by Lynn Hagen
Samson looked at the cruiser. He’d have to sit in the backseat. No thanks. “I can manage to walk back on my own.”
“Samson, wait,” Dillon called out.
He ignored the deputy as he stomped back to the clinic, thankful as hell Mr. Lumberjack hadn’t shot at him or confronted him, because, to be honest, Samson probably would’ve fainted.
Or wet himself.
Whatever would have happened, it wouldn’t have been his finest hour.
“Is everything okay?” Dr. Sheehan asked when Samson walked into the clinic. “I heard you shouting, and then you were gone.”
Samson was surprised he didn’t see Eric in the hallway or marching down the street to find him. Then again, his mate couldn’t stand without falling over. Even so, he would be livid when he found out what Samson had done.
And there was no use trying to keep it from him. Dillon and Vince would tell Eric about Samson’s idiotic chase.
“I stubbed my toe.” He was already going to get a lecture from his mate. He didn’t need one from the doctor. But of course Dr. Sheehan looked at Samson as though he didn’t believe him.
Could he blame the guy?
Samson eased back into the room, but Eric hadn’t fallen asleep. He was sitting up on the bed, looking stressed, his hands pressed into the edge of the mattress. “What the hell is going on? I heard you scream.”
“Fine Threads is having a sale.” Samson took a seat on his chair and pressed his hands into his lap. From the way Eric’s eyes narrowed, he definitely wasn’t buying Samson’s bullshit. “Who doesn’t get excited over a sale?” In a small cheering voice, Samson said, “Yay.”
“And you knew this from the lobby of the clinic?” His mate scratched at the stubble on his jaw, as if drawing patience from some invisible well. “Out with it.”
With a fast-beating heart, Samson told him the truth. “I don’t know,” he said as he wrung his hands in his lap. “I just went, without thinking of the consequences. I know, I’m an idiot who needs adult supervision, but all I could think about was making him pay for what he’s done to you.”
“Make him pay?” Eric didn’t sound the least bit happy about Samson’s efforts. “That’s my job.” He stabbed a finger against the mattress. “I’m the one with the badge and gun. Not you. You could’ve gotten killed.”
Samson pressed all ten of his fingers to his chest. “But I’m here and clearly not dead. Shouldn’t I at least get a thank-you for trying?”
“You want me to thank you for putting yourself in harm’s way?”
“What the fudge sticks is your problem?” Samson stood and paced toward the door, his hands on his hips. “That’s right, I risked my wellbeing in order to get answers. I want this guy caught.” He paced toward the bed and then back to the door. “I want him to pay for nearly killing you. I want the bad guys to leave us alone, and I want the sun to shine every day on our happy little union. Is that too much to ask?”
All Samson’s worries and fears came to a head. He was taking them out on Eric, the last person who deserved them. But being in a tizzy was better than crying, which was what Samson felt like doing. First James and now Mr. Lumberjack. Was everything in the cosmos lining up to shit on them?
Samson couldn’t stop seeing the mangled cruiser in the intersection. Couldn’t stop imagining Eric’s crushed body behind the wheel. The second one hadn’t happened, but it could have. It was a miracle Eric had survived at all. It had been a miracle that Eric hadn’t been as mangled as the car.
Samson crushed his palm against his forehead, sucking in deep breaths as he fought to make his tears go away. A strong hand grabbed his wrist and pulled him to his left. Samson fell into Eric’s arms, sobbing as he thought about what could have happened, how things could have gone horribly wrong.
“Hey. Hey.” Eric brushed his hand over Samson’s hair. “I’m okay, sweetheart. I’m okay.”
“No, you’re not.” Samson wiped at his eyes and stared up at Eric. God, he had amazing brown eyes. “You can’t even stand without falling over. You’re not okay.”
“You’re afraid. I get that. You’re allowed to be frightened. And if you want to use me as an outlet, I’m a big boy. I can handle it. I’ll be your outlet, but I’m also the only person in the world who loves you deeper than the abyss you’re falling into.”
“I don’t want to take anything out on you.” Samson closed his eyes when Eric pressed a hand to his wet cheek. “I just want all this madness to stop.”
“Lingering effects.” Dr. Sheehan walked into the room, staring down at his tablet. When he lifted his head, he looked at them. Sympathy and warmth filled his eyes. “Should I come back?”
“No.” Samson shook his head as he straightened, pushing from Eric’s arms. “What were you saying?”
“How are you feeling?” Dr. Sheehan set his tablet on the end of the bed and used a penlight to check Eric’s eyes.
“Better.” Eric reached for Samson’s hand and held on to it. “Not so dizzy anymore, and the nausea went away.”
Samson used the collar of his shirt to wipe away the rest of his tears as he cleared his throat and tried to appear calm and collected enough without his emotions getting in the way. Eric gave his hand a light squeeze, as if telling him that falling apart was just a part of life.
“What you were injected with was a very toxic poison,” Dr. Sheehan said. “Shifting helped remove it, but the chemicals had a lingering effect. I think you’ll be okay. You just need to give your body time to get the rest of it out of your system.” He patted Eric’s knee. “If you had been human, you would have died instantly. Your shifter DNA saved your life. Your body burned through the poisoning so quickly that it didn’t have time to do what it was meant to do, but it did manage to knock you on your ass.”
“So shifting again will help?”
“I think so,” Dr. Sheehan said. “You are one very lucky man, Deputy Jacoby.” He picked the tablet back up and headed for the door. “Use this room to shift. Take your time. I’ll run more tests when you’re back in your human form to make sure the last little bit of the toxin is out of your system.”
Samson sagged against Eric, relieved his mate would be fine. He was also ready to hunt Mr. Lumberjack down and beat the snot out of him.
“See?” Eric hugged him closely. “As good as new.”
With a deep sigh of relief, Samson took a step back. “I’m gonna go into the hallway and call the station to let them know you’re gonna be fine and also work with the sketch artist again. So get naked and shift.”
Eric grinned. “You just wanna see my cock.”
“I wanna see you completely healed.” Samson grinned. “And yeah, I also wanna see your cock.”
Sex was the last thing on Samson’s mind, but he liked that Eric was smiling and joking. That meant he was better. And better was a good thing.
Chapter Nine
The drive to the house didn’t take that long, but even the second shift hadn’t fully knocked the drug from Eric’s system. One of his ass cheeks had gone numb, and his right hand kept twitching. It looked as though he was tapping his thumb against the wheel to some imaginary tune in his head.
“I still say we should have stopped to check on my mom.” Samson sat there with his arms crossed, staring out the window.
“We drove by the salon. She’s fine.”
Samson snapped his head around. “You can’t do a wellness check with a drive-by.”
“Call her,” Eric suggested.
“I don’t like bothering her when she’s at work.”
“But you just wanted to—” Eric let it go. His mate was purposely picking a fight, and he couldn’t understand why. He stopped at the intersection where he’d been hit. The cruiser was gone, and the street was clear of any debris, but as Eric sat at the light, he kept hearing the echoing sound of metal crushing metal. His head, where he’d hit it on the window, starting throbbing. Words suddenly flashed in his mind.
You have no idea the shitstorm you’ve
stepped in.
“Eric?” Samson frowned at him. “The light’s green.”
Eric eased into the intersection, his gaze looking both ways as he drove on.
“You passed the bakery.” Samson looked out the window before turning to look at Eric with an expression that was more suspicious than curious. Did his mate think he was kidnapping him? Technically he was but in a good way, not the creepy way.
“I’m heading home.” Because Eric’s numb butt cheek was too much for him to try and climb stairs. With the way his luck was going, his leg would give out and he’d stumble to his death. While his hand twitched. And a stray dog ambled next to him to take a piss on his head.
Going home was a much better idea. At least if he fell at home, it would be on soft carpeting.
“You should have told me we were going to your place,” Samson said. “I’m not even dressed for the occasion.”
Eric chuckled. “Being naked is the only requirement.”
“Must make having company a very awkward visit,” Samson teased as Eric parked and got out. “Tell me a hot UPS driver shows up naked and I’m sold.”
“I’ve seen the person who delivers packages around here.” Eric unlocked his front door. “I don’t think she would turn you on.”
“There go my fantasies.”
“Now, the mailman, he’s a whole other story.” He winked at Samson as he tossed his keys aside.
“Oh, I know!” Samson blushed. “I’ve seen him once or twice. He can stick a letter in my slot any time he wants to.”
Eric laughed. “Not unless he wants my foot as a special delivery up his ass.”
“Hey, he might be into that kind of thing.” Samson shrugged.
His mate looked around as Eric headed into the kitchen to get something to drink. His small house wasn’t much to look at. It was decently furnished, no frills, but it was cozy, and that was all that mattered to him.
He cracked open a bottle of grape soda and took a long swig, loving how the bubbles burned his throat. When he turned around, he dropped the bottle and gaped at his very naked mate.
Samson picked the bottle up, set it on the counter, and grabbed some paper towels to clean up the mess, all the while Eric’s eyes glued to his soft cock.
“You really should be more careful. You could get ants.” Samson tossed the paper towels in the trash. “Got anything good to eat around this joint?”
“You are not standing there having a normal conversation with me while your cock is staring at me.” Eric ripped his shirt over his head, cursing that his hand still twitched. When he caught up to Mr. Lumberjack, he was bitch slapping him with his twitchy hand.
“What?” Samson gave Eric an innocent look. “You said being naked was a requirement. I’m only following house rules.” He looked Eric up and down. “But you’re not.”
An electrical storm ignited in Eric’s balls and worked its way up his body. Even his numb butt cheek tingled as he bent and removed his boots. He tossed them aside, keeping a hand on the counter so he didn’t fall over, and then straightened.
“That’s still not naked,” Samson said in a singsong voice as he walked over to the fridge and opened the freezer. That gave Eric a perfect view of his ass.
It was a view he wanted to fall to his knees and worship. A view that should make every man in town so jealous of what Eric had right in front of him. Not even the mailman’s ass looked this good.
Samson grabbed a small container of ice cream and closed the fridge. Of course Eric wanted to throw Samson to the floor and fuck him until both of them were screaming to the gods, but he was also appreciating the view.
After Samson had grabbed a spoon from the drawer, Eric watched Samson lick the spoon, his tongue gliding over the metal as his cock shot to full attention. Watching Samson eat the ice cream made Eric want to go buy a goddamn gallon of the strawberry sweetness.
Samson rested the spoon, upside down, in his mouth as he looked at Eric from under his thick lashes. He pulled the spoon free and smirked. “Want a taste?”
Eric nodded.
His mate waved the spoon. “First you have to get naked. Those are the rules, and you have to follow the rules.”
With one hand on the counter, Eric removed his socks. With a numb ass cheek and a twitching hand, stripping naked wasn’t as graceful as Eric would have liked. In fact, his hand twitched against the counter halfway through taking his pants and underwear off, causing Eric to spill to the floor.
He spun and landed on his back, thankfully without cracking his head.
Samson’s brows shot up as his jaw dropped. He pointed the spoon at Eric like it was a magic wand that would put Eric back on his feet. Which it didn’t. “Oh my fuck! Are you okay?” He dropped to his knees, setting the small container aside, but he kept the spoon in his hand. “Should I call the doctor? Did you break a hip?”
“I’m not the fucking old.” Eric groaned as he laid his head on the floor and stared up at the ceiling. So much for trying to appear suave. “I’m fine.” He grabbed Samson’s wrist when his mate tried to pull him to his feet. There was no way Samson could lift his weight. “Why don’t you sit on my waist and feed me that ice cream.”
One of Samson’s brows arched. “I should get you to bed. It’s obvious you’re still not fully recovered.”
“I’ll be as good as new when you sit on my dick.” Eric wrestled his pants and underwear the rest of the way off. “There, I followed the rules. I’m naked. Now feed me some damn ice cream.”
Samson took a bite, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “This is so good.”
The fucking tease. Now more than ever Eric wanted a taste. He stuck his finger into the container and then rubbed the strawberry ice cream across one of Samson’s nipples.
“That’s cold.” Samson shivered as his nipple hardened. “Why would you do that?”
“Sit on my waist and I’ll clean you right up.” Eric grabbed Samson’s hips and tugged. With a sigh, as if moving was an inconvenience, his mate slid a leg over him, straddling his waist.
Now that Eric had him where he wanted him, he pressed a hand against Samson’s back and pulled him forward, lashing his mate’s nipple with his tongue. Samson moaned and wiggled, his ass grinding against Eric’s hard cock. “You’re supposed to use a spoon.”
“Supposed to, but no rule says I can’t use my tongue.” He sucked the hard nub between his lips, biting down gently.
“By all means, use your tongue on any part of my body you want.”
Samson’s eyelids fluttered closed, and his right arm jerked as Eric lapped at his mate’s hard nipple. Then he moved to the other one, greedily sucking it in and tongue-punishing it like he had the first.
Was he mistaken, or was his butt starting to get sensation back? Sex seemed to be the cure. If that were the case, Eric would jerk off every four hours, or as needed, so his right hand would stop twitching.
Or better yet, he would jerk Samson off.
“Lube.” Samson opened his eyes. “Tell me where your lube is.”
“Bedroom.” Eric had to concentrate hard to remember where in his bedroom the tube was. “Nightstand.”
Samson patted his chest. “I’ll be right back. Don’t move.”
Eric was not about to lie on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as his butt tingled. When Samson exited the kitchen, Eric rolled to his side and pushed himself to his feet. Good, no dizziness. At least that had been cured with his shift.
He strode down the hallway and entered his bedroom to find Samson rummaging through his nightstand drawer. Eric really needed to clean that drawer out. It was basically his junk drawer. One of many. He was not an organized person.
“Ah ha!” Samson pulled the tube out and slammed the drawer shut. Then a frown puckered between his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you not to move?”
“I figured a soft bed would be better.” Eric jumped onto the bed, trying to be playful, but nearly bounced off the other side. He used his right hand to stop him
self, which had been a mistake. It twitched, and he dropped halfway off the mattress while Samson hooted with laughter.
“Smooth.” His mate climbed onto the bed and tapped Eric’s tingly cheek with the tube as Eric stared at the rug. He needed to vacuum. There were popcorn kernels scattered about from the night he’d eaten it while watching a movie in his bed.
Using his left hand, Eric pushed himself fully on the bed and flipped to his back. He was lying horizontal to the mattress, which made his legs dangle.
“Perfect,” Samson purred. “Or would you rather turn, because I don’t want you breaking a hip by nearly falling off the bed again.”
“You’re getting too much fun out of this.” Even so, Eric turned until his head was resting on a pillow. The new position was much better. He slapped his stomach. “Get your ass up here.”
Samson wiggled the bottle. “You have to stretch me first.”
Eric gave a low growl when Samson twisted until his feet were at Eric’s head and vice versa. It was one of Eric’s favorite positions and put Samson’s balls and ass right there in an amazing view.
“Lube.”
Samson tossed it back toward him as his lips touched the head of Eric’s cock. For a brief moment, he forgot to grab the tube. He forgot how to think or breathe, as well. Samson’s lips were magical, stuff gay dreams were made of, and as Samson sucked Eric’s cock down his throat, the tingling in his butt cheek grew as some of the feeling returned.
It was like having a thousand ants crawling over his ass, but Eric didn’t care. Not when the perfect lips he’d ever encountered were sucking him off.
His cock popped from between Samson’s lips. “In this position, the favor is usually returned.”
Eric slapped at the tube, grabbed it, then the twitch in his hand made him toss the bottle. With a growl of frustration, he tried again, this time curling his fingers around it. When this was over, he was shifting…again. He’d shift a thousand times if he had to in order to feel himself again.
He lubed his fingers, tossed the bottle aside, and drove two inside Samson’s ass as he mouthed his mate’s balls. Samson bucked and moaned around Eric’s cock, sending vibrating ripples through his cock.