by JC Holly
There were three entrances to the shop. Front door, bathroom door, and a door behind the counter. The last time he visited, the bathroom window had been unbarred, but that had been some time ago, so he discounted it. That left the front door and the kitchen door. Both were clearly visible from where he sat, and both could be reached in a few strides if needed.
It wasn’t that he expected an ambush, but with Gabriel it was better to be prepared. He was as slippery as soap, and nowhere near as clean.
A waitress approached the table and took Paul’s order, then wandered back behind the counter. As she stepped through into the kitchen the door swung wide and Paul got a glimpse of its contents. Small room, wide counters, window toward the back. He made a mental note, just in case. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d had to jump through a window, either.
The bell over the front door jingled, and Paul didn’t need to look up to see who it was.
“Gabriel,” he said, his eyes on his thumb nail.
“Paul. You look good.”
Paul looked up, then gestured to the seat opposite him. The man looked the same as he had the last time they’d met. Same long black hair tied in a ponytail, same quick eyes. Same long black jacket and heavy boots, too. Despite his liking of heavy clothes, the man was as quick as a fox, as Paul had found out on several occasions.
“How have you been, Paul?”
Paul stared hard at the man. “Cut the bullshit.”
“It’s a simple enough question.” Gabriel smiled and leaned back on his chair, his elbows resting on the back. “No need to rush things, is there?”
Paul gritted his teeth. “I’m fine.”
“Better than fine, I hear.” Gabriel rocked forward and thumped his arms onto the table as he leaned in close. “I hear you’re now an enforcer.”
He’d been keeping himself up to date, then. The new position had only become official a few weeks ago.
“Yes, I am.”
“Apt. You always were a rough one.”
Paul let the jibe pass. He didn’t need the argument. “And how have you been?”
Gabriel tapped his fingertips on the table. “Oh, not so bad, considering. Hard to move on, you know.”
Damn him. “I’m sure.”
A hard edge came to Gabriel’s stare. “You have no idea. Don’t pretend to understand.”
“I knew him well, too, Gabriel.” Paul held the man’s stare. “Very well.”
The long silence was broken by the waitress reappearing with a pot of coffee and two cups. Gabriel’s manner switched from silent accusation to bright and airy as she leaned down to pour the coffees.
“Lovely little shop you have here,” he said with a smile.
“Thanks, sugar,” the woman said. “First time?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He poured milk into his cup. “Though I’ve always heard good things.”
“Well, I hope you enjoy your coffee. Let me know if you need anything.”
“How about your phone number?”
The woman colored, then glanced around. She pulled a pen from her pocket and scribbled her name and number onto a notepad page, then handed it to Gabriel. He took the page, trailing his fingertips down her palm as he did.
“Thank you,” he said. “I’ll give you a call some time.”
“Look forward to it,” she said.
The men watched her walk back behind the counter, then turned back to each other. Gabriel’s smile was gone again, replaced with a smirk.
“I know she’s not your type, what with the pussy and all. But a man has needs.”
Paul shrugged. “I hope you have a lovely time.”
Gabriel smiled. “I’m sure I will.” He sipped his coffee and nodded slightly. “Damn good.”
“What do you want?”
“Oh, that.” Gabriel replaced his cup on the table. “I want you to kill someone.”
* * * *
Paul gaped. Gabriel’s last two requests were a place to stash some contraband and to rough someone up for speaking badly of the pack.
“You’re kidding.” He shook his head. “You have to be fucking kidding.”
“Now now, Paul. Language.” Gabriel flashed a smile. “I’m serious. And it’s not like it would be your first time.”
Paul clenched his fists in an effort not to put the man through the window. While it was true, that wasn’t him anymore. Not by a long chalk.
“No.”
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. “I’m sorry?”
“I said no. I won’t kill someone just because you tell me to.”
“Well, the choice is, of course, yours.” Gabriel stood and smoothed down the front of his pants. “Tell you what. I’ll give you a week to think it over. After that I’ll call you, and if you still say no I’ll have a chat with Ethan.”
Paul didn’t reply. What could he say? There was no way he was willing to kill someone just because Gabriel asked, but he also didn’t want Ethan to hear what Gabriel had to tell him. He watched Gabriel wave to the waitress then walk out the front door. The smug bastard has me right where he wants me.
With a sigh he dropped a ten onto the table and headed out to his truck. He had a few hours to clear his head before he had to get ready for the date. The last thing he wanted to do would be to show up at Darren’s door with a grimace on his face.
* * * *
Darren grabbed the closest shirt to him and pulled it on, his fingers skipping over the buttons as he tried to go from naked to dressed in four seconds. Can’t believe I fell asleep! If Robby hadn’t called to see if he was busy, he’d have been answering the door to Paul with nothing on.
Though, that held a certain appeal, as the stirring in his slacks attested. He could just imagine how Paul was in bed. Strong, in charge, almost forceful. Darren shuddered. Exactly how he liked it. A strong man holding him in place and taking what he wanted. There was no better thrill on the planet.
The alarm he’d set before jumping in the shower beeped to let him know it was five minutes to seven.
“Damn it,” he said with a hiss as he fiddled with a tie.
The knot wouldn’t level, and as he peered at it in the mirror he frowned. Why the hell was he putting on a tie? The guy was a truck-driving Werewolf foreman. The chances of him taking Darren to a fancy restaurant were slim to none. He ripped the tie off and slung it onto the bed.
They’d probably end up at a bar, or a pub that did food. Fine with me. He pulled off the shirt and replaced it with a more casual one. I don’t do posh.
The doorbell rang a few minutes after seven. Trying hard not to run, Darren headed downstairs and took a deep breath before opening the door. Paul was looking away, toward the truck, and in the moment before he turned to smile at Darren, he looked almost sad.
“Something wrong?”
“No, I’m fine.” Paul gave Darren a look over. “I like the look.”
Darren frowned, then realized there was quite a draft. Oh holy mother of fucking shit! He’d answered the door in a shirt, boxers, and socks. No pants. The blood rushed straight to his cheeks, and he turned and sprinted up the stairs.
“Be right back!”
Paul laughed and closed the door with a thump. A moment later he was on the stairs, after Darren. Darren looked over his shoulder to find Paul leant in the doorframe of the bedroom, a smile on his face.
“Don’t mind me, just taking in the view.”
Darren blushed harder, despite himself. “Look all you want, but I don’t go far on a first date.”
“That a fact?” Paul folded his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt. “Then I’d better take it all in.”
“Go ahead.” Darren turned back to the dresser and bent low to the bottom drawer. “Don’t mind me.”
“Damn. You’ll get me all excited.”
“Behave yourself.”
Paul laughed. “Never.”
Darren found a suitable pair of pants, then straightened again, his fingers pausing on the top drawer’s handle.<
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“You know, I’m not too sure about these boxers.” He turned to face Paul. “What do you think?”
Paul nodded. “Definitely the wrong color.”
Darren ran his tongue over his bottom lip, then slid the drawer open and selected an identical pair. “These are more suitable.”
Slowly, he slid his fingers into the waistband of his shorts and slid them down, inch by inch, letting Paul get an eyeful of his ass.
“You’re such a fucking tease,” Paul said, his voice practically a growl. “Sure I can’t persuade you to have a little fun?”
Darren kicked off the boxers and turned as he pulled on the new ones, giving Paul a view of his rapidly stiffening cock. “Maybe if you’re a really good boy on the date.”
Paul shifted in the doorframe. For a minute Darren thought he was going to throw him on the bed and forget the date entirely. He wouldn’t have minded if he did, either. Instead, Paul nodded.
“You know, you’re much more confident tonight.”
“I’m in my own domain, now.” Darren pulled on the pants and zipped them up over his bulging shorts. “I may have only been a wolf for a couple of months, but I’ve been a prick tease for a decade.”
He turned to close the doors on his wardrobe, and Paul was behind him faster than he should have been able to move. Darren gasped as Paul’s groin pushed up against his pants. Strong fingers slid up his sides, then moved around to his chest, brushing over his nipples. Paul leant in, his lips less than an inch from Darren’s ear.
“I’m not used to not getting what I want, you know,” he murmured. “And you’re so very hot…I don’t know how long I can hold off from bending you over the nearest piece of furniture and fucking you raw.”
Darren closed his eyes and groaned as Paul’s hands worked down to the fly of his pants. Fingers clasped the top button. Fuck, yes. Forget what I said. Make me your fucking bitch.
The fingers slid away, and Paul stepped back. Darren turned, confused, as Paul grinned.
“You’re not the only tease.”
* * * *
Twenty minutes later the pair pulled up in the parking lot of a small pub on the outskirts of town.
“Here we are,” Paul announced, as he switched off the engine.
Darren had been in the place once or twice, and knew that they did good food. He vaguely remembered great fries, among other things, and started planning what he’d order as they walked across the parking lot toward the door. It helped take his mind off the cutting wind and the magnificent specimen of a man by his side. God, he wanted nothing more than for Paul to drag him somewhere secluded and teach him a lesson for teasing.
“Now, before we go in,” Paul said, slowing. “I know you’ll probably want to discuss Were stuff, but be careful in a public place. Nothing specific, and keep it vague, in case someone’s listening in.” He smiled. “It’s not so bad in The Wolfpack. Though, even then you have to be careful.”
“Of course.” Darren smirked. “I may be a newbie, but I’m not an idiot.”
Paul shrugged. “Better safe than sorry. We’ll talk about more weighty stuff later, though, if you want.”
Despite the number of questions he still had, the last thing on Darren’s mind was talking later. He nodded, though, and they headed on inside.
The pub was well heated, and Darren immediately began to sweat. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over his arm, then followed Paul to the bar. The place had been remodeled since Darren was last there, but not a great deal had really changed. The bar was still small and only basically stocked, and the kitchens were still located by the back of the place. He caught Paul giving the place a similar once-over, though he paid more attention to the doors than the insides. Darren shrugged it off and turned to the menu.
Paul ordered a medium steak, fries, and a large beer to go with it, and Darren ordered the same, though he asked for his steak rare. It was no doubt a hell of a cliché, but since his change he preferred meat almost raw. Paul smirked at the choice, but said nothing until they were at the table.
“I used to go for rare all the time, too,” he said as he scooted his chair closer to the table. “Careful not to feed too many of your urges.”
“Oh, I’m careful. Just the meat, the odd snarl, and the sex.” Darren ran a finger up the side of his glass. “Though that one’s not so new.”
Paul laughed. “So, tell me about yourself.”
“Anything in particular?”
“How about family? Brothers? Sisters?”
“My parents live down in Florida, along with my sister. I talk to them on the phone or webcam a couple of times a week. We get on, but they never really got the whole gay thing.” Darren shrugged. “They’re not mean or anything, but they’re pretty religious.”
Paul nodded. “I know the type. My folks are both dead, but I’ve got a brother I never talk to.”
“Not a fan of the gays?”
“Not a fan of the other thing.”
“Oh, right.” Darren hadn’t even considered informing his family about that. “How come you told him?”
“It’s kind of necessary, unless you intend to avoid them for the rest of their lives. Ironically I would’ve got the same result either way.”
“But why tell them at all? It’s easy enough to hide.”
Paul smiled. “How old do you think I am?”
Darren frowned. He hadn’t considered it, really. He was certainly older than Darren, but not by much, surely.
“Thirty?”
Paul glanced around and then leant forward. “Forty-five.”
“What?” Darren put a hand over his mouth as he realized he’d shouted. “Sorry. Really?”
“When you change, your aging slows down. At first it wasn’t a problem, but as my brother aged as normal and I didn’t even gain a gray, it was only a matter of time until ‘I use Just For Men’ stopped cutting it.”
Darren hadn’t even thought of that. He’d heard rumors online that aging was affected, but it was so hard to separate the truth from the fiction that he’d not known whether it was a fact or not.
“Well, I guess I have at least four or five years to work up the nerve,” he said, his fingers tapping on the table.
Paul reached over and put his hand over Darren’s, stopping the errant fingers. “Don’t even think about it until you’ve come to terms with it yourself. The last thing you need is self-loathing on top of the accidental glass breakages, urges to pant, and need to shave daily.”
Darren laughed and let out a breath. Paul was right. No rush. The food arrived a few minutes later, and they ate in companionable silence. Darren made a note to tip well and come back frequently. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had as good a steak.
The night wore on, and they swapped discussion to work, then friends, then hobbies. Darren was pleased to find that Paul was as avid a cyclist as he was, and they quickly picked a day for a biking date.
“I love being out on my bike,” Paul said as he rubbed a finger around the rim of his beer. “Just me, the bike, and the world.”
“And the occasional bear.”
“No need to worry about those anymore,” he said. “They get a whiff of us, and they suddenly lose all interest. Same goes for most wildlife. Except wolves, though they’re only ever curious.”
Darren smiled. “Another perk. Nobody to disturb us if we stop off somewhere off the trail.”
“Nope.”
“So we could just put our bikes beside a tree, throw off our clothes…”
Paul raised an eyebrow. “Outdoors, eh?”
Darren’s stomach lurched a little. “You’re not into that?”
Paul laughed. “Oh, I’m into it.” His eyes met Darren’s. “Very much so.”
Chapter Five
It was getting late, so Paul settled up—despite Darren’s insistence he’d pay half—and they headed back to the truck.
The drive back was quiet to begin with. Paul seemed to be thinking about something wo
rk related, judging by the frowns, and Darren was wondering where to go next with the evening. Paul answered the question by snapping out of his reverie and glancing at Darren for a moment before turning back to the road.
“So, you really wanted to pay half?”
Darren nodded. “I like to pay my way.”
Paul shifted in his seat. “Well, how about you pay me another way.”
Darren started to question. Right up until Paul reached down and unfastened the top button on his pants. That was enough hint for Darren. He reached over and slowly worked Paul’s zipper down, then slid his hand through the opening on the front of his boxers. Holy hell. Darren’s fingers wrapped around the thickest shaft they ever had, and he pulled Paul’s cock free. It was the biggest Darren had ever seen outside of a porn video, and it wasn’t even hard yet.
“You like?” Paul asked, a smirk on his lips.
“Definitely,” Darren replied, his mouth dry. “Uncut, too. My favorite.”
He massaged the thick member as it hardened, then rolled back the foreskin, revealing the huge cockhead. Darren almost winced at the thought of it sliding into his ass.
“You’re so big,” he murmured as he bent to lick the head.
Paul shuddered, then pushed Darren away gently. “Just your hand. I’d crash if you did anything else.”
Darren restrained a grin. “Yes, sir.”
Paul smiled. “Nice and slow. It’s a long drive, and I don’t want to come till we get back to your place.”
Darren nodded once, then began to stroke Paul’s cock. He was dying to kiss it, to run his tongue over the vast head, and to taste his cum, but he had to admit he was a fan of hand jobs, too. The feeling of the silky skin beneath his grip, the odd twinge when he went too fast and Paul had to tense to hold back from coming.
“You’re good at this,” Paul said, his eyes on the road. “I’m thinking I should pay for everything.”
Darren smirked to himself, ignoring the burn in his wrist from his odd angle. If anyone driving past looked in the cab, they’d wonder what it was he was doing.
