by JC Holly
Surprising Tom entirely, Grant kissed him hard on the mouth, his tongue slipping inside and lapping at his own cum. Tom returned the kiss just as forcefully, then swallowed what cum remained and stepped back.
Grant watched him for a moment, then smiled wide. “That was incredible.”
Tom nodded, panting. Now that it was over, his brain began to take control once more, filling his head with doubt and worry.
“I–I don’t know what got into me,” he said.
Grant grinned. “Lust, mostly. You sure that was your first time?”
Tom nodded, and headed to the sofa to grab a tissue to clean his face. “I just did what I like to get. Y’know, from when I’ve had blowjobs in the past.”
“That explains it.” Grant moved to the sofa, not bothering to put his cock away. “I think you’re a keeper.”
Tom flushed red and made an excuse, then disappeared into the bathroom to wash. A keeper? As in, doing it again? And dating? That would mean letting other people know he was gay.
He didn’t know how he felt about that.
Chapter Four
Grant settled back in his desk chair and stared at the monitor in front of him. The commissioned piece of artwork he’d been working on all day wasn’t even close to complete. With a sigh he pushed the digital drawing tablet aside and thumped his feet onto the desk.
He’d been back from the cabin for nearly a week, and still all he could think about was Tom, the man who got away.
Though neither had said it, things had got awkward after their “moment of abandon.” Tom had headed to the bathroom, saying he needed to freshen up, and had stayed in there for a little too long. Grant had left him to it, though. He remembered his own first times with a man, and could remember some of the mixed feelings.
Eventually Tom had reappeared, and Grant let him act like nothing had happened, and instead focused on the work at hand. It had taken a few more hours of hard shoveling, but eventually they once again broke through to daylight, and this time there was no cave-in. Within another hour, they were both packed and headed down the hill.
While Tom had said he’d lost his interest in staying at the cabin, Grant had had every intention to head back up once he was sure Tom had made it down safely. Things hadn’t worked out that way, though, as the pair had met a rescue crew halfway back to the road, who had been sent by the cabin company to dig them out. They were very apologetic about the mix up, but had said they were all booked up, and that the cabin they had just left couldn’t be used again until everything was cleaned up. Grant had just nodded along in tired resignation, while Tom had discussed refunds and managed to get them both a lift down the track on the back of a pair of skidoos.
That was a week ago, and Grant hadn’t thought of much else since.
“Fuck it.” He stood and stretched. “The supermarket can wait for its damn flyer. I need a drink.”
It was still early in the afternoon, which meant most places he liked weren’t even open, but there were still a couple of decent places a little further out of town. He needed to grab some supplies, too, judging by the barrenness of his cupboards, so he decided to kill two birds with one stone, and headed upstairs to change.
The jeans he pulled on were the ones he’d worn in the cabin, and his cock twitched at the memory. For a newbie, Tom had quite the mouth on him. Not for the first time, Grant regretted not giving the man his number. Not that he’d call it, probably. Still, a chance is better than no chance at all.
Grant pulled on a light blue shirt and headed out to the car, scrolling through the numbers on his phone until he reached that of his best friend. Grant hit dial, and the call picked up on the first ring.
“Hello?” came a muttered reply.
Grant laughed and leaned against his car while he pulled the key from his pocket. “Wake up you lazy bastard, and meet me at The Arms in two hours.”
“Grant?”
“Who else? Tough night?”
There was a fit of coughing on the line, followed by a few curses, then a strong London accent. “Yeah, only got to bed a few hours ago, didn’t I.” A yawn. “Fuck it, see you there anyway. You can tell me about the cabin.”
Grant hung up and climbed into his car. The cabin. Oh, he had a story about that, all right.
* * * *
Tom wrestled his poorly maintained shopping cart through the aisles of his local supermarket, missing half the things he’d meant to buy, even with the list he’d painstakingly written. Since returning home from his aborted vacation, he’d been plunged back into the stress he’d tried to get away from, and it had left him with far too much on his mind.
The intention had been to stay at the cabin for a week or so, then come back down once the dust around his situation had settled. Instead he returned home after only a day to find his ex waiting on the lawn, standing beside the man she’d been fucking, and demanding access to the house to collect the things Tom had missed. He hadn’t missed a thing, he knew that for certain, so he told them to go away or he’d call the cops.
In the days since then he’d been bombarded by phone calls from her and her new man, mixing threats with abuse, claiming that when he’d thrown her crap onto the lawn, the snow had got in, and that now Tom owed them money for replacements and dry-cleaning. When that hadn’t worked, they shifted to the fact that she had been paying part of the mortgage, and that the home belonged to her, too.
The fact of the matter was that she’d cheated on him with a useless sack of shit with a crummy apartment, and they wanted to squeeze everything out of Tom that they could. And Tom wasn’t having any of it.
That said, it had gotten to the point that he dreaded returning home, worried that one or both would be waiting, and this time they wouldn’t just assault him verbally.
He thought back to the first year of his relationship with Sarah, and couldn’t connect the two people. She’d been a completely different person.
Hadn’t she?
The more he thought about it, the less he was sure. Perhaps he’d just gone along with the flow instead, nodding and smiling, because it was easier than admitting to himself that the whole damn relationship was a sham.
If he’d been in any doubt of that, the cabin should have proved otherwise. Not only had he found himself attracted to Grant, but he’d dropped to his knees and blown the man. Straight men didn’t do that.
“Hey!”
He glanced up from his thoughts to find he’d very nearly run a guy over with his cart. “Sorry.”
The man glared, his fist clenched. “Watch where you’re fucking going, prick.”
Tom babbled another apology, hoping that his latest worry would just walk away.
A voice came from behind him. “Tom?”
Tom turned to find Grant standing there, a basket on one arm and a smile on his face. The smile dropped as he regarded the other man.
“There a problem here?”
The man looked at Grant, then at Tom, then shook his head and walked away without a word.
“I bumped into him,” Tom said, by way of explanation.
Grant nodded. “No reason for him to be an asshole.”
“Story of my life.”
The two shared a look, and Tom glanced down first, feeling his cheeks begin to burn.
“So, how have you been?” Grant asked, as he picked some tins from a shelf. “You look good, if stressed.”
“That about covers it.” Tom licked his dry lips. “You, uh, you look good, too.”
Grant grinned and flexed an arm. “All that shoveling did wonders for my definition.”
Tom laughed, despite his nerves. “Haven’t seen you in here before.”
Grant told him that he didn’t usually come this far out, that he lived on the other side of town, but was meeting a friend. Tom nodded and smiled, and kept the conversation light. He couldn’t handle much else at that moment, not with the crap with his ex still ongoing. If she got wind of him messing around with a guy, she’d only use it as
more ammo for her arsenal.
After discussing the winter weather a little, and joking about it still being nothing compared to where they had been, Grant pulled a card from his pocket and handed it to Tom.
“The ball’s in your court,” the man said, holding his hands up. “If you want to call me some time, even if it’s just to chat, then great. If not, well, that’s up to you.”
Tom nodded and glanced at the print. “Graphic artist?”
Grant smiled. “Keeps me in whiskey and steaks.”
They made their excuses and parted ways. As Tom walked away, he risked a look over his shoulder, and turned back fast when he found Grant was doing the same thing. Careful of other shoppers this time, he sped off around the corner and down another aisle, then pulled out the card once more. Would he call him? Could he call him? With a sigh he put the card away and headed to the checkout.
* * * *
Snow was waiting in the pub, in his favorite spot. As Grant stepped into the bar, the man turned to face him and raised his drink.
“There you are,” Snow called across the room, in his thick Cockney accent. “Starting to think you’d forgotten about me.”
Grant smirked and headed to the bar to grab a beer, then joined his friend in their booth near the back of the premises. It was a great spot. Far away from the old jukebox, and with both entrances in sight, in case anything untoward happened.
Grant shook the snow from his hair as he settle into the seat, and Snow put a hand over his glass.
“Careful, mate.”
Grant rolled his eyes. “God forbid some water got into your vodka.”
Snow sniggered, then sipped his drink. “Hate this time of the year. Messy as hell, and everyone makes jokes about my name.”
“You picked it.”
“It was picked for me.” The man ran a hand through his shocking white hair. “Though I never stopped people from using it, I s’pose.”
Snow was a shifter like Grant, though older by a few decades. Nobody knew how his hair had turned white, and any attempts at finding out from Snow resulted only in a grin and a shake of his head. He liked to keep the mystery, it seemed.
“So, cabin,” Snow said. “Heard you were only up there for a few hours before you had to dig yourself back out.”
Grant gave him the whole story, starting with meeting Tom and ending with their awkward small talk at the supermarket a half hour ago. As expected, Snow focused on what he deemed to be the most important part.
“So how was the blowjob?”
“Good. Very good, in fact.”
“Better hope he calls, then.”
Grant smirked. “There’s more to a relationship than oral sex, Snow.”
“O’ course there is. Thing is, though, it’s a lot harder to perform well with someone you’re not into. I know if I’ve got a face full of cock, I work harder if I’m enjoying it.”
“Always so eloquent.”
Snow shrugged. “You know it’s true, though.”
Grant couldn’t disagree. Even so, he’d need more time with Tom to make any decisions.
“He’s nervous as hell, though,” he said, before taking a healthy sip of beer. “First time with a guy.”
Snow raised an eyebrow. “First time ever? You didn’t say that before. Think you’ll see him again?”
“I hope so. He seems to be a nice guy.” Grant finished his beer. “Anyway, enough of that. Any pack gossip?”
Snow was the go-to guy for pack news. He was friendly with every member, something that was easier said than done, and heard things that nobody else did. He also knew a few people in The Brooks, the rival pack that operated a little further out of town.
“Nothing much, to be honest,” Snow said. “The two alphas have been talking about trading some territory, so everyone’s on best behavior until it’s dealt with.”
Trading territory? That was a pretty rare occurrence in the last decade or so. For the most part, all areas had been portioned out to one or the other pack, and there were few complaints. Things weren’t set in stone, of course. If a pack alpha moved house into another’s territory, then things were adjusted to suit where possible, but it still wasn’t something that happened often.
“Anything closer to home?”
The white-haired man glanced around the pub, then leaned close. Grant did the same, and Snow spoke so quietly that even a shifter would have had to have been within ten feet to hear.
“There’s a rumor going round that someone in The Brooks is looking to challenge the alpha. No names, but I’ve heard it often enough, and from enough people, that it’s at least plausible.”
Grant frowned. “Who the hell would be dumb enough?”
Snow straightened, shrugging as he did. “That’s what makes it interesting,” he said, with a grin. “’Sides, thinking about doing it and actually doing it are two very different things. Probably turn into nothing.”
“I guess.”
Grant made his excuses a little later and headed back out into the cold—not that he felt much of it—and turned toward home. The whole walk back, though, he thought about what Snow had said. Pack infighting was pretty common, even in Grant’s own pack, but when someone challenged an alpha it could cause a hell of a lot of problems, and not just for the pack involved.
For the time being he tried to push it to the back of his mind, and focus on the here and now. He’d ask around in the pack meeting that night, and see what others had heard, but like Snow said, it would probably fizzle out before it began.
Chapter Five
Tom lay on the sofa with an erection hard enough to break rocks on.
His idea of an early night to relax and get his head straight hadn’t worked. As soon as he’d settled under the covers, he became aware of two things: That he was lying in the bed that his girlfriend had used to fuck another man, and that he himself was lying in there alone. The first thought had driven him to the sofa, and the second had made him think about the business card Grant had given him.
One phone call would be all it took, he was certain. One call, and Grant would have taken all his stresses away. For a while, anyway.
That thought brought another with it. Anal sex. Apart from one misjudged evening with an ex in his late teens, he’d never tried anything involving his ass other than occasionally slipping a finger inside while he jerked off. He’d seen Grant’s cock—hell, he’d done more than look at it—and it was a darn sight longer and thicker than a finger.
Would it hurt? Was it supposed to hurt? He’d spent an unhealthy amount of time on gay forums back in his twenties, and he remembered what people had said, but it hadn’t helped in the least. Some said it hurt, some said it didn’t. Some said that a little pain was good, and yet others said if there was any pain the top didn’t know what they were doing.
And what about lube? Too much, not enough, this kind, that kind…
Even with all his worries about the logistics, the thought of Grant standing over him with his cock deep inside Tom’s hole was enough to make him shiver in excitement.
“Grant would know what he was doing,” he said to himself, his gaze on the phone that lay on the coffee table. “One call…”
He shook his head and flipped the television back on to distract himself, focusing on the news headlines and trying to care about some politician or other who had been caught embezzling, and the latest celebrity to fall out of a bar at two in the morning. For a while he thought it was working, until he glanced down to find he was still tenting the blanket he’d brought out from the bedroom.
With a sigh he pulled the cover away and slid his pants down over his ass, then took a hold of his cock. As he began to stroke his shaft, he closed his eyes and pictured the time he’d watched Grant in the cabin, staring out of the window.
If he had his time back, would he have embraced it if he knew what he now knew? Would he have let the man walk over to him, then take hold of him and pull him close? In his fantasies he did, and he certainly didn�
��t stop there. He kissed him hard, then pulled off his boxers so that their cocks rubbed together, each hardening against the other. Then with one hand he stroked the man’s shaft as he led him into the bedroom. He’d lie down, and Grant would find a lube bottle and…and…
Tom’s stomach muscles clenched as he came hard, splattering warm cum onto his bare chest. He lay back and let out a long breath, then eyed the business card once more.
He picked up the card with Grant’s number and tapped the corner with his finger. Maybe a date first. That wouldn’t be so bad. He could ease into things, then, and see where it took him.
He picked up the phone and dialed. Grant wasn’t answering, though, and for a moment Tom worried that he was being screened. He gave you the number, dummy. He probably had an early night too, or something. A voicemail message played, and Grant’s voice had its usual effect. After a steadying breath, Tom left a quick message and his phone number, then hung up and dropped the phone like it was a hot coal.
He’d done it. There was no taking it back. Unless Grant had changed his mind, as soon as he got the message, he’d call. Who knew where that would lead?
* * * *
Grant pounded at the ground with all four paws as he dodged through the trees that lay between him and his pack’s meeting place in the hills. They had several spots but this one was his favorite, if only because he could head up there shifted with no chance of being spotted on the way by anything other than wildlife.
On the way up he caught the scent of another wolf, and moments later a familiar form appeared at his side, easily keeping pace. Grant nudged the wolf with his shoulder, and the wolf barked in response, then increased their speed. Grant followed suit and it soon became a race between the pair, each striving to beat the other to the finish line.
Grant managed to pound out a slight lead, but it cost him all his energy, and moments later the second wolf shot past, only slowing once they reached the clearing that housed the pack’s cabin. He would have congratulated his opponent, but even if he was capable of speech at that moment, all he could do was pant heavily and follow.
