Rougaroux Social Club 4: Bayou des Enfants

by LynnLorenz

  He’d heard of some mated pairs, usually an alpha with a deep connection to his mate, who could communicate without words even while one was shifted. He made a note to ask his mentor, Bobby Cotteau, the former sheriff and pack alpha, if it was true.

  Scott inhaled, pulled out until his cock rested at Ted’s opening, and then rubbed it up and down from Ted’s balls to the top of his crack. Ted moaned. Scott slid back in, back out, setting a slow pace, each time raking over Ted’s prostate. And each time, Ted cried out, gripped the sheets, and pushed back to meet Scott’s thrusts.

  They fucked as soft streaks of dawn came through the window and slashed across Ted’s head, making his dark hair shine almost blue black, highlighting the ecstasy on his face. Scott’s heart filled to near bursting.

  “Harder. Deeper.” Ted’s voice wobbled, sending Scott over the edge.

  He lost it, lost control of the strokes and slammed into his lover, giving Ted what he needed, Scott pounding him hard, burying his cock deep inside and at the same time giving himself what he desperately needed also.

  Ted reached beneath him for his dick, and Scott growled. “Not yet. I want to see you come.” Ted groaned, but he let go and gripped the sheets again.

  Scott chucked. He loved thwarting Ted, making his man wild, driving him crazy. Loved being in control. Face it, he wasn’t alpha for nothing, and Ted was the perfect mate for him—he tested and pushed Scott and was always ready to make the fight worthwhile.

  And right now Ted was lost in it, just like Scott loved. Ted would get this special look on his face, as if he were transported to somewhere beautiful. Scott felt powerful, that he could make Ted feel that way.

  He focused and hammered into Ted. Scott’s balls tightened, and a growing fullness began deep in them. Ready to explode, Scott held back until his body began the climb to release.

  “Fuck. Gonna come.” He groaned and, with a final thrust, buried his cock deeper in Ted’s warm chute. Ted clamped around him and sent Scott over the edge.

  Cum spurted with each racking orgasm. Scott arched his back, hands gripping Ted’s hips, emptying his load into his mate.

  Ted moaned. “Scott. Damn.”

  Scott pulled out, his dick leaking cum, and flipped Ted over. “Now, baby. Come for me.” He knelt between Ted’s legs for a front-row seat to the action.

  Ted grabbed his cock and stroked it. “Oh yeah. Fuck. Watch me.” His eyes rolled back as he pumped his dick.

  Scott licked his lips. Torn between wanting to watch and wanting to suck Ted off, he held his breath, knowing the signs Ted gave when he came.

  Ted stroked so fast his hand was a blur, and he curled forward. This was it. Any second and he’d blow.

  Scott grinned and grabbed his flaccid cock, giving it a tug, just for good measure. But Ted was the star now.

  Ted whimpered and gave Scott a look that said I need more.

  Scott knew what Ted needed. He pushed Ted’s knee to the side, leaned down, and bit Ted’s inner thigh. Hard.

  Ted cried out and came. Ropes of white painted Ted’s belly as Scott sucked up a mark, growling “Mine!” He didn’t stop until Ted buried his hand in Scott’s close-cropped hair and tugged.

  “Love you, wolf.” He collapsed back on the bed with a sigh and a smile.

  Scott looked up at him. Kissed his limp cock. Licked up his belly, dragging his tongue through the strings of cum, and then hovered over Ted. A year ago, he would have sworn he’d never taste a man’s cum or love it as much as he did now. He pressed his forehead to his mate’s forehead and closed his eyes. This was it. He’d waited far too long since the first and last time he’d said it.

  “Love you, Ted.”

  Ted gasped.

  Their gazes met. Ted reached up and palmed Scott’s stubble-roughened cheek.

  “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

  Scott shook his head. “Mean it.” His throat closed up, and getting words out nearly killed him. “Should have said it sooner and more often.”

  Ted ran his hand over his face. “I never thought… Damn it, wolf. Why do you undo me so bad?”

  “Mates,” Scott whispered.

  “Mates,” Ted replied.

  Scott took Ted’s mouth in a claiming kiss, once again sealing their mating. This man was his.

  His life couldn’t be more perfect.

  Except for that weird dream. He hadn’t had dreams about kids in a long time, since before he and Ted first moved in together.

  His belly clenched, and he growled low in his throat.

  There was only one reason he would be dreaming about wolf pups.

  Maman.

  Chapter Two

  Scott pulled his cruiser up to his mother’s cottage. The black cat sat on the railing, watching him get out and approach.

  He knocked on the screen door. The cat hopped down and strolled over to sit beside the door, out of view.

  Scott tapped his foot. His mother was taking her sweet time, and he needed to get to work. The more he waited, the madder he got. She’d sworn to stop meddling. Promised him, the last time her “voodoo” got them into a mess.

  If she thought she could manipulate him again, she was out of her mind.

  Darlene Dupree opened the door. “Hey, Scott!” She looked past him. “Where’s Ted?”

  “He’s home. I’m on my way to work. We need to talk.”

  She frowned but pushed open the screen door to let him in. The cat slipped past her like a black blur.

  “Damn cat!” She stumbled back but caught herself before she fell. “He wants to kill me, the furry bastard.”

  Scott grumbled, “He’s not the only one.”

  She shot Scott a sideways look, then turned to go to the kitchen. Scott followed, passing the cat now sitting on the back of the living room couch, licking its paw. It stopped, glanced at Scott, stretched—paws extended out, ass in the air—and then curled up.

  Darlene pulled out a kitchen chair and picked up her lit cigarette from the ashtray.

  “Maman, you need to stop smoking. It’s going to kill you.” Despite his anger, he loved his momma and wanted her healthy and alive. Most of the time.

  “Phish.” She waved a hand at him, and the gray smoke curling from the cigarette danced in the air. “Gonna die one day, anyway. I’m going to keep smoking, drinking, and eating whatever I want until the Lord takes me home.”

  “What makes you so sure it’ll be the Lord?”

  She shot him a hard glare. “I’m a practicing Cath-o-lic. I’ll get in.”

  Scott rolled his eyes.

  He had to hand it to her. She lived life on her own terms. The only time he ever saw her back down was with their priest. Now that was a sight to see, but it didn’t happen often.

  “Maman, I need to ask you something, and I want the truth.” Scott swung his chair around and straddled it, his long legs sticking out on either side.

  “Did you eat breakfast? I’ve got some of that good sausage you like.” She pointed to the stove with her cigarette.

  “No. I mean yes. I ate at home. Ted fixed veggie omelets.”

  “Good. That boy’s good for you, son. Takes care of you.”

  “Yes, he does.” He sighed, knowing his mother’s usual stalling tactics. “I want to talk to you about dreams.”

  “Dreams?” She cleared her throat. “Coffee?” Darlene stood and grabbed the pot on the counter. She poured a cup and brought it to Scott without waiting for his answer.

  He took the mug from her and fixed it the way he liked it. Took a sip. It was clear he wasn’t going to get any fast answers, so he might as well relax and drink his coffee.

  “I had a dream last night.”

  “Okay.” She sipped her coffee.

  “It was a full moon last night.”

  “Was it?” She shrugged.

  “Good night for a spell.” Scott watched her for any reaction.

  Darlene’s back stiffened. “Spell? I don’t do spells. I pray.”

  “Ri
ght.” He twisted his lips. “Pray. Good night for a prayer.”

  “Any night is a good night to pray.” She took a drag off the cigarette, held it, and then exhaled.

  He cracked his neck, letting go of some of the tension building there. The sound echoed in the small kitchen. His mom jumped, then gave him a guilty smile.

  He had her.

  “So what was this dream about?”

  “Glad you asked. Seems it was my wolf, running in the swamp, with a pup.”

  “A pup?” She gulped. “Well, you’re the alpha. There’s lots of pups in the pack.” She patted her hair as if there were any hairs out of place. And with the amount of super-hold hair spray plastering her hairdo down, that was next to impossible.

  “That’s true. But this wasn’t any old pup.”

  “No?” Her eyebrows rose.

  He leaned forward. “It was my pup.”

  “Oh.” She sucked down another lungful of smoke. Held it. Tapped the ash off into the ashtray. “Is that what you’re here for? To tell me about some old dream?”

  “I’m here because when something you want shows up in my dreams, I get to wondering.”

  She didn’t meet his gaze. The ticking of the old fridge filled the kitchen like the second hand on a cheap watch. A slow flush bloomed on her cheeks.

  “Did you have something to do with it?”

  Smoke blew from her nostrils. “Well…” She shifted in her chair.

  “Maman…” Scott growled. “The truth. Were you out in the swamp last night burying dead cats?”

  She gasped. “Scott! Dead cats?”

  From the living room, a wretched howl surprised them both, and a streak of black raced around the corner and out of sight.

  Scott didn’t let that deter him. He leveled his best “no bullshit” cop gaze at his mother. She rolled her eyes and sighed.

  “I might have taken a walk. I might have prayed. But there was no dead cats.”

  “Maman. Ted isn’t ready for kids. I’m not sure I’m ready. We’re not there yet.” He reached out and took her hand. Light as a feather, yet strong, it rested in his. “Please. No more prayers. It’ll happen when we’re ready, and not before. This is between Ted and me, not Ted, me, and you. And absolutely not between Ted, me, you, and whatever hoodoo you do out there on the bayou.”

  “I got it. No butting in.” She frowned. “But I’m not getting any younger, and neither are you.”

  “Ted and I are in our thirties, not our fifties. And it’s not like we’re looking for babies.”

  “Ha! So you have talked about it.” Her eyes gleamed.

  “Of course. Ted knows I want a family someday.” She clapped her hands like a kid. “Some. Day. Not today.”

  “And what does Ted want?” She leaned forward.

  “He wants me to be happy.” Scott grinned. “He’s okay with adopting…in the future.”

  “Good.” She took his hand. “I just want you to be happy. I know this isn’t what you planned for your life. It isn’t what any of us planned. But it is what it is. God brought Ted to you, and I’m sure He knows what He’s doing.”

  Scott laughed. “Better not let the ladies at church hear you say that. I’m not sure they believe that.”

  She sniffed. “Well, they’ll have to get used to it. We’ve got a new pope, and he’s a blessing. So kind. So caring. Even he said, ‘Who am I to judge?’”

  Scott stood. “Well, I hope you’re right. Times are changing, but I don’t think here in Louisiana Ted and I will be tying the knot anytime soon.”

  Darlene stood and hugged her son. “Would you? Marry Ted if you could?”

  Scott paused. He’d never thought of it before, mostly because he’d only just recently thought of himself as “sort of” gay. If Ted hadn’t been his mate, he’d have married some woman, brought her into the pack.

  But his life had taken a turn. Not for the worse. Just different. And only because of knowing Ted and being in this relationship in the last year he had become aware of gay rights and issues. Not knowing his wolf was gay, he’d never really given it much thought. Same-sex marriage had always been a “when pigs fly” kind of thing. Now more than half the states recognized same-sex marriage.

  “I don’t know. We’ve never discussed it. Not sure if Ted wants to take it that far. Not sure if I do either.”

  Darlene frowned. “You never know. I’d like to see Ted make an honest man outta you, son.” She winked. Talking to his mother about marrying his gay lover wasn’t what he’d come here for, so it was time to get away while the getting was good.

  Scott headed to the front door. He stepped outside and turned back to her.

  “I’m still not sure what you did with the Jesus in the tree.” Scott knew his momma, and she was a smart woman. And resourceful.

  Darlene stood in the doorway, holding the screen door open. The cat slipped out and strutted to the edge of the porch steps, tail switching back and forth.

  “I told you. I got rid of it. Cross my heart.” She crossed her heart. When he cocked up an eyebrow, she raised her other hand so he could see she didn’t have her fingers crossed.

  “Remember. No prayers. Promise me.” He looked down at her.

  “Promise.” She held her fingers up as if she were a Boy Scout. He wasn’t sure if she was trying to get around the promise, but his head would hurt if he thought about it any longer.

  Work waited. Headache enough.

  Scott trotted down the steps and to his cruiser. He got in, cranked it up, and drove down the driveway to the paved street.

  The radio crackled.

  He picked up the microphone. “Sheriff Dupree here. I’m on my way in.”

  The St. Jerome county sheriff’s office dispatcher’s voice came back. “We’ll see you in a few. Terri says bring doughnuts.”

  Scott laughed. “Roger that.” He hung up as he merged onto the main highway into town and the sheriff’s department building.

  Doughnuts sounded good, but he’d better not let Ted know he’d eaten any, not after having that veggie omelet. Scott chuckled. Ted watched both their weights, still not used to Scott’s werewolf’s fast metabolism after almost a year.

  Ted looked after him just like a wife. But if Ted ever heard Scott refer to him that way, he’d tear a strip off Scott’s hide. Ted wasn’t a replacement for a woman. Ted was all man, a big, tough former cop turned PI, and that was what turned Scott and his wolf on, if he admitted it.

  A year ago, he’d never had admitted to getting hard just thinking about fucking a man.

  Hell, he’d of sworn it’d never happen. Now, well now…he adjusted his cock. Yeah. Fucking Ted.

  Scott chuckled. Turned him on faster than a key in an ignition.

  Chapter Three

  Ted pulled up to the café where he’d arranged to meet a new client. Okay, it was his first real client here. He’d done some work for pack members and helped Bobby Cotteau locate his mate. But this was different. She wasn’t a member of the pack, lived in a nearby town, and had heard about him from an ad he’d placed in several of the local papers. Scott had pushed him to get out and work on building up his business, and it looked like it had paid off.

  Mrs. Buchanan had telephoned Ted and told him she had some worries about her husband, Howard. He’d been missing for almost three days, along with most of the money from their business bank account.

  In Ted’s experience, the most likely scenario was the guy had split town and cleaned out the accounts. Probably had a mistress, a gambling problem, or enough of the wife.

  So he’d agreed to meet her. Business was business, and he could use the money. True, his paintings of the bayou sold for hefty prices in a trendy gallery in New Orleans, but it wasn’t steady income, and his pride wouldn’t let Scott foot all the bills.

  He would not be a kept man. Or the “woman” in their relationship. Ted gritted his teeth at the thought.

  He parked and checked the gun in his shoulder holster. Not that he expected to use it
, but hey, he had the permit to carry and the clients expected it. He hated to disappoint them. PIs had a certain image to uphold.

  With a quick glance at his watch, he got out of the car and locked up. The town, just a few miles down the interstate from the St. Jerome exit, looked about the same as St. Jerome. Small main square off the main street. Antique shops and ladies’ boutiques. A few of what he called “ladies’ luncheon” cafés and the one diner where they’d arranged to meet.

  At ten thirty, the breakfast crowd had cleared out and the lunch crowd wasn’t there yet, so the place was almost empty.

  He spotted the lone woman at a table near the rear, away from the counter. She’d picked a good spot for some private conversation.

  Mrs. Buchanan looked to be about forty-five, with blonde hair cut in a trendy short style and red-rimmed blue eyes. She’d been crying, if not recently, for a long time. Not exactly attractive but well put together. He scanned her clothing, checking to see if she could afford his rates. She wore a simple black dress with a cropped blue-jean jacket over it. Simple gold earrings, gold bangle bracelets. Gold ring with a cluster of diamonds.

  Sure. She was good for it.

  He walked up to the table. “Mrs. Buchanan? I’m Ted Canedo.”

  She rose, shook his hand, and sat down again. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Canedo.”

  “Call me Ted.” He gave her a warm smile meant to inspire confidence.

  “All right, Ted.” She clasped her hands together on the table. “I explained a little about my situation the other day.”

  “Have you heard from your husband?”

  “No. I’m not going to. He’s dead.”

  “Dead?” Ted frowned. “How do you know? Did the police find his body?”

  “No. I know my husband. Howard would never just leave like that. There was no reason. We were happy. The business was doing well. We were going to expand.”

  The waitress came over. “What can I get you?”

  Ted ordered coffee, black, and Mrs. Buchanan ordered a diet cola. He waited until the woman had moved off before speaking.

  “I’m going to play devil’s advocate here for a minute. Is it possible, at all, your husband did leave on his own accord and took the money?” Ted couched his words in a soft tone.