by J. C. Holly
“Nice,” he said, as he pulled the foreskin back from the engorged head. “Pity you ain’t a top. You’d make a lot of men very happy.”
Mitch reached back and grabbed at Harlan’s still-clothed ass. “How do you know I’m not?”
“Years of experience.”
Mitch jumped at the sound of a zipper being pulled down. “You don’t look that old.”
“I started young.”
Not wanting to miss all the fun, Mitch turned to watch the man undress. His shirt was already off, revealing sculpted abs and pecs you could break walnuts on. Small, almost unnoticeable scars crossed one pec, stretching diagonally down toward his naval. The grouping almost made them look like claw marks. Mitch opened his mouth to comment on it, but he was distracted as Harlan pulled down his jeans.
His cock sprang up from beneath the clothing, hard and ready to go, and Mitch couldn’t peel his eyes away. Mitch was big and had had his share of big dicks, too, but it never failed to surprise him when someone pulled something out of their pants that was bigger than his own. Nine inches easily, and uncut, just how he liked them.
Harlan smirked and stroked his cock a few times. “You like what you see?”
“I do.”
“Then get on your knees and suck it.”
Mitch didn’t have to be told twice. He dropped to his knees in an instant and wrapped a hand around the stranger’s thick cock, then ran his tongue around the tip. Harlan growled in response.
“There’s a good boy,” he muttered.
He was clearly into being in charge, and that was how Mitch liked it, too. After weeks of being on tour and having everyone jump to his every word, it was a relief for someone else to take charge.
“Yes, sir,” he said, then took Harlan’s cock into his mouth.
Since he was in a rush to get to the main event he didn’t start slow. Instead he worked fast, stroking Harlan’s balls as he bobbed up and down on his thick shaft. He increased the depth rapidly, too, until the tip of his cock was pushing against the back of his throat. He relaxed and let it slip down. Harlan gasped in response.
“Well, this sure as hell ain’t your first time.”
Mitch smiled, which was no mean feat with a cock in his mouth. He held Harlan in his throat for a count of five, then pulled back off before doing it again. It wasn’t long before Harlan’s breathing started to get heavier, and he pulled Mitch off with one arm.
“Bend over.”
Mitch could hardly contain his desire as he walked to the end of the bed and put his hands on the footboard. He gripped the wooden frame tight and took a few deep breaths as Harlan pulled lube and a condom from a drawer. He tore the foil of the wrapper with his teeth, then pulled the rubber over his cock, his gaze on Mitch the whole time. The bottle in his hand, he walked around behind Mitch, then dropped a few drops of lube onto Mitch’s asshole, massaging them in with his finger.
“I’m gonna enjoy this,” he said.
Mitch opened his mouth to reply but could only gasp as Harlan’s thick cock pushed against his ass. He forced himself to relax, and inch by inch, the man slowly slid inside him.
“Fuck,” Mitch said. “You’re so big.”
“I never tire of hearing that.” Harlan slid almost all the way out. “You want it hard and fast?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“Yes, what?”
Mitch gritted his teeth. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s more like it.”
Harlan slid his cock all the way back into Mitch, then began working up to a fast pace, his balls slapping against thigh as he slammed into Mitch’s tight ass over and over. Mitch held on to the footboard with one hand and jerked his cock with the over, trying to keep in time with Harlan’s thrusting.
“Yes,” Mitch cried. “Fuck, just like that.”
“Take it, fucking slut,” Harlan growled in response, his speed increasing.
Mitch only groaned in response and focused on staying upright. He got the feeling that if he was knocked over from the force, all Harlan would do was fuck him on the ground instead. The guy was an animal, treating Mitch like his personal sex toy.
And Mitch was loving every fucking second.
They went on for what seemed like hours to Mitch, each geeing the other on with muttered obscenities and veiled words of encouragement, but it eventually came to a close. Mitch felt his orgasm rising, and Harlan must have felt similar, as his speed increased further still. Just as Mitch felt like he had to come, Harlan pulled his cock out and turned Mitch around and pushed him to his knees, then tore the condom away. A moment later a torrent of cum erupted from his cock, splashing against Mitch’s face, neck, and chest. That was the final straw for him, and he came too, adding to the pools of cum on his body.
As soon as Harlan was finished, his mood lightened. Gone was the aggressive attitude he’d had during sex. With a smile, he gestured toward the bathroom.
“There are clean towels in there. Jump in the shower if you want, I won’t bother you.”
“Oh, right. Thanks.”
Mitch headed into the bathroom and ran the shower. It wasn’t the hottest, but it was hot enough. He quickly cleaned himself up and toweled himself off before retrieving his clothes from the front room.
“You need a new dressing?” Harlan said, still naked and sitting on the bed, pointing to Mitch’s arm. “I have a first aid kit in the car.”
Mitch noticed that the bandage was half hanging off, soaked with water. “Oh. I keep forgetting it’s there.”
“I guess it doesn’t hurt, then.” Harlan turned his head to see it better. “From what I can see it looks a bit nasty.”
“It’s fine.” Mitch pulled the bandage off and threw it in the nearby trash can. “In fact, it… Oh.”
The wound was noticeably smaller than it had been, and most of the redness was gone. It looked more like a small dog bite than a wolf bite, now.
“Weird,” he muttered to himself, then looked up at Harlan. “It’s fine. Really. I don’t even need the bandage.”
Harlan nodded. “You know, I knew someone who had a bite like that. Weirdest thing. He was attacked one night by something, and he had this big old hole in his leg. Shrank within a few days, and after that he couldn’t even see the scar.” He chuckled. “Said it was a werewolf bite.”
Mitch smirked. The wound may be baffling, but it wasn’t supernatural. “Weird.”
“Yeah. Well, I’m sure you have places to be.”
“Oh, yeah.” He patted his pocket and found his wallet. “I’ll get a cab back to my place. Thanks for the fun. Hell of a night.”
“Sure thing.” Harlan plucked a card from the top of his dresser. “I’m in the area for a few days. If you like you can gimme a call and I’ll come fuck your brains out.”
“I dunno how long I’ll be in town.” He took the card and slipped it into his pocket. “And I’m more of a one-time guy.”
“Come on, now.” Harlan grinned. “I promise not to ask for any autographs.”
Mitch’s stomach dropped. “You know who I am?”
Harlan laughed. “How could I not? Doesn’t make a difference to me, though. A man has needs, whether he’s a nobody like me or Mitch Shaw, the world-famous singer.”
Mitch eyed the door. “Yeah, well. I gotta go.”
“Sure. Well, whether you call or not, it was a fun night.”
Mitch smiled and nodded, then let himself out and headed to the motel’s reception to call a cab.
* * * *
Harlan watched Mitch walk away through the room’s net curtains, then tidied the room. Damn, he’d needed that fuck, but he had a feeling he was going to pay for it sooner or later.
Mitch was becoming a shifter, and it wouldn’t be long before he needed help. Ideally it would be Harlan that would help him. Now that they’d met and fucked, though, he’d also have to explain why he didn’t tell Mitch at their first meeting.
“Ugh.” He kicked his discarded clothes into the corner and sat on the bed. “Why do I m
ake life harder on myself?”
He could’ve met the guy in the bar, turned down the offer of sex and somehow swung the conversation to his arm. Couldn’t he have? Maybe Mitch would have lost interest, and Harlan would have gotten nowhere.
“What’s done is done.” He bent to pull on his jeans and boots. “Bitching about it won’t change a thing.”
He’d coached new shifters before and would probably do so again in the future. After giving them a number, all he could do was watch and wait. Since Mitch would be off to bed now, though, he could only wait. He picked his phone up and set it to vibrate, then rifled in his bag for the case.
It was a case he’d made for himself. It clipped around his neck, and stretched to suit his wolf form, while still keeping the phone to his neck so he could feel it vibrate if someone called. He’d dyed the material a similar color to his fur, so that if he was spotted somewhere, they’d probably not spot the pouch.
For now he tossed it into his pocket and headed to the car, pulling on his shirt as he went. The night was cool, a stiff breeze rolling in from somewhere, bringing a multitude of scents and sounds with it. Harlan stopped by the car for a moment to sift through the smells. There were no shifters in the area other than himself. He stood there a little longer, just to make sure, then climbed into the car and started the engine.
In his line of work, it paid to be careful, even when he wasn’t strictly on the clock. The problem with hunting down shifters and meting out punishments based on old laws was that the shifters’ packs often took exception. Several times he’d had to explain his actions to an angry alpha and often fight his way out of the meeting. While most packs respected the old laws, even if they didn’t believe in The Ancients, they didn’t like having an outsider come in to serve as judge, jury, and executioner.
The traffic was light so late at night, which also cut down on scents, allowing Harlan to wind down a window and let his nose guide him. He hadn’t visited the city before, so he didn’t know how best to get to the nearby forests. His nose rarely steered him wrong, though.
Within twenty minutes trees appeared in between the buildings ahead, and Harlan found a quiet parking lot that didn’t appear to be overlooked by too many windows. To be sure, though, he locked the car up and headed into the trees before undressing, leaving his clothes hanging from a low branch. He checked his phone, then slid it into the pouch and clipped it to his neck.
Spending as much time as he did in wolf form, the shift was fast and only mildly torturous. He certainly didn’t envy Mitch’s first change. The pain lessened each time, but how could such radical alterations to bone and sinew be painless? Even The Ancients themselves still at least breathed heavy once they were finished.
Now on four paws, Harlan took a real breath for the first time since he’d faced Brubeck. From lingering scents from animals long gone, to the punch of old sweat that soaked his shirt, the area opened up to him. The night seemed less dark, too, thanks to his improved eyesight. He took a moment to get his bearings, so that he could find his way back, then set off at a run.
As he dodged through the trees and bushes, his wolf instincts took over, allowing him to ponder the future. Would Mitch call? And what would happen if he did?
Harlan knew how the change to were would start for the man, as he remembered his own change clearly. First, he’d noticed that the wound—in Harlan’s case it had been on the leg—had started to heal quicker than expected, and that the pain was gone within a day. After that, a general feeling of confidence came, along with an alertness that made him feel like he was on top of the world. After that, the senses came in over a period of a couple of days, often joined with increased appetite.
That was the good stuff. The other changes were related to the body craving its first shift, but not getting it because the human didn’t know they could shift. Harlan had suffered badly with mood swings and explosive rage prior to his first shift and had almost wound up in prison because of it. Mitch wouldn’t get that far, though. Harlan wouldn’t allow it.
No, even if the guy never called, Harlan would follow him and make sure he got through the change with as little hardship as possible. He owed it to the guy. After all, if he’d got to Brubeck just a couple of minutes earlier, Mitch would have never been bit.
A buzzing against his neck pulled Harlan out of his reverie. Someone was calling him. He slowed to a jog, then to a full stop, before shifting back to human form. He pulled the phone from the pouch and snapped it open.
“Hello?”
“Harlan.”
Harlan winced. It was his handler. The man never called unless something was wrong. “Chris. What’s up?”
“A meeting is required. Friends of a certain gentleman seek answers.”
That was Chris-speak for “some of Brubeck’s pack are pissed.” Harlan didn’t even realize the man had a pack. He’d been tracking Brubeck for some time before the kill, and he’d never met the same person twice.
“Set it up,” Harlan said, before snapping the phone shut again.
Damn it. That’s just what he needed.
Chapter Five
Mitch woke the next morning to a foggy head and a rumbling stomach. He opened one sleep-filled eye and stared at the ceiling of his hotel room while he put together the events of last night.
“Bar, cute guy, sex, hotel, food, sleep.” He yawned. “About covers it.”
He scratched at his wrist and frowned when he found no bandage. He pulled his arm from under the covers to inspect it and found nothing more than a crescent of scar tissue with Carr’s thick black thread poking through the skin. He chewed at his lip as he brought the wound closer to his face.
“Carr must have done something other than just stitch it,” he muttered.
Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he bit at the knot on the stitches, then pulled them out. It hurt less than he’d expected, but it was hardly a fun sensation. The phone rang as he was halfway done, and he put it on speaker while he finished.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, it’s Carr. You coming, or what?”
“Coming?”
“The airport, man! We said we’d be in the lobby ready at nine. It’s nine thirty.”
“Fuck.”
After he’d come home last night, they had all met in his room and discussed where they were going. At the time Mitch had been half asleep already and had just agreed with the consensus. They had agreed to head out the next morning and fly to the Bahamas. As soon as they had left, though, Mitch had passed out and forgotten all about it.
He could have been ready in ten minutes, but at that moment the last thing he wanted to do was drive to an airport and hang around all morning for a flight.
“So?” Carr asked, his voice impatient.
“Uh, you guys go on without me. I’ll be down in a day or two. Some stuff came up,” he lied.
Mitch heard Keith complain in the background, but Carr said it was fine, and they’d see him later. Mitch hung up the phone and lay back in bed. As he wriggled to get comfortable, something dug in his back. He rolled to the side to find a business card between the sheets. As he picked it up, memories of last night flashed past. Of Harlan taking charge and holding him in place as he railed Mitch’s ass with his thick cock.
He span the card between his fingers as he also remembered Harlan talking about a friend of his that had been bitten by a wolf and whose wound had shrunk and disappeared in a matter of days. It couldn’t hurt to call the guy and ask about the attack.
He might even get a throw down out of it.
* * * *
For the third time that year, Harlan sat at a meeting surrounded by people who wanted him dead.
He sat the end of a long mahogany table, with the upper tiers of Brubeck’s estranged pack taking up the other spots, and pretended to give a damn about what the alpha had to say.
“Just because he hadn’t checked in with us for a few months doesn’t mean we disowned him,” the powerful looking ma
n said, his growl of a voice like sandpaper. “And when someone moves against one of us, we sure as hell don’t lie down and take it.”
The rest of the pack nodded, murmured, or shouted their assent.
The alpha leant forward and jabbed a finger toward Harlan. “What gave you the right to kill him, based on unfounded assumptions?”
“He was guilty of contravening the rules of The Ancients. As I told Brubeck, that meant his life was forfeit.”
The place erupted. Men jumped to their feet, gesturing and threatening violence, and several more moved into positions behind Harlan so he couldn’t escape. The alpha waved a hand and they quieted, but their anger remained, bubbling beneath the surface.
The alpha began listing reasons why Brubeck couldn’t have done what he was accused of, and why Harlan was a fool and a murderer. Something like that, anyway. That was the general order. Harlan wasn’t actually paying much attention. He’d let them bluster, then give them the photos and evidence he collected over the time he stalked Brubeck, and either they’d shut the hell up or he’d have to fight his way out. He’d heard it all before.
As his mind wandered back to the night before, his phone vibrated and he glanced at the screen to find he had a text message.
Hey, Harlan, it’s Mitch from last night. Wondered if you wanted to meet up? Wanted to chat, and maybe see where things go from there.
Harlan restrained the urge to grin and instead turned his attention back to the meeting. Once he was done he’d reply and arrange a time.
By the looks of the crowd, he wasn’t going to get out without a fight. Time to find out. He pulled a USB memory stick from his pocket and slid it down the table. It stopped an inch from the end and the alpha picked it up, frowning.
“That stick contains photos, videos, and map data of Brubeck’s travels, along with corresponding news reports of so-called vicious dog attacks.” Harlan stood and smoothed his shirt. “It also contains an audio recording of the man’s final conversation with me. Something I do with every suspect. If that’s not enough for you, tough shit. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have places to be.”
