Bears Behaving Badly

by MaryJanice Davidson, Camille Anthony, Melissa Schroeder

  “And I obey. Apparently multiple gunshot wounds wreak havoc on your system. Who knew?”

  David snorted, opened his bottle, and took a few healthy swigs. “Where’s Pat?”

  “He’ll be recovering from the stress of the outside world in the studio for a week or so. Which is going to cut into his organic gardening, but it’s not for me to tell him how to spend his time.”

  “I feel like you probably tell him how to spend his time all the time.”

  “Shut up, David.” She softened the rebuke with a kiss to the top of his head. “C’mon.”

  David got up at once, which she liked, and followed her past the kitchen and up the stairs

  (“Ow. Ow. Ow. Ow.”)

  to her room. It was exactly as she had left it the morning after she’d seen David’s bear, from the piled-up comforters and drawn shades to the… “Dammit.”

  “You should’ve stolen Jenn’s alarm clock from the guest room.”

  “But then I wouldn’t have been invited to partake of spatchcocked turkey. I’d use my phone, but…”

  He started to laugh. “How many phones did you smash before you went back to alarm clocks?”

  “Never mind.” She held out a hand, and he crossed the room to take it, then leaned down and kissed her. “How about a nice, long, sweet, drawn-out—”

  “Yes. Yes. Yes.”

  “—nap?”

  To his credit, David didn’t miss a beat. “Sounds great.”

  “You’re adorable.” She climbed into bed, and David snuggled up behind her. “Knew you were a big spoon kind of guy.”

  He chuckled, smoothed her hair, kissed the back of her neck. “Now you know all my secrets.”

  “Not hardly.” But it would be fun to discover them all. Or at least interesting. She wanted to find out all his favorite foods, too. Hopefully many of them dovetailed with hers. It would be too sad if he didn’t like chocolate panna cotta but did like Satan’s crudité: celery. The unpleasant thought followed her

  I will not have celery in this house!

  into sleep.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, or five hours (stupid blinds), she came awake in the gloom and stretched. She was warm and comfy, and the painkillers had been doing their job well enough that she decided to skip that evening’s dose and take it from there.

  There was a rumble behind her, and she felt David nuzzling the nape of her neck. “Hate being so goddamned groggy after a midday nap.”

  “A small price to pay.” She yawned. She wriggled until they were facing each other. “How do you feel?”

  “Better n’you, hon.”

  Oooh, I’m a hon. “That’s just ignorant. You’ve got no way of telling how I feel, and you certainly can’t make a comparative analysis.”

  “I stand corrected.” He smooched the tip of her nose, and when he started to pull back, she cupped the back of his neck and wriggled forward, pressing a deeper kiss to his sleep-softened mouth. He let out a pleased hum and lazily kissed her back. When they broke for air, he added, “Sorry ’bout the morning breath.”

  “Unless we slept over sixteen hours, it’s not morning breath. And you didn’t care at Jenn’s house.”

  “Nope.” He smiled at her. “Sure didn’t.”

  She slipped her hand under his T-shirt and ran her finger in a line parallel to the waistband of his jeans, and he shivered, his taut stomach pulling back as he involuntarily tried to escape the sensation. He made a noise, some noise…

  “Did you just giggle?”

  “Real men don’t giggle,” he said with a straight face, then sabotaged himself with another giggle.

  He made a decidedly masculine noise and caught her fingers. “Agh. Don’t tell anyone I’m ticklish.”

  “Your shameful disgusting secret is safe with… Yeek!” His fingers trailed higher, skimmed her belly, over her ribs, then hovered just beneath her breasts. “Don’t be alarmed, but I didn’t bother with a bra.”

  “That is alarming,” he agreed, and gently stroked the sensitive underside of her breasts. “Appreciate the warning… Oh, oh, oh God.”

  She’d unbuttoned his jeans and slipped her hand in, then paused. “Okay?”

  He hesitated, not moving away or buttoning up, but not encouraging her, either. “We shouldn’t.”

  “It’s not about ‘should,’ though. Can we?”

  “I think it’s too soon for you,” he said gently, moving his hands to the more neutral territory of her waist.

  “Not your call, David. Well, it is if… This isn’t more of your we-won’t-date nonsense, is it?”

  “No, it’s multiple-gunshot-wounds-less-than-a-week-ago nonsense.”

  “I’m a fast healer. Half the bandages are off already. Want to help me with the other half?”

  He laughed. “If you were trying to make that sound seductive, it only worked a little. ‘Oooh, now that we’ve put down a fresh dressing, you have to keep the wound clean and dry, baby…’”

  “Fine, you can help me with my shirt, pants, and panties, then. I’m keeping my socks on. Chilly in here.”

  “You’re half-polarwere but you won’t give up your socks? And, again, if you’re trying to make that sound seduc… Oh.” She was busily unbuttoning her blouse… Bless Nadia for bringing button-downs and easy-on, easy-off pants to the hospital. And her ‘Fuck off, I’m reading’ socks. “Oh, Christ, your breasts are beautiful.” His hands cupped, caressed. “Perfect.”

  “Wait until you see my dimples of Venus and extra-long pinkie toe.” She helped him ease his T-shirt over his head and dropped it on the floor. “Don’t worry. We’re going to have slow, careful, invalid sex.”

  “It’s crazy that I think that’s hot.”

  “My kind of crazy, though.”

  It seemed to take forever until they’d divested each other of too many clothes, and Annette knew she would have felt that way even if they were in perfect health. They weren’t, but David’s contusions and bruises were lighting up her neurons like the Fourth of July, working on her like a hormone shot. It was primitive

  (he got those protecting cubs and protecting me; he would’ve fought ’til he dropped)

  but undeniable. “Some of these are turning a gorgeous shade of orange-yellow,” she murmured, tracing the one over his hip.

  “I love that you think sickly yellowy-orange is attractive.” He dipped his head and kissed her throat, her collarbone, wiggled lower and licked her nipples until they were stiff, then rubbed his stubbled cheek across them.

  “Good God!” she gasped. “I had no idea nerves from my nipples were connected to my…other places.”

  “It’s good that we’re learning new things,” he told her solemnly, then giggled when she poked his stomach, which he cut off as he realized she was working her hand lower. His cock, jutting out from a thatch of neatly trimmed dark-brown pubic hair, was thick and hot, slapping his stomach and leaving wet dabs of pre-ejaculate on his skin, and filled her hand nicely. She squeezed gently and smiled when he groaned.

  “Ummm,” she said. “I like this.”

  “I’m so glad,” he managed. He seized her and kissed her, hard, but the moment she opened her mouth he gentled, licking into her mouth until she’d let go of his cock to cling to his wrists. “So. Fucking. Glad. But slow, okay, honey? Slow and steady wins the race.”

  “This isn’t a race, you adorable idiot. Although I’ll admit a worrying percentage of men seem to think so. It’s the only explanation for why so many of them finish first.”

  “Could we talk about something besides other guys?”

  “Birth control? Don’t need it. I’m not in season and I’m on the implant. STDs? We don’t get them. What else is there?”

  “Uh…”

  “Here.” She took his hand, folded the fingers back until there were only two, t
hen drew them down until the pads of his fingers were sliding over her clit and dipping down into the wetness below.

  “Oh Christ.”

  “Fuck slow and steady. I’m using profanity so you know I’m… Ohhhhhhh.” He was slipping and sliding his fingers over and around her clit, occasionally dipping lower, spreading the slick all over her tender flesh, then popping his fingers in his mouth to lick clean, then returning to the very center of her, smiling when she let out a quiet moan and moved her hips in an unconscious bid for more friction.

  “God, your scent,” he groaned. “Your taste.”

  “Yes. Oh…yes… What’s better for you? On your back?”

  “Annette, the last thing I give a shit about right now are my ribs.”

  “How fortunate that one of us does, in fact, give a shit. Let’s try this.” She sat up, flashed a wicked grin when he whined at the loss of contact, and carefully straddled him. “Okay?”

  He looked up at her, his pupils blown so wide there was only the thinnest ring of blue to be seen. “Honestly? We could be done right now and I’d consider myself damned lucky.”

  “Under any other circumstances I’d call that bluff.” She leaned forward, braced herself on an unbruised area of his chest, grasped his cock, and carefully began to lower herself onto it. The thick, plummy head slid into place like he was made for her, and for a few seconds, despite the aches that were starting up, she savored the long, delicious moment before the first good slide.

  “Annette…God…take your…time…but I might…die… No pressure…though…”

  She slowly eased herself onto him, her eyes slipping shut as that hot, hard warmth filled her, soothing one ache but awakening another. David was gripping her hips so hard she knew she’d have new bruises to add to the collection and did not give a ripe shit.

  She rose up again until only the head was inside and David was staying still, so still beneath her, watching her with wide eyes, and when she dropped, harder this time, he let out a quiet growl.

  “Oh, my,” she gasped, bracing her feet and beginning to rock back and forth. “That’s…quite…nice…”

  “Yes. Yesyesyes. God, you taste as good as you look, and you look fucking incredible. Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

  “A bit. Worth it,” she added when he started to shift his weight. “You stay put.” She swooped down, pressed a kiss to his nipple, then bit down lightly, feeling as well as hearing the groan that rumbled through his chest. “Just…like…that…”

  “Can I…move a bit?”

  “As long as your cock stays inside me, you can do cartwheels.” She paused. “Don’t actually do cartwheels.”

  He snorted, tightened his grip on her waist, planted his feet, and thrust up, hard. She let out a surprised shriek.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Again. Do that again.” She timed her rocking hips to his next thrust and they both groaned, and she laced his fingers with hers as they rocked together for the next blissful minute, and Annette could feel heat start coiling low in her belly. David forgot himself and arched to meet her, then let out a pained hiss and fell back.

  “Don’t hurt yourself!” she cried, and stopped moving.

  That earned her another hiss. “Shit. I’m okay, I just…The way my ribs are cracked, it actually would hurt less if we… Can we try something?”

  “Anything,” she replied promptly. “On my back? In your lap? Should we retire to our corners, like boxers, and try again after we hydrate? Or do you want me on all…” He involuntarily tensed, and she had her answer. “Ah. I see.” She smiled and leaned in. “Is that how you like it? You want me on all fours so you can take me? So all you have to do is glance down to watch yourself sliding in and out of me, all slick and sweet?”

  “Annette… Christ…”

  “So you can admire my ass while you’re fucking me? So you can watch the muscles in my back work while I’m moving to take your cock? That position is really intense for me, David. It makes me desperate. I’ll try to spread my legs for you even more than they already are, I’ll try so hard to open myself up for you as much as I can, to give you everything I can, and it won’t be enough, and I’ll get loud, and I’ll beg, David. You’ll be able to make me beg.”

  “Turn over,” he growled, his voice so deep it was almost unrecognizable. She obliged as fast as she could, because everything she had just said was the truth, and she wanted that thick, hot length inside her again, she wanted to feel him thrusting so hard it was like he was in her throat, she wanted to be mounted and invaded, and she didn’t care if it hurt, she wanted to see the fresh bruises the next morning and blush, but not for shame.

  She’d barely had time to get into position before he slammed into her so fast she had to grab for the headboard.

  He pulled out and for a long, agonizing second didn’t move. “Are you okay?”

  “More cock, please,” she managed, wriggling an invitation.

  “Jesus Christ,” he groaned, “your already-perfect ass is fucking heart-shaped.”

  “More cock, please. If you do it hard enough, I won’t have to touch myself at all. You’ll be big enough and I’ll be wet enough and I’ll come untouched.” This was a lie, but a lie told to good effect. She’d confess later.

  “I want you to touch yourself,” he ground out, thrusting again. “I want to see you making yourself feel good. When we’re both healed up, I’ll be able to stroke you all over while I’m fucking you like this, just like this, but until I can manage that, until I—I—I—ah—I want you to rub your clit and pinch your nipples and push back against me. I want you to make yourself whimper. I want you to lose your mind while you’re touching yourself, while you’re spreading yourself for my cock with your delectable ass in the air. Do it, Annette.”

  Oh Jesus. Was there anything hotter than a confident man who loved watching his partner get off? She had no idea, and it was getting hard to think. It was getting hard to do anything but want to mewl and plead. Things were starting to hurt, but literally everything else her body was doing—the warnings from her nervous system, breathing, cellular mitosis, all that irrelevancy—faded before the pleasure that was swamping her brain. She reached down, found her swollen clit, rubbed lightly and moaned. Oh, he’s going to make me… I never come this fast, but he…he…

  He groaned as she shivered against him. “More, Annette. I want to see your fingers slick and shiny. I want you to forget every fucking thing in the world except how good my cock feels.” She was whimpering, she knew, she was trying to speak, ask, beg, but all she could manage were little bitten-off noises as she took his cock, as he filled her and retreated and filled her again, as pleasure started to spread from her belly outward, as she met every thrust with desperate welcome. “Jesus Christ, the sounds you’re making… Are you close, honey? Because I’m very fucking close.”

  “Please…David…please…please…”

  “If you’re not, it’s okay. It might even be better that way. I’ll come and then flip you over, and then I’ll touch you everywhere you want, and everywhere I want, and then I’ll get my mouth on that sweet cunt of yours, which I have been fucking dreaming about for days, and I’ll lick and tease your clit while I’m fingering you, you’ll be so slippery with me, I’ll keep you spread open for me like a feast until you’re coming for me, Christ, I’ll make you feel so good, Annette, any way you’ll…let…me…”

  “D-David…I’m…” Now that sweet ache was spreading everywhere, she was so close to the point of no return, desperate to reach the edge so she could plunge over. “More. Talk more.”

  “And I haven’t even talked about what I’ll do to you with whipped cream and maple syrup.”

  And she was gone, she was flying, pleasure thrummed through her entire body while David let out a roar behind her. She could actually feel the temperature change as he filled her, his grip on her hips tightening to the
point of pain, then loosening as he collapsed against her. Thanks to the domino effect, she went down, too, flat on her belly and too sated to move.

  A good minute went by while the only sounds were their panting. Finally, she managed, “You okay? How are the ribs?”

  “I…have…ribs?”

  “Several.” She chuckled, reached out blindly, found his hand, squeezed. “My God, David. That was beyond incredible.”

  “Back atcha. Sorry. I know I should be saying something flowery and sensitive, but my brain’s off-line for the foreseeable future.”

  “How off-line can you be if you’re throwing around words like ‘foreseeable’? And you said plenty of flowery things. Excellent dirty talk, David. Just superb.”

  “Muh.”

  “David?”

  “Buh.”

  “Getting a little hard to breathe, David.”

  “Oh…sorry.”

  After some careful wriggling, they were on their backs, looking at the ceiling. “You’re staying over, right?”

  He groped, found her hand, clasped it, kissed her palm. “Absolutely.”

  “Excellent.” She paused, thinking. “Thank you for this week.”

  “Pretty sure my line is ‘No, thank you.’”

  “I’m not just talking about the sex. I mean all of it. You could’ve been hurt. Worse than you were, I mean. Or killed. But you never quit.”

  “Neither did you,” he pointed out.

  “I guess we’re both awfully heroic,” she said with faux modesty, and he laughed. She turned until she was on her side, studying his profile.

  He was still holding her hand as his breathing steadied, and he turned his head to smile at her. “I’m going to stay just like this for now. I’m afraid if I try to get on my side, I’ll puncture a lung. But ask me if I give a shit.”

  “I try not to ask questions I know the answers to.” Then she sobered. “I was so blind. You were right there. You were under my nose for two years, and I never saw. I never saw. Not your bravery or kindness or disturbingly strong sweet tooth…”

  “I’ve been crushing on you for over a year and never did anything about it. So, the opposite of brave.”