Texas and Tarantulas

by Bailey Bradford

  Mahon nipped at Trent’s collarbone, then again at each of his nipples.

  Trent found his voice then, at least enough to curse. “Fuck!”

  There was a rumble of amusement from Mahon, then he suckled Trent’s left nipple while rolling the right between his fingers.

  Trent had never cared much for tit play—he tended to skip over them on other guys, too—but now he was wondering why. Addictive heat swirled out from his nipples with each suck, each pinch. His dick grew harder, and he couldn’t keep still, turning his head from side to side, his breaths uneven, sweat rolling off him.

  Mahon worked his tits over until they were so tender even the slight wisp of Mahon’s breath made Trent shudder.

  Only then did Mahon move down, tonguing his way to Trent’s belly button.

  Trent wasn’t sure what to think of having that little dip tongue-fucked. It wasn’t bad, but it kind of tickled.

  Mahon moved further down. He lapped at Trent’s cockhead then nudged his hip. “Turn over.”

  Trent’s stomach did its dip and swirl thing, the one that happened when he was so aroused he was in danger of embarrassing himself. He rolled over and got his knees under him, at the same time gripping his dick with enough force to be uncomfortable. It was all that kept him from coming when Mahon took one of his balls into his mouth.

  Trent pressed his cheek against the pillow and spread his legs more.

  Mahon palmed his ass, pushing one cheek aside.

  The cool air from the AC seemed to be aimed right at his pucker. Trent arched his lower back, offering himself to his lover.

  Mahon gave his ball one last lick then he spread Trent’s cheeks apart with both hands.

  There was no waiting, no teasing. Mahon went after Trent’s hole eagerly, roughly, dragging his tongue over it again and again, pressing his face into Trent’s crease.

  Mahon rubbed his chin over Trent’s asshole. The brush of stubble was almost too much.

  Before Trent could jerk away, Mahon’s mouth was on his pucker, soothing the sting away.

  Trent clawed at the bedding with one hand. He couldn’t take much more of that when he was already close to the edge. “Mahon…for fuck’s sake, put it in!”

  Mahon pushed that slick tongue right into him and proceeded to drive moans and whimpers out of Trent.

  He hadn’t been rimmed in years, hadn’t let anyone do such an intimate thing with him since his freshman year in college when he’d been learning what he liked. He hadn’t cared for the vulnerability he’d experienced those times, but he felt safe with Mahon.

  And he could let go.

  Trent did just that, forgetting about pride and appearances. He rocked back, fucking himself on Mahon’s tongue, then on Mahon’s fingers.

  Trent hadn’t been aware of the lube being opened, or of Mahon even reaching for it. Regardless, he knew what that cool, wet sensation at his opening was. He shoved himself onto those thick digits the second after he felt them at his rim.

  “Ah, gawd,” he drawled, consumed with the feelings of bliss swirling up from his ass.

  “Careful,” Mahon grumbled, planting a hand on his lower back.

  Trent began to move, riding those fingers, whimpering when they caressed his gland.

  Mahon worked a third one in, and the burn was delicious, a perfect accompaniment to the rapturous sensations.

  Trent grunted and held his dick tighter, not wanting to come yet. He could have done so a dozen times. “Fuck me,” he finally had to ask, although it came out bossier than he’d intended.

  Mahon had his fingers free and his dick lined up in two seconds flat.

  Trent felt the press of the blunt tip at his hole—then he was flipped over.

  “This way,” Mahon said. “Wanna see you.”

  Trent could make out the barest bits of Mahon’s features, mainly those shifter eyes that held bits of flames in them. “Come on then, get that big ol’ thing in me.”

  “Romantic,” Mahon teased, just before thrusting.

  Trent bowed his back, mouth dropping open, throat clicking as he attempted to swallow and his body tried to adjust to the thick invasion in his ass. Mahon’s fingers weren’t small, but even three of them didn’t match the girth of his cock.

  Trent gasped a few times then he forced himself to relax his muscles before Mahon could think he wasn’t capable of handling this. “Move,” he got out once he had some spit in his mouth and could speak.

  Mahon braced himself on his elbows, placing them beside Trent’s shoulders.

  This gave Trent some room to play with Mahon’s nipples. He gave them each a twist.

  “Oh—” Mahon jutted his hips, pushing that fat cock in to the hilt.

  Trent couldn’t decide what was stronger, the pain of that sudden complete entry or the ecstasy of it.

  Then it didn’t matter, because Mahon started moving, drawing back slowly, pushing in the same way.

  Trent had to stop using both hands on Mahon’s tits. He needed one to jack himself with.

  Mahon bent and kissed Trent on his lips then on his forehead. He began to fuck Trent harder.

  Trent curled his ass up and locked his legs around Mahon’s hips. “Give it to me,” he urged.

  Mahon growled, shoving his cock in so deep Trent felt the thrust up to his belly. Mahon rode him without reservation.

  Trent gave himself with abandon.

  Together they hit the edge, both shouting, Trent’s eyes rolling, his ears clogging with their voices mingling. He was simultaneously aware of the wet heat splattering into him and his own spurting out between them.

  It was a perfect moment, a perfect fucking, and he knew it’d changed him somehow.

  It wasn’t until he started to drift to sleep that he realized he’d already tumbled from like right into love for the man at his side.

  Chapter Ten

  “Thank God Bill finally gave up and went home, wherever that is,” Joe was saying. “I’d about had it with the pretentious asshole.”

  Trent looked at Joe across the breakfast table. Sitting was a tad uncomfortable after the pounding Trent had taken a few hours before, but he had this peaceful feeling inside him that he’d never had before.

  “Spit it out,” Joe said after a moment. “You’re making me nervous.”

  Trent reached for Mahon’s hand under the table. He’d never done that, held a man’s hand, not even Mahon’s.

  It startled them both, with Mahon perking up and giving him a strange look.

  Joe frowned at them. “Y’all aren’t playing peckers under the table, are you?”

  Trent snorted in an attempt not to laugh. “No, dumbass. I’m just holding his hand. See?” He brought their raised hands up and settled them on the table.

  Joe seemed pleased—or maybe smug was more like it.

  Trent decided to ignore that. “You think y’all can do without us for a few days?”

  That had everyone looking at him.

  Trent eyed his biscuit then used his other hand to pick it up. Butter and honey dripped from it. He took a big bite and had a foodgasm from it. He should have known better than to moan.

  Joe smirked, Diego blushed, and Mahon looked like he was ready to grab Trent and carry him back to bed. Or just bend him over the table right then and there.

  Trent licked his lips.

  “All right, enough with the eye-fucking,” Joe complained.

  Trent swallowed his food then said to Joe, “That’s disgusting, bub. You should come up with a better term instead of that one.”

  Joe threw a biscuit at him. “Shut up. Only you would turn that into someone fucking an eye socket.”

  Diego gagged.

  Trent grinned. His work there was done.

  “Why were you asking about us doing okay without you? Where you planning on going? I assume you’ll be dragging Mahon along, too?” Joe fired the questions out in one breath. He inhaled noisily, his face flushed.

  “Chill out before you hurt yourself,” Trent adv
ised. “Does it matter where? You gonna need us less if I pick one spot over another?”

  Mahon squeezed his hand.

  Joe got a suspicious look on his face. “Maybe. What the hell are you up to?”

  “Something he shouldn’t be thinking,” Mahon said.

  Which pissed Trent off. “You don’t get to decide what happens in my head, buddy. Let’s make that real clear right now.” He would have pulled his hand away except it seemed a juvenile thing to do. “I may have let you fuck me—” Oops. TMI at the table. He shut up before he said anything else he shouldn’t.

  Joe and Diego got up. Joe pointed at him. “You need to get your temper under control. Topping or bottoming doesn’t make a guy stronger or weaker. You know that. And stop oversharing, for fuck’s sake. Jesus.”

  Mahon had his head turned away, but Trent could see the red streak along the one cheek.

  He’d been an asshole. “Look, I’m sorry, Mahon. I admit I have some hang-ups about shit I shouldn’t have. I don’t think less of you because you’ve bottomed for me. If anything, that takes a strength I only just got up the nerve to do. So I know better than to say the shit I was in the middle of saying. I just…” Trent realized he had two free hands now. Who had let go of whom? He took his hat off and gave his hair a tug. “I’m sorry.” He wasn’t going to spit out any more excuses. “I fucked up. I’ll try harder, but it’s going to happen again.”

  Mahon finally looked at him. There was no anger in his pretty eyes. He sighed then took Trent’s hand between both of his. “We both will. We don’t really know each other. Maybe no one ever does and that’s part of what a relationship is, learning about your lover every day.”

  “And commitment,” Trent added. “Not like Bill and his guy. That might work for them. I don’t want that.”

  “You want me,” Mahon said bluntly. “Just me.”

  Trent couldn’t help his sarcasm. “Duh. Who’d need more?” He tempered the sarcasm with a smile. “The question is, am I enough for you?”

  Mahon jerked him over for a rough kiss.

  Trent’s lips ached and felt like they were swollen by the time Mahon let him go.

  “Does that answer your question?”

  Trent touched his bottom lip. It was definitely fatter than usual. “Yeah. So that’s settled. When do we leave?”

  “We don’t,” Mahon answered.

  Trent didn’t like that at all. “You aren’t going off without me.”

  “If we both go, who will protect Joe and Diego?” Mahon came back with.

  It was a zinger, landing right in Trent’s heart.

  Mahon’s gentle expression said he knew it, too. “You saved them when the betas attacked. You’re the strongest of them, and they’ll need you here.”

  Trent wanted to argue. He could have—could have suggested that Joe and Diego go with them while neighbors or hired hands took care of the ranch.

  Except it would be on Trent’s soul if something bad happened to any of those people because he had insisted on accompanying Mahon.

  He wasn’t ready to admit that Mahon was right, however.

  “We should get to work.” He put his hat back on and got up, still holding Mahon’s hand.

  * * * *

  He’s going to leave me. He’s going to be gone by tomorrow. Trent couldn’t stem those thoughts throughout the day. He kept tangling Mahon’s departure up with his mother leaving them. He was a total mess by the time they stopped working.

  “You two coming over for dinner?” Diego asked.

  Trent shook his head. “Nah. We’re going to spend the night doing things y’all don’t want me blurting out over the table.”

  “No shit.” Joe pointed at him. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about your question this morning. You’ll have to tell me where you’re planning on running off to if you want any more biscuits in the morning.”

  “Yeah, okay.” Trent didn’t want to talk about that. He wanted to get Mahon naked as soon as possible.

  When he and Mahon got out of the truck at the trailer, however, Mahon went on alert. Trent saw it in his posture, in the way Mahon went so still and silent.

  Trent hadn’t shut the truck door yet. He reached in and took the gun down from the window rack. The shotgun was loaded. He hadn’t been keeping it as close as he should have been.

  But he had it in hand now. Trent stepped up to join Mahon and leveled the weapon up. “Tell me where and I’ll blast the fucker.”

  Mahon sniffed, his nostrils flaring.

  Trent looked through the scope, searching for a bear or a stranger. He saw neither, but Mahon growled and suddenly lunged forward. He’d turned into a bear before his feet—or paws—hit the ground again.

  “Wait!” Trent shouted.

  Mahon either didn’t hear or refused to listen. He barreled off at a surprisingly fast speed.

  Trent hadn’t thought bears could move that fast. Maybe regular bears couldn’t. Mahon was seriously hauling ass.

  Trent ran after him, mindful of the deadly weapon in his hands.

  A wolf came out from behind the trailer, heading straight for him.

  Trent didn’t hesitate to shoot. The wolf went down with a yelp and didn’t move again.

  Trent didn’t spend a second on guilt. He saw eleven or so wolves coming out to surround Mahon. There were also two very large, scary as fuck bears. He shot another wolf, then missed a third one but hit a bear on the hip. With one bullet left in the twelve-gauge, he tried to be very careful with the next shot, but a charging pair of wolves had him firing before he wanted to.

  Trent didn’t have any extra ammo on him. Why hadn’t he kept the gun fully loaded? “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He had to turn back and run for the truck.

  He heard a roar that chilled him to the bone. Trent didn’t look. If something was going to get him, he wasn’t going to make it easy. Glancing behind him could cause him to stumble or hesitate. He reached the truck, the door still open, and dove into the vehicle. Trent twisted around and slammed the door shut seconds before one of the wolves rammed against it.

  “Yeah, fuck you,” Trent snarled. He got his cell phone out and sent a text to Joe.

  Eight wolves, two bears. Need more guns and ammo ASAP.

  Then he tossed his phone down and grabbed the bullets.

  All the while, the wolf flung itself against the door and window.

  “I’m going to blow your fucking head off,” Trent shouted. “You stupid, goddamn fool why don’t you run!” Trent had the gun loaded. The wolf kept trying to tear its way through the window.

  There was no help for it. Trent scooted back and the next time the wolf’s head came up, he blew the goddamned thing off.

  Glass shattered and blood and brains went everywhere. Trent pocketed the ammo and scrambled out of the passenger door, pausing only long enough to make sure he wasn’t going to be eaten before he did so.

  He calmly aimed at another wolf and took it out. The bears were a problem—now that he’d looked away from Mahon, he couldn’t tell which bear was him. He could go with the obvious—two bears were going at one, but what if he was wrong? It was hard to be certain when those two bears were also clawing at each other.

  I should know this. I should know him anywhere. It felt like a betrayal not to be able to immediately recognize Mahon.

  But he had said they were all Mahons, all interchangeable and built up to be one scary being. Did that mean they looked alike in human form? For one horrible, terrifying moment, Trent imagined it—three men all identical in appearance. The idea made him nauseated. “Fucking no. There’s only him.” He shook himself to get rid of the thought. “Stop it and shoot.” Trent had difficulty doing so when all the damned shifters kept moving. One wolf changed into her human form and started running at him.

  Trent wasn’t going to be able to shoot her, damn it. He wished he had a rock or something to hit her with. He had good aim that way, too. But all he had was the shotgun.

  She came at him, spit flyin
g, fists up—and she shifted as she leaped.

  Trent hit her with the barrel at the same time he pulled the trigger. He was covered in gore an instant later.

  Two of the bears and three wolves were left. Mahon had killed a couple of them.

  And Trent knew which bear was Mahon. He’d nicked the one on the hip, another was at that one’s side, and the third was trying to get those two bears’ backs to Trent.

  Trent aimed at the wounded bear. It wasn’t too cooperative, moving almost constantly. Trent waited patiently until he had a good shot at the base if the beast’s head then he fired.

  “Down to one and two,” he murmured. The wolves were keeping out of sight for the most part. He reloaded, replacing the spent bullets.

  The bears were tangled up in a warped embrace.

  The squeal of truck tires and a cloud of dust heralded Joe and Diego’s arrival. Joe parked the truck beside Trent, less than two feet behind him.

  “Which one is Mahon?” Joe shouted over the increasingly loud roars and snarls. “Jesus Christ, it’s—a slaughter.”

  Trent refused to feel bad. Then. Later, he’d let the guilt hit him. “They attacked us as soon as we got here. A whole fucking herd of shifters, Joe. There’s two wolves back behind the shed, I think. Not sure. I lost sight of them.” He looked through his scope. “Can’t tell which bear is Mahon now.” Goddamn it, he hated that truth.

  “I can.” Diego shifted and darted away from them.

  “Diego! No!” Joe screamed again. “No!”

  One bear had its back to Trent.

  Diego ran around and started biting at the other bear’s heels.

  Trent aimed the shotgun. He had to be patient.

  The two wolves that had been hiding came charging out at Diego.

  Joe shot them both in rapid succession.

  “I’ve got this motherfucker,” Trent growled, coming out from behind the truck. Something dripped down onto his cheek. Not sweat, too heavy. He didn’t want to think about what it was. He kept the bear in his scope as he moved, ignoring Joe, ignoring Diego’s fearful yips. The bear that was Mahon was bleeding, and seeing his lover wounded, no matter his scary form, incensed Trent.