into its case, the sound of the clasps shutting so loud that he jumped, almost barked. Then one warm hand stroked over his short hair. Those fingers petted him, loved on him a second before Adrian landed in his lap, wrapping around him. He put his arms around Adrian and held tight, burying his nose in the long, floppy hair at Adrian’s neck. Oh. He’d thought he’d lost this. He truly had.
“Love you, yeah?” The words were almost silent, whispered right under his ear.
“Adrian. Oh, sweet. Love you. Was afraid I disgusted you.” He kissed Adrian’s cheeks, his nose and lips.
“Scared me. Those men scared me. What they did to you scared me.” Adrian’s fingers were on his cheeks, tracing his scars. “I don’t know how to start asking questions.”
“Anything. You can ask me anything, sweet. I wouldn’t hide from you. Not from you. Not anymore.” No more hiding. That had almost gotten Adrian killed.
“Does it hurt? Are you… still you when you’re… whatever it is you want me to call it when you look like a pup?”
“That’s the other me, love. And what do you think?” He laughed out loud, looking Adrian in the eye. “Didn’t I still lead you to the bacon?”
Adrian’s head tilted for a second, and then that sweet laugh rang out, full and tickled. “You did!”
“There, you see? I’m still me.” He never even thought that it might bother Adrian, that Adrian might think him a mindless animal. But he could see why.
“Good. Is… is it like… I mean….” Adrian sighed, grinned. “Are there times you have to be f
uzzy? Is it just whenever? Is it contagious?”
He pondered that. “I tend to… to change under extreme stress. I think maybe once it was tied to the moon, but we were bred down, if you will, for a specific purpose.” Connor shrugged. “That’s what my mother always said, at any rate.” As for the other…. “It’s born, so far as I know, sweet.”
“Oh. Okay. Well, I….” Adrian frowned, dark eyebrows meeting above the long nose. “I guess we need to put in a doggie door. So if you need to, you can come in. I don’t want you just hanging out down there in the cold.”
Oh, he did love this man. Connor kissed Adrian again, lingering this time. “I’ll do. Now I know where the buzzer is.”
Adrian hummed a little, the sound deep, low. Wanton. Those hands were exploring him, relearning him, the touch unafraid. “Okay. You can use the buzzer.”
“Better that way.” Connor rose, pushed back for half a second, his shirt sailing off to one corner as he pulled it off and tossed it. “Oh, I missed your touch.”
“I wanted to touch you, but I didn’t want you to think I was just curious.” Adrian cuddled right in, fingers tracing each scar, adoring his skin.
“And I thought you’d shrink from me. We’ve wasted time, sweet.” Grinning wildly, he touched Adrian back, sliding his hands around to pull Adrian closer, to share his heat.
“Mmm. Warm.” Adrian tugged off the heavy sweater that hid that fine skin from him. “I didn’t ever thank you, you know? I should have.”
“For what, sweet?” What could Adrian thank him for? He was the one who had a home now. That skin. God. He touched, traced, tickled a little.
Soft little musical noises sounded against his jaw, his throat. “They were going to hurt me. You came home. You stopped them.”
“But I lost the pizza.” He dipped his fingers under Adrian’s waistband, searching for the head of that sweet cock.
“I can always order more pi….” Adrian sucked in, moaned low. The motion sent Adrian’s cock bobbing and pushing against his fingers. “Oh.”
“Pretty. Smell good.” He wanted to taste. He’d not done that before, really, always allowing Adrian. Connor slid down, having Adrian lie back, reaching to pull those soft pants down, letting him look his fill.
“I smell like our soap.” He loved how Adrian pinked, spread, moved restlessly.
“Mmm. And like you. It’s….” Addictive. He put his nose against the base of Adrian’s cock and scented him, breathing deep. Connor’s cock throbbed in his own trousers. He held Adrian steady with one hand, licking up all the way to the tip, the flavor hot, a little acrid.
“Oh. Connor.” Adrian was watching him, eyes wide and hungry, just staring. “Again?”
“Mmm-hmm.” He glanced up, met those dark eyes, tongue touching all the way back down, then up.
It was like watching Adrian play, somehow. The long body bowed up, like Adrian was connected to his tongue. Closing his lips around the head, Connor sucked, remembering how good it felt, how it felt even better when Adrian had his tongue against the slit. He did that too, just to see what would happen.
“Connor.” Adrian’s shoulders left the dark nest, body curling toward him, the scent of wanting and needing suddenly stronger. “Love.”
Yes. Oh, that was wonderful, that look, that ripple. He remembered to move his hand, suddenly, dragging it up as his mouth went down. Salt-sweet drops slid onto his tongue, rich and pure, almost shocking his tongue. His eyes flew wide, his fingers tightening until Adrian moaned. Then he eased off, reached down for Adrian’s balls, weighed them.
So soft, the skin warm and delicate and so easily hurt, and Adrian never tensed, never pulled away. Trusted him. Even now. It humbled him. Even in his ever-growing world, Connor knew he would never find such trust again. He finally just closed his eyes and began moving, up and down, sucking hard.
The low moans got louder, the music in them lost as Adrian arched up into his lips, offering him everything, anything. Connor would have smiled if he could, but the need riding him and Adrian’s thrusts made it impossible. He could touch, though, and he did, fingers sliding down to play at Adrian’s hole.
“Yes. Yes, love. Please. Close.” The heavy sac was drawn up tight, the jerks toward him rough and needy.
If he could just…. Connor breathed deep through his nose so he could take Adrian all the way in, one finger slipping right inside that unbelievable heat. Adrian’s body squeezed his finger tight and a sharp cry echoed as bitter salt poured into his mouth. He moaned, his own hips snapping. He just needed a little. Connor licked Adrian clean before kneeling up, tearing open his trousers.
Adrian’s eyes were bright as buttons, fastened on him. Those lips were parted and damp, hands reaching for him. All he had to do was push into those hands, the floor under his knees making him wish they were in their pillows. But he didn’t care. He just wanted.
Strong and sure, Adrian’s fingers wrapped around him, both hands pulling, tugging, working him. Playing him. His own sounds were like growls, deep and primal as he thrust, his muscles tight as a sailor’s rope. It took no time at all for him to shoot so hard that he saw stars behind his eyes.
He was drawn into warm arms, Adrian cradling him, wrapping around him with a little hum.
The relief stunned him. Carefully avoiding the violin on the floor, Connor lifted Adrian and shuffled over to the array of pillows and beanbags, then laid him down.
“Mmm.” Adrian pushed close, lips against his throat, boneless and warm and cuddly as a pup. “Love, yeah?”
“Yeah. Love you.” They still had a lot to talk about. A lot to work out.
But now that Connor knew Adrian loved him, wanted him, needed him there, he knew that they would. He’d found himself a home. He was free.
Free to love Adrian as long as the world would let him.
Pinyon
THE WOODS were too damned quiet. Normally Stirling would hear magpies and jays, chipmunks and squirrels. Today there was hardly a rustle of leaves, which meant someone was in the forest who didn’t belong.
Lots of folks used the national forest land all the time for recreation or hunting or whatever. The animals got used to that and went about their business. The silence told Stirling that someone was either in trouble or was doing something they weren’t supposed to be doing. He checked his radio to make sure it was off, not wanting to alert anyone to his presence. Then he scented the wind, letting his second, and stronger, set of senses take over.
The scent that hit his nose was odd, familiar and not for the half-second he actually smelled it. He frowned. Weird.
Stirling headed west, following the scent, hand on his weapon.
He thought he heard a soft growl as he neared a copse of pines, but the sound disappeared as he stopped. Still, he waited and tilted his head, letting his good right ear do the hearing. His left had been perforated once, thanks to a bad fall while he was rock climbing. It had never been the same.
The growl sounded again, the noise moving to his left.
Stirling moved slowly, choosing his steps carefully. He didn’t want to break a stick or send a rock rolling.
He sniffed again—this time the wind brought him a definite scent. A wolf. A male.
Raising a brow, Stirling moved into the shadow of a big pine. The wolf was coming his way, and the wind wouldn’t betray Stirling’s presence, so he settled in to wait.
The skinny creature came out into the sun, nostrils flaring, fur matted and rough.
Jesus. Stirling could count every rib, could see every frickin’ bone. Where the hell had this guy come from? They were having a good year for water and small game.
The wolf lifted his face toward the sun, chest heaving like bellows.
There was something there, something about the way the animal smelled, something about those weird, too-golden eyes. They were familiar. All of it was familiar, somehow, but this wasn’t one of the current pack. Stirling knew all of them, as far-ranging as they were.
It surprise
d the hell out of him when the wolf just settled, sat right there in the middle of the clearing. That was crazy. Weak, starving, the fool thing needed to find cover. Stirling pulled a gun, but not his service revolver. He got his tranq out instead.
There was a damn good chance it was sick. He just hoped he didn’t have to put it….
The wolf’s ears twitched, twisted, and then it jumped to its feet. Shit. He moved quick, stepping free of the trees to get a good shot. The poor guy couldn’t move too fast.
The wolf turned, ran for the tree line. He took his shot, the dart sank into one flank, and the wolf stumbled forward, panicking. Stirling gave chase, knowing he had to make sure to incapacitate it before the wolf could hurt itself. He dropped to the ground, one knee on the wolf’s body.
“It’s okay, boy. I got you.”
The wolf rippled underneath him, eyes wide, paws scrabbling furiously.
“Don’t fight it, man. You need rest, food. I’m not gonna put you in a cage.” He wouldn’t do that, not ever.
Those eyes looked at him, the wolf’s face changing, shifting just for a heartbeat. Tanner.
Jesus Christ.
Stirling rocked back on his heels, surprised to the point of stupidity. Wolf-Tanner scrambled up and shot forward about three feet before collapsing in a heap of dirty fur, dead to the world, but thankfully not dead.
He hadn’t seen Tanner in damned near fifteen years. It would be a shame to kill the man on his first day home.
Especially since, from all accounts, the man had left because he hadn’t inherited the shifting gene….
RUNNING.
He was running.
The cars were chasing him, honking and roaring, and he couldn’t find his way back to his apartment, to his life, his home. Tanner whined softly, paws digging in. Everything was wrong. Everything.
He expected dirt and leaves under his feet. His instinct had taken him far from the city, back to the mountains he’d known as a pup. There was something softer under him, warmer.
He yelped, nose wrinkling as he tried to focus. That brought the most amazing scent to his nose, warm and familiar and musky. That was everything that had ever been good about home, right there.