Tropical Depression

by BA Tortuga

  Galen took the cup of coffee he offered and handed him a plate of singed pancakes and burnt bacon. Those dark-dark eyes dared him to say a word.

  Good thing Goob liked crispy.

  He read the back of the syrup bottle, twice. Man, corn was in everything.

  The smacking of a plate on the table made him jump, and Len sat down, stabbing at the food. Those eyes kept landing on him, and Len kept muttering, but he couldn’t make out about what. He kinda wished he could. Kinda didn’t.

  After choking down about half, he took a deep breath. “Thanks for breakfast.” Morning, Galen. What the fuck is your problem?

  “Oh, no problem, darlin’. I just about burned the damned kitchen down.”

  Okay, wait. Hadn’t they had a good night last night? Hadn’t they come and come? What, had Galen slept wrong and bent his dick?

  Christ, it was too fucking early to try to figure shit out. With his fucking luck, he’d pretended to dance in his sleep and offended Galen all over. “I’ll do dishes.”

  “Damn it, Shane. Who the fuck was that guy?” It snapped out like Vic’s jaws closing on a chicken, all teeth and whomp.

  Shit. Like he remembered the dude’s name now. “Some friend of Wade’s.”

  “You know how I feel about other guys touching you.”

  Man, he thought they’d covered that last night. And passed it. Buried it. Something.

  “I said I was sorry last night.” He’d been bored, more than anything, tired of watching all the guys dancing and playing and laughing and shit.

  “You coulda called me.” Len was scowling at him, something creeping into that expression. Something like hurt.

  “You said you were busy.” Fuck, he should go back to work. He was good at that. “I said I won’t do it again.”

  “It just. I don’t like it, darlin’.” Len always knew when he was being unreasonable, and damned if Galen didn’t sigh and rub one hand over his head. “Sorry. You want me to try again with the pancakes?”

  “No. I’m cool.” He stood up and started the water for dishes, wishing he’d put on a shirt and shit. Lord, it was only ten.

  “Shane….” Galen slid right up behind him, hands on his bare waist. “I said I was sorry. I know I’m being an ass. I hate the idea of me not giving you what you need.”

  “I just wanted to fucking dance, man. I was having a good time.”

  Eyes flashing and lips pressing together, Galen nodded. “Yeah. Your idea of fun and mine are different.”

  Oh, now. That was just…. Goddamn.

  “I. Yeah. I guess.” Shane shrugged, headed for the bedroom. Okay. Shower. Clothes.

  “Shane….” Len followed him, poking at it like a sore tooth. “I just. Damn it, after what happened with that one night and the Mickey they slipped you. And I walked in, and you were with that guy, and I wanted to beat him to the floor.”

  “You act like I was blowing him or something.” Shane turned around, meeting Galen’s eyes, and finally asked the thing he’d been wondering about since that last big fight after Galen’d so much as called him a slut at the bar. “You really think I’d do that to you? Really?”

  “No.” The answer was immediate and gratifying. “I’m a jealous bastard, Shane. You know damned well I used to live in the kind of circles people would do that in. It’s not you I don’t trust.”

  “Then who? ’Cause it seems to me that either you think I’m stupid and don’t know how to say no, loose enough not to want to say no, or—” Shit, what was a guy who couldn’t say no? “—a… victim or something.”

  Len stared at him a minute, while Goob wandered to his bowl and then back to Shane’s feet to drool some. Then Galen shrugged. “I don’t think you’re stupid or loose, Shane. Go on, take a shower or whatever.”

  Len turned on his heel and headed back to the kitchen, whistling for the dog.

  Not stupid or loose, but not enough to hold his own, it looked like.

  Shane grabbed a towel and a pair of jeans. By ten thirty, he was heading back out to the bar to do something he was good at.

  GALEN LOOKED at the phone that hadn’t turned out to be near as broke as he’d thought, trying to decide whether he wanted to toss it across the room and really crack it or answer it. The caller ID told him it wasn’t Shane, so he tossed it, grunting as it landed on the couch and not against the wall.

  Goob trotted after him when he went to get a beer, then struggled across the yard with him when he went to open the bait shop for a bit. He hadn’t done that in too long, he figured, if Goob was sneezing that way at the dust.

  He was acting like an ass, and he knew it. He hated it when Shane went off like that too, all bruised and tight-looking.

  Cleaning the counters and sweeping the floors used up some of his pent-up grumpy, and Galen finally sighed, whistling at Goob, who came running, a rubber frog dangling from his mouth.

  “You think we ought to go get Shane a pizza, babe? Huh?” He scritched those long ears and watched Goober dance. That silly mutt was a go-puppy.

  They got in his truck and headed into town. His cell was still plugged into the lighter, so he grabbed it up, called Roma’s, and ordered Shane’s favorite Hawaiian pizza and a deep dish supreme for the bar. By the time he crossed the bridge into town, it was ready, and he sailed into the bar bearing food and puppy, which ought to go a long way toward Shane forgiving him.

  The bar was damn near empty, the boys at the bar hooting when they saw Goob. “Galen! Dude! You here for the boss? He’s upstairs working on the books and shit.”

  “Yeah. Here. Gimme a slice of the deep dish, and I’ll leave the rest.” He pulled out a piece, and a longneck with a lid, and headed upstairs, smiling all around.

  Goob galumphed up the stairs, ears flopping madly, the low howl filling the air when the hound found the office door closed.

  “Goob? Goober, is that you?” The door opened, Shane’s face appearing.

  Goober slobbered all over Shane’s feet, and Galen held up the box of thin crust with pineapple and ham. “Hey, darlin’.”

  “Hey. Come on in.” Shane held the door open, nodded to him once, the look unsure, uncomfortable. “Smells good.”

  “S’your favorite. I got the guys a deep dish….” Damn him and his fucking pride. Galen moved in, bent to kiss Shane hello. “Sorry, darlin’. I really am.”

  Shane kissed him back, fingers squeezing his wrist once. “’S cool, man. I should’ve known better.”

  “No. Not your fault, okay? A man should be able to have a fuckin’ dance.” Okay, see him? He could be all progressive and shit. He could. “I just. I get all caveman. Wanna eat?”

  “Sure.” Shane swept the magazines and newspapers off the low table by the little office couch. “I’ll go down and get some napkins and stuff.”

  “What? I brought plates. Come on, darlin’. Sit with me. Look at your dog. He brought you a present.” That silly frog was still in Goob’s mouth.

  Shane looked. Then that stiff, cold look disappeared, Shane’s laugh ringing out. “Oh, look at you and your nasty slimy frog. Lord.” Shane plopped down beside him, hooting as Goob wagged and chewed.

  “He wanted to bring it so bad. Fought me when I tried to take it away.” Galen set the pizza out, got it on plates, gave Shane a beer….

  “He ate the squeaker out of it. He’ll be sad when it’s chewed to nothing.” Shane’s thigh rubbed against his, throat working as the beer went down.

  “We’ll have to get him something else. Maybe a flamingo.” The beer was history. Maybe they had some iced tea in Shane’s little fridge. “You get lots done?”

  “Yeah. I did paperwork stuff. Nothing exciting. You?” Shane groaned over the pizza.

  “I cleaned up the bait shop a little.” That had been kinda fun. “And I bought pizza.”

  “It’s good pizza.” Shane stole a bit of pepperoni off Galen’s slice.

  “It is.” The sauce had a nice spicy aftertaste. “Roma’s is good.”

  “I don’t
like fighting with you.”

  He glanced over, looking at Shane’s kinda bewildered expression. “I know, darlin’. I don’t like fighting with you either. I just have a protective bone. And it’s not because I think you can’t take care of yourself, okay?”

  “Okay. I’m not going to cheat on you, Len. I don’t want anybody like that but you.”

  “Good.” He cupped Shane’s cheek so he could bend and kiss the man silly.

  He wasn’t sure what it said that Shane opened right on up, let him in and let him take what he needed. Galen decided to take it as a good thing, decided to trust, and he pulled Shane half into his lap, the pizza box sliding away across the table.

  Shane ended up straddling him, leaning against his belly, hands framing him face. “Hey.”

  “Hey, darlin’.” Grinning, he rubbed noses with Shane, then kissed him hard, loving up on him. He cupped Shane’s butt and rubbed them together, groaning at how good it felt.

  “Your pizza’s getting cold.” Like Shane gave a shit.

  “That’s why you have the oven downstairs….” That felt like heaven, his own sweet Shane on top of him, rubbing like a madman, both of them groaning. “We’ll get to it.”

  “Uh-huh.” Shane’s hands framed his face, eyes burning down. “I don’t want nobody but you. You hear me?”

  “I hear. Promise.” Galen couldn’t mistake the look in those eyes, couldn’t help but believe. “My bartender, huh?”

  “Yours, all of me.” Shane shook him just a little. “Nobody else gets what you do.”

  “Kiss me, darlin’.” He’d said he was okay last night, but now he was just getting there, Shane’s vehemence as convincing as it was adorable.

  The kiss damn near blew the top of his head off, all the shit Shane’d worked himself up with building to a head. They rocked, both of them panting when they broke for air, both of them touching all over. He yanked Shane’s shirt off over the man’s head, thumbs going right to those pierced nipples to rub. Shane reached down, popped his fly, fingers wrapping around his cock, rubbing him through his briefs.

  “Uhn. Shane. Darlin’.” Arching, he rubbed right up into the touch, wanting it more and more. Shane got to him like no one else ever had.

  “Uh-huh. Mine.” Shane’s thumb dragged hard over the tip of his cock.

  “Yours, lover.” Everything Shane wanted. All of it. Galen reached down and pulled his underwear to the side, shoving Shane’s hand where he wanted it.

  “Yeah.” Shane nodded and started working him, eyes never leaving his, staring right into him.

  God. His other hand shook, pulling at Shane’s jeans, trying to get them together so he could rub their cocks along one another. They needed this. He did. All of it. He fished Shane’s cock out, their shafts rubbing together, sliding just right. Shane’s lips parted, cheeks going all pink.

  “Like that, huh? I know I do. God, yeah.” There. Good friction. Just fucking right friction. Galen moaned and started humping hard, really going at it.

  “Yeah, Len. Need it.” Shane leaned down, nuzzling right into his neck, and started sucking up a mark.

  Fuck. Fuck a goddamned duck. Galen moaned, arching and bucking, his head falling back. Like his neck was directly connected to his cock, he felt that touch zing all the way to the end.

  Shane moaned, bit a little, made him feel it, all the way to the bone.

  “Shit, darlin’. Gonna make me.” He was gonna explode. Damn, oh damn, his cock fucking ached.

  Another bite and he was right there, Shane bucking along with him.

  He came until his eyes crossed and his balls hurt, and in the end he was grinning like a mad fool, nuzzling right into Shane’s neck and breathing deep. “Smell like pineapple.”

  “I’m not wearing a grass skirt and doing the hula for you, Len. No matter how nice you ask.”

  “We’ll get Vic to do it. Goob can play the ukulele.” At his name, Goob came romping over, dropping the slimy rubber frog right on Shane’s leg.

  “Oh. Dude. Icky frogness.” The thing went flying, Shane laughing good and hard, easing the last little bit of worry in him.

  “He just wants to contribute.” Leaning, he snagged a piece of ham off the pizza and let Goob lick it off his fingers. “So, you gonna get me a drink when we get back down to the bar?”

  “I am. Then I’m gonna let you dance with me for a couple before you take me home.”

  “That I can do, darlin’.” He kissed Shane’s cheek, his chin and mouth. “That I can definitely do.”

  Chapter Twenty

  GALEN SUCKED in his gut and looked in the mirror, turning side to side. Then he let it out, frowning at his reflection. In. Out. In. Out.

  Maybe he needed to go to the gym.

  “Shane? Darlin’? Tell me the truth. Am I getting porky?”

  “Huh?” Shane looked up from the newspaper, head tilting sort of like Goober when faced with a chew toy.

  He wandered away from the mirror and flopped down on the couch next to Shane, frowning as his belly kinda… spilled. “Am I getting wide?”

  “You are not.” Shane shook his head, rolled his eyes. Of course, Mr. On-His-Feet-Eighty-Hours-a-Week was all lean muscles.

  “You sure?” Because he was feeling the tight when he moved, knew it was time to get doing some exercise. Fuck, he sounded like a girl.

  “You wanting to go up and work out at the gym or something, Len? I mean, you aren’t getting out like you like to.”

  Jesus. He was getting fat. “Well, I was thinking I need to do something. Maybe get some weights and shit for the house.”

  “Yeah? We could go dancing a couple nights a week…. That’s like moving and getting out and stuff.”

  “Yeah.” And after the whole dancing-with-someone-else thing, he wasn’t about to let Shane go without too long. “We could do that, darlin’.”

  He got a grin, happy and wicked as all fuck. “There’s lots of fun shit we can do, you know. Bowling. Swimming. Fucking. Badminton.”

  “Oh, I like the fucking.” Badminton, not so much. Swimming might be fun. Bowling he always fucked up by overthrowing.

  “Did you like playing ball?” The newspaper got set aside, Shane’s full attention on him now.

  “I did. Mostly.” He grinned, sorta leaning into Shane. “The physical shit I never minded. It was always the politics.”

  “Politics? Like who got to play what?” Shane reached for him, touching, loving on him.

  “And when and all. And there was always the pecking order among the players.” That he didn’t miss at all, and with a kinda blinding flash of duh, he realized that 90 percent of his trouble was that his wheeling and dealing lately was just like that. “I think I ought to quit my new job and go back to owning a bait shop.”

  “Yeah?” Shane nuzzled his temple. “You were happier then, before. You slept better.”

  Rubbing Shane’s back, he leaned against the cushions and nodded, pondering that. “I did. But then, you were home more.”

  “Yeah.” Shane sighed, cheek coming to rest on his shoulder, fingers moving restlessly on his belly.

  Turning, he kissed Shane’s forehead. Damn, they sounded like a couple of lovelorn critters. They needed to get off their asses and do. “How much longer before you can go on vacation?”

  “I’m hoping the day manager agrees to cover me next month for a couple weeks.”

  “Good. We should go.” He’d get buff before then. Maybe he’d hire an assistant. He let his fingers dance over Shane’s ribs.

  Shane nodded, chuckling. “We should. Just you and me. No phones.”

  “Mmm. No phone. No bar. No worries. Sounds good, darlin’. We could even drop Goob off with Momma.”

  “Oh, Goob would like that.” Oh, man. That was something, Shane being willing to let the pup stay with someone.

  That was about all he could stand of the touchy-feely talking too, without bubbling over. Galen turned and pressed Shane back against the couch, kissed him square on the mouth.


  Shane’s eyes went wide for a second; then those lips opened right up.

  Oh hell, yes. That he understood. That he got. Galen kissed Shane good and deep, tongue sliding in to taste.

  Shane fought him for control of the kiss, tongue stroking against his own.

  Galen turned and pulled and lifted and… there. He got Shane up on his lap, straddling him. He bit down on Shane’s lip as he pulled back for air, squeezing that tight little ass.

  Shane rocked and rubbed, already filling those jeans. “You wantin’?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Always.” He squeezed again, pulling Shane down against his own crotch, letting him feel. “Always, darlin’.”

  He got one of those deep, rough sounds, one that let him know Shane would give him any fucking thing he asked for.

  Those jeans had to go. Galen reached for the zipper, got Shane out and into his hand. He stroked, loving on Shane so good.

  “Len. Damn.” Shane curled over his hand, fingers reaching for his belt. All the while, that tight little ass was bouncing on his thighs.

  “Yeah, darlin’. You look fucking hot.” Felt fucking hot too. He loved the way Shane felt against his palm, against his legs. He sucked in his gut, letting Shane get his belt open.

  “Gonna let me ride you?” He could see the hint of that chain, tugging Shane’s nipples, making them tight.

  Pushing at Shane’s shirt so he could get to it, tug it, he nodded. “Yeah, darlin’. Nothing better.”

  Shane stripped the shirt off, gold shining against the tanned skin. “Want to touch?” Then the little tease leaned back, belly stretched out.

  Lord. Growling, Galen stroked up along Shane’s chest, pulled at that little chain he’d gotten Shane two Christmases ago, watching those nipples turn red and hard for him. Shane’s prick leaked, hot little drops that slid down, slicking his fingers.

  Galen tugged at the chain with his other hand, letting Shane’s cock go for a minute to taste, licking it clean before easing down again, lifting cock and balls and squeezing. When they were like this, he didn’t think about what he looked like. He just thought about Shane.