by BA Tortuga
“He’s also following in his father’s footsteps.” Sam’s mom, Mona, joined them, grabbing the pretzels out of Brock’s hand.
“Good afternoon, ma’am.”
“Hey, kiddo.”
Gus winked at him. “Sam’s dad took in every stray.”
“He did. He was amazing.” Mona flushed, her eyes shimmering a bit.
“I’m so sorry.” That was the appropriate response, he thought.
“He didn’t suffer. We’ve had time to heal a little.”
“Good.” Brock missed his momma like a lost tooth.
She reached over and patted his hand. “How about you? You come from a big pack?”
“I did. My folks are both gone, so I don’t go back.” He was a wanderer, like Gus said he had been.
“I’m sorry. You have a pack you can come to now, though.”
“Thank you.” He felt odd, hearing her say that. Part of him wanted to run. The other part wanted to wag and get scritches. He didn’t need another pack. He didn’t want to get all involved in the banality of normal life.
“I see that look in your eye,” Mona said. “Gus used to look that way. Like he would bolt.”
“Then I found my mate, and he fixed that shit up.”
“Mmm.” Brock had to find Ragbone with his eyes, that silly kit teasing the pups with his tail. Connor looked up, mismatched eyes alight, and his bobcat panted for him.
Something loosened in his chest, and he grinned. Such a sweet kitty.
Mona looked at him, a gentle smile playing on her lips.
He wanted to tell her to just quit it, but she was the momma. “Anyone want another beer?” He rose, grabbing the empties. Gus was a smart man who had a cooler right inside the back door.
“I’ll take one more, man.”
“I’m good,” Mona said. “I think I’m going to head over to see Lizzie, get her to make me a new apron. Bella caught mine on fire.”
“I’ll take a beer.” Pete appeared, kissing Mona’s cheek before plopping down in her vacated chair. “Please.”
“No problem.”
“Can I have one too, please?” That was the wee coyote, who perched on the steps.
“On it.” He pulled out four beers before returning to the porch. The bag of pretzels had disappeared with Mona, so Brock made another trip, bringing snacks out, enough to share with pups who were starting to tire.
Connor came to rest against his legs, heavy and hot, panting.
He put down a hand to stroke those fascinating ears. He loved the tufts at the ends, and Connor pushed into his touch, the rowls and yowls sweet on the air.
Sam leaped up on the porch too, rough purrs more like deep coughs. They were both amazing kits. Really.
Gus leaned down and stroked his cheeks against Sam’s, the caress as easy and natural as breathing.
Brock’s chest hitched a little. He wanted that, oddly enough. Not Sam. With Connor.
Connor nudged his knee, the deep rumbles filling the air like a song.
He vocalized as much as he could with his human voice, drawing a chuckle from Gus.
“Cats and dogs, man.”
“A match made in….” Pete trailed off, teasing terribly.
“Yeah, yeah.” Gus kicked his feet up and sat back. “It’s a good life.”
“It is.” That was Jason, who leaned back against the porch railing.
Brock scratched the back of Connor’s neck. “I believe it. I just have so much work left to do.”
There was a moment of quiet, and then Gus simply said, “We’ll always be here when you guys come back.”
Brock blinked at the assumption that Connor was going with him, not parting ways. The simple acceptance from Gus was also stunning.
He didn’t know what to say to that. He just didn’t.
So he settled for rubbing Connor’s back and watching the sun begin to set. That just seemed like the easiest thing to do.
Maybe someday this would be his life, but not now. Not yet.
12
Brock was fixin’ to get the hell out of Dodge, so Connor went downstairs to ask Sam to go get the Mustang and to put his box in the toolbox of Brock’s truck.
Connor’s silly fuzzy wolf thought he’d just sneak out. Like Connor was done with his happy ass.
No, Connor might know why he’d found Brock now, but he wasn’t willing to let go. Not when he knew they were supposed to be mates. Brock was kinda afraid of that sort of bond, clearly, but Connor felt… settled. Happy in his bones.
Sam sat at the vast kitchen table, drinking tea and doing a crossword puzzle. Bright green eyes flashed up at him, looked him over, and passed judgment, all in the same heartbeat. “You’re leaving us.”
“For a bit. I can’t let him go without a fight, Sam.” They would always return here, and Connor knew it. Brock simply needed to learn it was okay to have people.
“No. No, that leads to heartache. Never let him go.”
Connor winced and went to his friend, knelt before him and held on. Sam and Gus had gone through a lot, but they were stronger for it. Platitudes like that could get his ass kicked with Sam.
So he went for pure love. It seemed to be the right answer, most times.
Sam hugged him tight, holding on and breathing with him. “I do love you, you giant dork.”
“I know. I love you too. Will you go get my Mustang for me?” He adored that silly car.
“Hell, yes. I’ll get someone to come with us to drive Gus’s truck on the return trip, and we’ll have a ball in your car.” Sam’s grin went wide, evil.
“You be nice to her. She’s my baby.”
“Uh-huh. I won’t let Gus drive.”
He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Thank you. From the bottom of my heart.”
Sam laughed out loud. “Are you going to try to sneak past the kids?”
“I’ll take my cues from Brock, I guess. He’s intending to make an escape.”
“Ah.” Sam nodded sagely. “Well, I’ll help keep an eye out.”
Sam was good to him. Connor didn’t tell his adopted brother he would know when Brock was leaving. He didn’t want to have to explain the connection he felt. Heck, Sam was mated; Connor probably didn’t have to explain a damn thing.
“I’m going to put my things in the truck. Here are the keys. I love you.” He headed outside, completely unsurprised to see Brock loading the back. “Oh, perfect timing, perfect body.”
Connor locked his stuff in the toolbox.
Brock raised his eyebrows, dark eyes locked on Connor. “Whatcha doin’, babe?”
“Putting my shit in the truck. You ready to go?” He opened the passenger side door.
“What makes you think I’m taking you?” Brock climbed into the driver’s seat, though, didn’t he?
“I know you are. I’m in the truck. Let’s go.”
“You are maddening, you know that, right? I can’t drop you off at your car. We’re gonna have to be up on Grand Mesa, not Crested Butte.”
“Sam is going to get her, no worries. What’s on Grand Mesa? Is it going to be fun?”
“Bears. They think there’s an operation there that’s taking them for their body parts for illegal trade.”
“That’s awful.” Connor was sure that he could find a way to help.
“Yeah. They think our old buddy Joe from Crested Butte might be involved somehow. If he is, he has his fingers in a lot of pies.”
He was sure that was supposed to make sense, and he nodded like it did. He would hold on and wait for the world to show him how to help.
Brock snorted. “Get some sleep, Ragbone. This time I intend to make you drive part of the way. And stop for food.”
“I’ll keep you company. Read to you. Tell you stories.”
“Just don’t sing.”
“I’m trying to decide if I’m insulted,” Connor said.
Brock chuckled, getting them moving. Sam watched them from the porch, and they both lifted a hand to wave. “There’s a
book or two on the floorboard in the backseat. I like the idea of you reading to me.”
“See? You’re already finding a purpose for me.”
“Mmm. Only because blowjobs while I’m driving are dangerous.” Brock winked over at him, laughing with him.
“We’ll have to stop, then. Periodically.” Just for shits and giggles.
“There has to be a giant ball of string or the world’s biggest catnip patch….”
“Ha.” He pinched Brock’s thigh. “Be nice, Fuzzy.”
“I am. I’m taking you with me.”
“Of course you are.” He’d found Brock, hadn’t he? And no one else had claimed the man. This one was his. All his. Maybe they could rent a little cabin on this Grand Mesa after the bear thing was over, really go nuts on each other.
If they intended to stay with Gus and Sam eventually, maybe they would make a cabin of their own. Or a Silver Stream. That would be nice. Kitty in a can.
“What?” Brock glanced over, frowning a little. “Did you want me to stop for tuna before we get on the Interstate?”
“No. I have banana bread from the kitchen.”
“Yum.” Brock had shown a real appreciation for Mona’s breads. “I got some waters and some jerky.”
He laughed about the jerky, because they’d probably had enough of that to last them a lifetime on the previous road trip.
“I have a thermos of coffee that will last until the first Starbucks.” He knew the way to Brock’s heart.
“Oh, my hero. I didn’t want to wake everyone making coffee. Too many good-byes.”
“Coward.”
“Yep. Those kids even try to tear up in my presence, and I panic.” They hit the state highway, and Brock made a satisfied noise. “I hope you like Stephen King.”
“I do. Tell me it’s not It or The Stand. Those are heavy.”
“Salem’s Lot. There’s also a Dean Koontz, but I don’t remember which one.” Brock was focused on the road, clearly wanting to make good time.
“I like vampires okay. Biting is near and dear to my pea-pickin’ heart.” He dug around in the mess, laughing at the dog-eared books and the random maps. “Lord, Fuzzy. You are not the neatest pup that ever walked the damn earth.”
“Yeah, yeah. No comments from the peanut gallery.” Brock tickled his ribs quickly.
“You’re filthy. A dog. I’m going to have to teach you how to take care of your truck.”
“What? I usually travel alone, and you went all catatonic on me last time.” Brock was laughing, though.
“I was sleepy. Not enough coffee.”
“You were deep inside yourself,” Brock intoned.
“I was looking.” He had to do that sometimes, let the world talk to him.
Brock glanced at him when he settled back into the front seat. “Do you do that a lot, or was that an extreme case?”
“This was an emergency. Most of the time, it’s easy as pie.”
“Good. I don’t want to have to worry about you dropping off into a coma when you’re driving.” The interstate appeared, along with all the closest gas stations to Gus and Sam. “Need to stop?”
“Not yet. When we find a Starbucks, holler.”
“I’ll pull off for sure.” Brock winked. Yeah. Addict.
Connor put his mind on bears, his voice on vampires, and his heart on the fact that he was on the road with his mate.
It was a good morning. A very good morning.
13
Brock stopped in Grand Junction for the night. Nine hours on the road was plenty, and he was getting gritty around the eyes. They would have to camp up at Grand Mesa, so they might as well stop at the biggest town anywhere nearby and provision. The next biggest town in either direction you could use to go over the mesa was Delta, and it just didn’t have a decent hotel or a big enough store for all they might need.
“Holiday Inn Express, Ragbone? There’s restaurants and shit.” He liked the little hotel row with all of the options. “There used to be a real decent Chinese buffet.”
“Works for me. Hotels are always entertaining. You never know what your options are.”
“True enough.” Some places had pancake machines. Those were endlessly hilarious. “We’ll check in and find out where to eat.”
“Okay. Gus gave me money. Do you need it?”
“Not right now, honey.” If they got separated for whatever reason, Ragbone would need some cash. Brock’s job was dangerous. Anything could happen.
“Okay. Holler if you do.” Connor had the most interesting position on money of anyone he’d ever met.
“I will.” He got paid in money. He thought most of the time Connor got paid in goods. Favors. It was a strange system, even for a cat.
Of course, there was precious little about his cat that landed on the normal scale.
He ran in at the hotel to rent a room, leaving the engine running to get some air in there. Then he came back to park near the closest entrance to their room.
Connor grabbed bags and followed him to the first floor, the clean king room with a nice-sized bathroom. It wasn’t fancy, but it was totally workable.
“Test the bed with me?” Brock asked. They grinned at each other, Connor dropping the bags on the floor. Together they leaped on the bed, landing in a tangle of arms and legs.
They nuzzled, teeth testing skin before they melted together, just dozing.
Food could wait. This was far better. Just what they needed after a long day in the car.
He woke about an hour and a half later to a knock on the door and the scent of pizza. Brock blinked. Yum. He looked about for Connor, who wasn’t next to him.
“Thank you! Have a good day.” Three boxes of pizza, a couple of bags, and a six-pack of Cokes appeared like magic.
“Oh.” He moaned happily. “Local pizza joint?”
“Yessir. Just down the way. Artichoke dip, meatball sliders, meat and meat and supreme.”
“I may keep you.” He patted the bed.
“I have no doubt.” Connor sat beside him. “Also, I got cannoli. I was craving cheese goo.”
“Bottomless pit.”
“You know it, Fuzzy.”
He loved that. Connor’s enthusiasm was impossible to resist. They fell to the food in what was becoming their tradition. Hotel beds and red sauce.
Connor licked cheese off his belly, fed him bites of meat and bread. He laughed and watched Connor pop whole sliders into his mouth, growling.
Watching Connor eat was quickly becoming Brock’s favorite job.
When Connor began fellating the cannoli, Brock damned near lost it.
From now on, every single meal would end with cannoli. Brock stared, his heart pounding, his tongue practically hanging out of his mouth.
Connor met his eyes. “You okay?”
Then he licked again.
“I’m dying here.”
“Did you want one?” Connor offered Brock a cannoli.
“No, I want you to eat every single one.”
Connor’s face lit up. “And then I get to eat you?”
“You do. Jesus, Ragbone, you’re making me crazy.” He indicated his hard cock, which ached from watching Connor lick and suck and moan.
“Good.” Connor leaned down and licked him, base to tip.
“Fuck.” Connor’s tongue was cold. So good.
“Mmm. Later. I want this now.” And then Connor sank down over his prick, making his eyes cross.
Connor did love to suck, and God knew, Brock loved it too. That mouth made him dream, made him want crazy things. And when Connor slid his hands under his ass and pulled him in, he let himself go, let himself fuck Connor’s lips.
They rocked together, Connor exploring his ass, his balls. He went with it, open and easy, his hips and thighs flexing hard. The rough tongue lashed at him, threatening to make him scream. He could live on this alone, he would bet, but Connor always made him want more.
“Gonna fuck you so good, Kit. Gonna make you yowl and beg.” The
words poured out of him, and Connor’s nails dug into his ass, marking him. “Harder, honey. I need more.”
He wasn’t sure what he needed right now, but Connor was making a damned fine showing, and when one finger pressed inside him and pegged him deep, he shot. He bit back his shout, deciding then and there, they were getting their damned cabin when the job was done and yowling and howling all they wanted.
He wanted to hear his Connor scream.
Connor licked him dry, lapping at the tip of his cock, rasping at him.
Brock shuddered, so sensitive it almost hurt. Now he could return the favor. He muscled up so he could flip Connor to his back. “My turn to taste you now.”
“Is it?” Connor looked like, well, like the cat that had got the cream.
“It is. I want everything.” He lifted Connor’s hips, bending to lick the long cock. Not as thick as his, but well-shaped and rising high and proud.
“That can be arranged. Please.”
“I got you, Ragbone.” He licked a line up the whole length, balls to tip. Then he slid his lips over the head and worked his way down.
His nose filled with that amazing scent, flooded with the essence of Connor. Such deep, heavy musk, and all the need in the world. Perfect cat.
Connor began to sing for him—rich, low yowls that made him want to suck harder, demand more. He lifted the heavy, golden-fuzzed balls beneath and pushed them up, rubbing with his palm. Connor rocked down, taking what he needed and riding Brock’s touch before bucking up and sliding along his tongue.
He sucked hard, bringing Connor to the back of his throat so he could swallow.
“Brock! Soon.” A string of expletives filled the air, and Connor tugged at his shoulders and hair.
Soon. Now. God, yes. He closed his eyes and drew on Connor’s cock, wanting to taste, needing it, and when he got it, Connor tasted like home.
Brock licked Connor clean, savoring every drop of what Connor gave him. He had no idea how many other chances like this he would have.
“As many as you’ll take.”
“Hush.” They had this mind-meld thing starting, and that was a little scary. Brock kissed the tip of Connor’s cock before sliding up to hold the man close. Both of his hungers sated, he was ready for more napping.