by BA Tortuga
“Why not? It’s my ass.” Stirling looked so goddamned smug.
“Yours? It’s attached to me.” He kissed the sorry son of a bitch.
Stirling kissed him right back, lifting him up so his feet left the floor. The heat of it sort of stole his breath, left him clinging, rocking against Stirling’s hands. He wanted to argue, to tell Stirling he didn’t want to be owned, but it was too difficult to think.
His ass hit the counter, Stirling muscling up against him, nails scraping his belly. Tanner’s legs spread like hot butter, and he moaned, his head falling back.
“Yes. Mine.” Stirling’s teeth found his throat, hands working off his sweats. “Mine, do you get it? My mate.”
Tanner’s eyes went wide, his heart pounding. “Oh fuck.” Mates? Them? Oh damn.
“What?” Stirling stared him down, hand on his cock.
“Your mate?” He knew what that meant, soul-deep. Fuck, they mated for life.
“Mine. I keep telling you, and you keep not listening.” Stirling bared his teeth in a feral smile.
“You’re so bossy, asshole.” He bumped up with his hips, encouraging that hand to move on his cock.
“I am? Shit, you’re the toppiest little bottom I know.” He got what he asked for, though, Stirling stroking him nice and hard.
“Not….” The edge of the counter pushed into his ass. “Stirling….”
“Are too. And you’re staying, right here where I can keep an eye on you.”
He almost managed to blow a raspberry. Almost. He was really busy. Of course, his house was trashed, the media thought he was dead, and his mom had been so happy to see him….
“You’re mine. You belong here with us.” Stirling’s teeth burned his collarbone.
His skin felt too tight, his breath heaved in his chest, and Tanner hung there, caught between Stirling’s hand and teeth, humping like crazy. He could stay. He could have a place where he was wanted. Needed.
“Yes.” Stirling was his mate, after all, was home.
He could find all sorts of new ways to stay busy. Even if he did hate the smell of pinyon.
Ring My Bell
THE BELL-RINGING gig was getting old. It really was. ’Course it was his own fault. That drunken brawl at the Oasis had cost Collin about five hundred dollars in fines and three weeks of volunteer work. As a Christmas bell ringer. It sure as hell lowered his Christmas spirit. So much for peace on earth, Collin was ready to have a mental breakdown. And the turkey leftovers were only just gone.
Damn it.
“You know, every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings,” some old blue-haired lady said while she dropped fifty cents into Collin’s donation can.
He bared his teeth. “That’s what they say. Happy holidays.”
“You too, honey.”
Shoot him. Now.
With a rusty motherfucking bazooka.
When his three-hour shift was finally over, Collin had frozen fingers, a permanent ringing in his ears, and a bad case of the growls. He wanted a pizza, a beer, and someone to rub his aching feet. Good thing he was easy to please and would settle for best two out of three.
He headed down to the end of the Walmart parking lot, where he’d parked his truck, and he groaned the minute his feet left the blacktop. Cowboy boots were not made for standing on concrete all day. They were made for shit kicking, which Collin still had to go home and do; his dogs and horses had been out all day. With his fucking luck, the barn had burned down.
Halfway home, Collin spied something in the middle of the road. Looked too big to be a coyote, too small to be someone’s cow, but it still had him slamming on the brakes when he got close. Goddamn. There was a crater in the damned road, and it was surrounded by bunches of white feathers, just like someone had hit a chicken truck. A big-assed chicken truck.
Problem was, the only thing in the crater in the road was a naked dude.
The guy didn’t look… damaged, really. No guts on the road. No smooshed parts. Just naked.
Naked and muddy as all get-out.
Collin crept right up to the side of the hole in the road and peered down. “Buddy? You, uh… you need help?”
Bright eyes stared up at him—one blue, one green as a bottle. “I could use a hand, yeah.”
Okay, okay. Weird. Very weird, but the guy was naked; what harm could he do?
“You need me to call an ambulance? Maybe a veterinarian?”
“Fuck off, asshole. I’ve had a long damned day. Just help me up, would you? I’ll make it worth your while.” Well, the guy wasn’t from here. There wasn’t an accent. One strong, pale hand was held up, already bruised as hell.
Worth his while. Well, maybe if he did a good deed, he could get out of bell ringing. He grabbed the guy’s hand and pulled gently.
Feathers fucking went everywhere, the wind coming sudden and cold. Mr. Pale-and-Naked was lighter than advertised and just landed in his arms, solid as anything, back slick with mud.
“Did you sacrifice a chicken?” Collin backed away from the hole, pulling the man with him, trying not to notice the naked man parts that kinda… rubbed all over. “Maybe a turkey?”
Although they didn’t make wild turkeys….
“In a manner of speaking, I suppose. My boss and I had a disagreement about corporate policy. He expressed his displeasure. I ended up here. He’s got a sense of humor.”
Jesus. No wonder he wasn’t white-collar.
“Your boss shoot you here on a rocket or something?” There was no car. No bike. No spaceship….
“Now that sounds just like something the big asshole would do. Look, I have some resources that are off the radar, so to speak. I don’t suppose you’ll give me a ride?” Oh man. The guy was really filthy.
“Uh.” Collin just kept telling himself the guy was naked. Unless he had a bazooka up his ass, there was no way he could be dangerous. “Where to?”
“Well, that depends. Where am I?” The wind blew again, and Mr. Naked pushed close.
“North of Dallas.” North enough that Dallas was a drive, and he had those critters to feed….
“Dallas? As in Texas?” Those weird-assed eyes looked up, lips tightening. “Very funny. I was hoping for closer to Vallejo, actually. Even Sacramento would have worked.”
“Sorry?” Hell, why was he apologizing? He wasn’t the one got himself dumped on the road in Texas. “Look, I can give you a ride into town, but I’ve got to go home and feed first. I could let you borrow some clothes.”
“I could nominate you for sainthood.” One dirty, shivering hand was held out. “Gazardiel. You can call me Gaz. Everybody does.”
“God bless you,” he quipped immediately, before grinning and shaking. “Collin.”
“Collin. Good name.” The dude started toward the lights of the truck, walking real careful like. “You want me to sit in the back?”
“Nah. You look cold.” It wasn’t blue norther cold, but it sure wasn’t warm either.
“It’s fucking freezing down here.”
Jesus, he hoped that stuff dripping off the man was mud and not blood….
“Look, I have a horse blanket in the back. It might smell a little, but you can wrap up.” He got the heater cranked up in the cab, got the blanket out.
“I’m not picky. Believe me. Right now, it’s”—the man tilted his head, bleached-blond hair falling into his eyes—“heaven.”
“You got a skewed idea of that.” Made no never mind to him, though. Collin got the guy settled in and hopped into the truck, then headed for home. He’d call in the hole in the road when he got there. The man was sorta creepy-still, riding without a sound, eyes closed, not even looking like he was breathing. They pulled into his lane, the truck lurching to a stop. Collin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before poking the guy in the ribs. “We’re home.”
Those weird eyes popped open, met his. “Home again, home again, jiggety jig.”
“Uh. Yeah. Come on in and get warm.” God, this man was weird.
Really, really weird. Maybe he had some brain damage or something.
“Thank you.” The guy was moving slower and slower, kind of looking like he was melting some. Drooping.
“Crap. Don’t you pass out on me.” He hustled around, putting an arm around the guy and herding him into the house. They just needed to make it to a kitchen chair.
“I won’t. It’s just been a long day.”
Lord, the guy needed a bath. Or a hosing off.
“I can see that. You have some serious bruises, man.” That and the whole feather thing.
“You are an observant one, aren’t you?” The blue eye winked at him. “My former boss had control issues. I think I told you.”
“Look, can you stand up long enough to take a shower? Some hot water might help.” That and it would be less unnerving.
“That would be fucking appreciated, sir. I smell like something dead.”
“Not that bad. Well, maybe. Here, I’ll show you where everything is.” He’d get the guy some clothes, let him have a shower, and then figure out who he needed to call.
The horse blanket hit the floor as soon as the hot water started flowing, the long, lean body disappearing into the steam, long hair going flat. Oh. Oh, pretty.
Whew. Okay. Down, boy. Weird, homeless, naked, muddy, unemployed guy. Not. Sexy. Sweats. Sweats would be short, but they’d fit better than his Wranglers. God knew he had enough T-shirts and all. He needed to get a towel or two, and maybe turn the heat up.
There was a pile of wet, bloody feathers in the little blue trash can. Bloody.
Gross.
And also fucking weird.
The clothes he put in a neat pile on the toilet. The towel he hung on the bar. Man, he was glad his momma had come over to clean a few days back. Because it never hurt to be prepared for random naked.
“Thank you.” A lean, clean, remarkably awake face appeared, smiling at him. “You are a Good Samaritan, aren’t you?”
“Me? Shit, no. I’m just trying to earn points, huh?” A Good Samaritan. Lord. He handed over the other towel.
“Just trying to earn your way in, hmm? Good luck with that.” He got a wicked grin, and then the water went off, leaving them in silence.
“To Heaven? Oh, not so much. I just want to stay out of jail.” Winking, he grabbed the other towel and handed it over too, hoping the guy would wrap it around his waist instead of using it on his hair too.
“Jail is too confining to have any real fun in.” The one towel was taken off, tossed in the hamper, the other put back on the thick hair.
Thick.
Not long and full, like the man’s cock.
Wait.
Stop.
No looking.
“You know it. Not to mention that the judge around here hates me. My sister’s ex-husband’s pop and all that.” That sucked big-time.
“Impressive.” He got another grin, a wink. “I’m relatively unfettered in the family department. I count it as a blessing.”
“Yeah? No brothers and sisters?” Collin handed over a still-wrapped toothbrush and his Old Spice roll-on, happy to give himself something else to look at.
“Not really.” The guy turned around and….
Jesus fuck.
There were long, bloody… stumps on the man’s shoulders.
“Dude.” Just. Dude. “You have…. I mean. I should take you to the hospital.”
“No. They’ll heal.” There was a sudden flash of fury in the odd eyes that faded, just like that.
“Yeah. Sure. They just look….” Collin swallowed hard. “You want some ointment, at least?”
“Is that a proposition, Collin?”
His eyes snapped up to meet those weirdly uncoordinated ones. “No! I’m gonna…. Go order pizza. Clothes there.” He fled.
The soft laughter followed him.
“I promise not to jump your bones, pretty man.”
Pretty. Him.
Lord.
This guy was gonna be nothing but trouble. He could tell.
THERE WERE good days and bad days. Rough days. Harsh days.
Terrible days.
Then there was that day when you pissed the Boss off so bad your motherfucking world got upended and your happy ass landed in motherfucking East Texas.
Texas, for fuck’s sake. Land of cowboys, chili, Bible belts, and women with hair better suited to contacting alien races than anything else.
Gaz chuckled, the laughter making the raw bones between his shoulder blades scream.
He rolled his eyes, bit back the curse that threatened, and wandered out, looking for the pretty cowboy. Honestly, those tight little asses? An excellent invention on someone’s part. He approved.
“Hey. You feeling less crusty?” Yeah. Pretty. Dark brown hair, green eyes. That broad shoulder thing with the narrow waist and long legs. Nice cowboy.
“I am. There may be enough mud in your plumbing to rebuild a small adobe village, complete with a market and a whorehouse.” He could eat the man alive. Well, not in the literal sense, but in that pay-per-view, gold-lamé-shorts gay porn sort of way.
“Oh. Well, I don’t reckon we need the market….” One dark brow went up, that grin really wide and cute.
“Ah, but a house of ill-repute filled with nubile young things?” Who the fuck came up with the word nubile?
“Depends. I’m not so sure about nubile either. I just like a nice quick fuck now and then.” Collin’s eyebrows drew together, his mouth snapping shut like he couldn’t believe what he’d just said.
“Don’t we all? That is one of the benefits of having a cock, isn’t it?” He was exceedingly fond of his. In fact, that had been the beginning of the argument he’d found himself in.
“Uh. Yeah. Yours is nice.” Now those cheeks went bright red, Collin spinning on his heel to head into what was presumably the kitchen. “You want some coffee?”
“Of course.” He followed, bare feet slapping on the linoleum. “How’s yours?”
“Coffee? I have Folgers. Not fancy, I guess.” The man wouldn’t look at him.
“I meant your cock. I’m not terribly picky about my coffee.” Honestly, anything now worked for him, so long as it was rich and black.
“My….” Collin cleared his throat. “I don’t think I want to talk on that.”
“All right.” Pity, though, it promised to be a decent piece of equipment. “Have I thanked you for stopping to help me?”
“I think so.” That rangy body moved around, the man measuring coffee, pouring water. “I need to get a little more work done, so if you want to put some clothes on, you could help me.”
“Does it require riding or roping anything? Because I have to tell you, animals don’t want me on their back.”
“No. No, just watering and feeding and shit. But if you don’t like animals, I can show you where the guest room is. No big.” The coffee started smelling really good, perking away.
“I like them. I don’t ride them. I’ll dress.” He wandered back to the bathroom, rolling his shoulders, beginning to feel the aches and bruises. They fascinated him.
He could hear Collin moving around, hear the man whistling some jaunty tune. It was cute how much the guy relaxed when he wasn’t present and accounted for and naked. The pants fit reasonably well, but the shirt pressed against his stubs, so he left it behind.
“You’re gonna get cold, man,” Collin said when he came back out. “You sure you don’t want a bandage?”
“They ache some. I’m sure I’m supposed to learn something.” Right. Like that was going to happen. This wasn’t a fucking art film.
“Well, I can give you something softer, maybe. A fleece jacket.”
God help him, he was stuck in Texas with a genuinely decent guy too.
“Thank you.” Would offering a blowjob be an inappropriate gesture of gratitude?
Collin was staring at him again. Maybe the guy felt safe now that his lower half was covered. “Sure. Uh, over here. So, you got people in California?”
“People? No. I do have a bank account, a thriving phone-sex business, and an apartment.” Only one of those facts was a lie.
“There a lot of money in phone sex?” One dark eyebrow went up, a glorious smile curling those well-shaped lips.
“You know it, man.” He answered that smile, his shoulders rolling with pleasure from seeing it. “You can’t imagine the crusty old men wanting to know what I’m wearing.”
“Oh, I bet I can.” Clearing his throat, Collin nodded to the back door. “I gotta go feed. Here’s that jacket.”
“Thank you. What do you need me to do, since you obviously know what I’m wearing?” He eased the jacket on, the soft fleece warming him.
“Oh, I’ll just get you to help me with the easy stuff.” They headed out into the cold, the place nice enough, dogs and horses and a donkey, of all things.
“An ass. How very Biblical. Is there a manger?” That would be perfect.
“A what? No. What kind of question is that?” That lean body went through the motions of work easily, Collin slinging food around, showing him how to water everyone.
“I have a very odd sense of humor.” He watered, the horses staring at him, nostrils flaring. Honestly, it had been a long enough day. He didn’t need equine drama.
They worked in silence for a good while, Collin just sort of doing, leading him to do by example, but finally the man grinned at him. “Hungry?”
“You wouldn’t believe how much. Honestly, I could eat a moose.” And pick his teeth with the antlers.
“Well, I don’t have moose, but I have some steaks, huh?” Oh, he’d bet Collin could do a good steak.
“Oh, you are a good man. That would be… amazing.” Food and a nap.
Please.
“Cool. Come on.” Really, all he needed was a collar and a leash and he could look like Collin’s faithful dog.
Well, that thought was growl-worthy, at best. Faithful….
Would that be irony?
“You okay?” Collin was frowning at him with concern, staring at him where he’d stopped walking. “You overdid it, didn’t you? I tell you what, I knew as soon as I saw your back….”