Sumage Solution GL Carriger

by G. L. Carriger

  No, Max lived in a little apartment over the garage, at the front of the property. The one that had been the nanny’s when he was a boy. One disinterested European nanny after another. But he had no expressly bad memories associated with it. So, when his dad died and he still inherited – amazing that the will remained unaltered despite his being both sumage and gay – he took the apartment.

  Bryan Frederiksen filled it up with his presence. The small studio space became crowded with pretty eyelashes, and muscles, and thick hair. He grounded the whole room with calm, sweet shyness.

  He stood at the door a long moment, taking the darkness in.

  Max didn’t turn on the lights, and wondered how good a werewolf’s night vision really was. Not that he was ashamed of the place – it was a bit messy. So was Max. But he wanted it dark. He wanted to hide. Well, keep hiding.

  Max was profoundly, abjectly, pathetically grateful he’d managed to negotiate the blindfold.

  Bryan was a nice dude. Clearly he was. Under all that East Coast gruffness and big-guy dourness, he was a softie. He wouldn’t stop when he saw what Max looked like under his too-tight shirt and jeans. He wouldn’t stop…but he’d want to. And his erection would flag and all that sweet, heady, golden lust and comfort would shift into awkwardness and repulsion.

  Max just wanted the one time with this perfect man, this perfectly wrong werewolf. Just the once, with no fear of ruination or rejection. It was an added benefit that he might control the situation, that Bryan trusted him with a blindfold already. For their first time together. For Bryan’s first time ever. Max had no idea why, but the werewolf did trust him. Probably a Beta thing.

  Max could see it in Bryan’s eyes, lust-filled, thank heavens, for it would suck if all this were one-sided. But those eyes also assessed Max for clues. Seeking insight into Max’s thoughts and feelings, the reason behind his odd request. I’ll have to be careful not to betray anything.

  Max gave a funny awkward little fan of a gesture. “Welcome to my humble abode. It’s not much, but it’s home.”

  “Sweet. I grew up in a double-wide, and I’m currently stuffed in a two-bedroom with seven other guys. Three of whom are bigger than me. This is paradise.”

  “They come bigger than you?”

  “Judd and Kev, those enforcers I told you about. And there’s Tank.”

  “Of course there’s a Tank. Goes so well with Biff.” Max refused to think of Bryan as Biff. It was just wrong. “Do you have a Skulls and a Butch, too?”

  Bryan’s face closed a moment at that. Then he grinned. “Did have. Other pack.”

  “Ah.” That was a sensitive subject. “Do you want something to drink or eat?” Max tried to be a gracious host. He moved toward the side of the room that formed his tiny kitchen.

  The wolf stalked him. “Does sumage count?”

  “Uh…” Max licked his lips, struggling for a smart reply.

  Bryan groaned. “You gotta stop doing that.”

  “What?”

  “The lips. Just makes me want to lick them instead. My tongue is jealous of your tongue.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  Then they were kissing again. It was just as good as the first time.

  Bryan kissed with his whole body, this force of warmth and muscles that pulled Max in, even as he pushed hips and tongue against him. Max didn’t think he’d ever been kissed, or wanted, so thoroughly. Like Bryan’s entire purpose in existing was to kiss him.

  Max pulled away, panting. He needed to get naked. He needed to get Bryan naked. Soon. For that, he needed a blindfold and a shower. Although not necessarily in that order.

  “Make yourself at home. I’m going to go shower, as my lover requested.”

  A shy nod.

  “No peeking,” said Max. He retrieved a fresh shirt – the jeans were probably fine, he hadn’t put any scent down there. Although he’d thought about it. He locked the bathroom door behind him, just to be on the safe side. Not that he didn’t trust Bryan.

  Mindful of the werewolf’s sense of smell, Max washed as best he could with a fragrance-free soap – thank god I have some – and rinsed several times, trying to get all the alien scents off his body. He concentrated on everywhere, equally mindful of Bryan’s intentions toward his ass. And was struck with a momentary comic amusement of dogs always smelling each other’s butts.

  Dried, he donned the fresh shirt, hoping it didn’t smell of laundry detergent. I’ll have to get all new products if we keep this up. But he couldn’t think that way. This was a one-time deal. Has to be. It’s not like I can keep blindfolding the man every night. Although Bryan might let him.

  He returned to the living room, toweling his wet hair dry. Bryan hadn’t moved.

  Max tossed the towel onto a chair and shoved in against him, nuzzled up to the warmth.

  The big man bent his head to the side of Max’s neck and took a long breath.

  “Better?”

  He got a moan for that and a very hard cock pressed up against him. His own twitched in response.

  “Eight inches, huh?”

  A small puff of amused air met that, then a long lick up to his ear and a nibble. “Too much?”

  “Guess we’ll find out. Come.”

  Max led his werewolf, docile, over to his massive bed. It took up most of the apartment, but Max was six foot two and he hated tiny beds. It was his one luxury.

  Max dropped Bryan’s hand and fished about in the top drawer of his dresser. Bryan watched him, with that focused intensity. Waiting, hoping.

  Max found the blindfold, long disused but there. A nice high-quality leather one. There’d been a lover after his Dad died who liked to inflict pain. Who tried to add to Max’s scars. Max had let him, for a while, because he needed punishment, or thought he needed it. He’d gotten rid of the lover and the need but kept the blindfold.

  He turned and held it up. “You still up for this?”

  A nod. Long lashes lowered.

  Max, desperate for comfort, or reassurance, asked, “Why?” Why do this for me? How could I possibly be worthy of this kind of trust?

  “Because you need it.” Werewolf Beta, he gave back exactly what was required. Like it was in his nature to do so. Because it was.

  Max let out a shaky breath and nodded.

  Bryan rested those big hands on Max’s hips while Max slipped the blindfold over his head. As if Max were the one who needed support.

  Max adjusted the two elastic straps, made sure the blindfold was seated comfortably. It was a shame to cover those beautiful hazel eyes, and Max wished so hard – so fucking hard – that he didn’t need to. He’d love to look into those eyes. Watch them dilate. Watch them turn yellow. Those eyes would look up at him through long lashes when Biff’s mouth was around his cock. Or the reverse.

  “Can you see anything?” Max didn’t recognize his own voice. There was so much hesitancy.

  Bryan shook his head.

  Max tested. He moved in fast and nipped the other man’s strong neck. Bryan flinched in surprise. Max did it again to the other side – a slight hiss met that.

  Determined to give him something, and words were his best gift or weapon, Max started to speak.

  “I’m going to strip you bare now. Are you hairy, werewolf of mine? God, I hope you are. I’ve dreamed of it. I want to rub against you. Feel the prickle.”

  “I object,” said Bryan, with a small smile. “My chest hair is soft. I condition it regularly.”

  “Ah-ha! You are gay.”

  Max leaned in and began unbuttoning that amazing shirt. “This thing is ridiculous. How on earth did you end up owning something so sexy? Doesn’t seem like your style.”

  “It’s not. I wanted to wear a white T-shirt.”

  “That’s sexy too, but this is unfair.”

  “Lovejoy’s fault.”

  “He gay too?”

  “Naw. Just a poser.”

  Max snorted in amusement and finally managed to peel off the shirt. Bryan wasn’t
making it easy. He’d been denied his sight, but he wouldn’t stop touching. His big hands had gone from Max’s hips to his ass – they seemed pretty focused on kneading. It felt amazing. But it meant the shirt was stuck at his elbows.

  Finally, Max got Bryan to stop long enough to take it off. He did have a hairy chest. And it was really soft.

  Max buried his face in it. Rooted around for the small, hidden nipples. Licked them, bit one slightly.

  Bryan jerked and gave a little growl of pleasure. Sensitive, huh? Good. Max licked again.

  The werewolf shuddered and hissed a bit. His hands, back on Max’s ass, contracted inadvertently.

  “You should get them pierced,” suggested Max.

  “Werewolf,” Bryan replied.

  Oh, right, Bryan’s self-healing would just push the metal out, unless it was silver, and then it’d slowly poison him. Better just nice, sensitive nipples. Max nibbled again. He inhaled deeply – Bryan smelled good too. Woodsy, outdoorsy, fresh. A bit of fur, but not wet dog or anything icky like that.

  Bryan pulled Max close and nuzzled his neck again, massive hands moved from his ass to stroke his lower back, and then tugged on his shirt, pulling it up and over his head.

  Max froze and held his breath.

  Nothing.

  Blindfold was still in place. Bryan really couldn’t see anything.

  “God, your skin. It feels like silk.” Bryan’s fingers followed the divot of his spine.

  Good, he can’t feel my scars.

  Bryan bent and nuzzled in along Max’s pecs, arrowing in on his nipples now. Long, rough licks. He’d said he wanted to lick him all over. He wasn’t joking.

  Max jerked. His nipples were also sensitive.

  Bryan grumbled. “Not pierced?”

  “Mage,” responded Max.

  Bryan nodded. Never a good idea to have metal around a charge like that. Max didn’t say it, but he also wasn’t sure if he needed any more pain. Placing hurt enough without having his nipples on fire from superheated piercings.

  Max fell back onto the bed, pulling Bryan with him and on top of him. Bryan gave him more licks, moving over and up his ribs, into his armpit. Max had a bit of hair there. The werewolf discovered it with his tongue.

  It shouldn’t have been erotic, but it was. Max felt he might melt into the bed or writhe right out of it. His body was strung out between the two options, vibrating. With a man’s tongue in his armpit.

  Oh well, weirder things have happened.

  Bryan was clearly lost in him. In his smell. His movements were measured, cautious, savoring, but under it all, frantic. He whined.

  Max could see Bryan’s cock tenting his jeans, eager, just from licking.

  Suddenly, Max wanted to get at that cock more than he wanted anything else. He pushed Bryan to stand up again. Unbuckled his belt, shoved down his jeans.

  “Jesus Christ, no underwear?”

  “Clothing is a human thing. Why bother except to pass for—”

  Max closed his hand around the werewolf’s incredibly hard prick and the man shut up mid-sentence with a squeak. A very manly squeak, but a squeak nonetheless.

  He hadn’t lied back at DURPS. Nice eight inches, uncut, smooth, and bone-hard. Leaking a bit already. Max stroked him. Once, twice, watched the big, muscled man writhe under his touch, arch into his hand.

  Then Max stopped and slid off the bed to fuss with Bryan’s boots, trying to figure out how to get them unzipped. He tugged off jeans and shoes and finally, finally his man was naked.

  God, he was so glorious. All hard planes and muscles, soft pelt of chest hair, hairy legs too. That big prick jutting up.

  Max’s mouth watered.

  Without intending – he’d wanted to move slowly – he bent and lapped the beads of pre-cum. Just a taste, the flavor spiked on his tongue. Salty. But different, not like a human at all. Wild, almost spicy.

  Spicy dick! he thought, mildly hysterical.

  Bryan’s hands were urging him on or off, hard to tell. One was buried in his hair pressing forward, the other at his shoulder tugging back.

  “Too good.” Bryan growled. “I want to last. Me first, please?”

  “Well, since you ask so nicely.”

  Max guided Bryan to lie fully on the bed. “Wait here.”

  Then he stepped back and stripped, making quick work of his jeans.

  He crawled up onto the bed. And then onto the werewolf.

  Immediately Bryan’s hands were all over him, unerringly, accurately to his most sensitive spots, despite the blindfold. Max wasn’t in charge anymore.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Fizzy

  Biff couldn’t hold back any longer. He’d been patient and he’d been good. But there was something about Max and this blindfold that suggested it wasn’t about control. Max didn’t want to dominate him – he just didn’t want to be seen.

  Why? What happened to him?

  Biff vibrated with desire. Desire to fix this broken part of his sumage. He imagined that Max was made of shards, some missing, and Biff might fit himself into all Max’s dark, empty spaces.

  Denied his eyes, Biff was determined to see Max in other ways. Determined to let Max know that he was known. Biff was here and willing, despite whatever it was Max feared so badly.

  Biff had a naked Maximillian Barker in his arms and he was going to take full advantage of that fact.

  He twisted them both so Max was lying on his back, and Biff on his side looming over him. Then he petted him. Neck to feet. Running his hands over every inch of that soft smooth skin. Charting the muscles as if in an anatomy class. He memorized the different textures where Max’s skin thinned behind his knees or roughened over his elbows.

  Max writhed. A litany of curses fell from his lips like a benediction. Biff could smell his arousal. Sharp and sweet. He could smell him now. Thank god for that shower. The scent of Max was a drug, the shifting eddies marked his body better than eyesight, forming an aromatic topographic map in Biff’s mind, high sharp points of clean sweat, low valleys of earthy musk – ripe, ready, eager. It contrasted perfectly against that soft expanse of skin. Like Biff’s nose told him stories of vast mountain ranges while his hands were all rolling tundra. Perhaps the blindfold was a good idea after all.

  Max’s swear words told Biff that he was sensitive at his hip bones, perhaps a little ticklish. That he loved having his nipples pinched. That his neck was a definite hot point, but he wasn’t sure about his feet.

  Biff let his hands roam, finding the hard hot velvet of cock, slightly damp at the tip. Max was circumcised, heavily veined, and eager.

  Biff brushed his calloused thumb around the head, and Max’s “Christ, yes!” was almost a sob.

  Biff moved farther down to Max’s taut balls, and back to the puckered skin about his hole. Biff was determined to find everything.

  Max stopped talking.

  So, something shuts him up.

  Instead of words, he gave Biff the most exquisite series of whimpers. Biff focused in on the sounds. Adding it to his other sense maps. The blindfold made everything so intense. Or maybe that was just Max.

  I have to taste.

  Biff wanted to pet more. To squeeze and grope. He wondered if some day Max might lie under him, face down, while Biff massaged his back. Might squirm with relaxation and pleasure. Might let him slip a slick oiled cock against and inside, while he pressed the tense muscles of his shoulders into submission.

  Biff shook his head. The fantasy is now. And now I get to lick. I bartered for it.

  Biff tilted his head up, showing the sumage his blindfolded face. “What you want? Tell me.”

  “You fucking tease.” Max’s voice was husky as if he’d been smoking.

  “Thought talking was your thing. Can’t know if you don’t tell me.”

  “Ever sucked a man’s cock before?”

  “Nope.”

  “Wanna try?”

  “Maybe in a bit.”

  “I hate you.”

 
Biff crawled back up that sleek body. Lay heavily upon him. Blanketed him.

  Max squirmed, brushing his nipples against Biff’s chest hair. Rubbing his cock against Biff’s own. That was too damn good. Biff shifted up slightly and clamped heavy muscled thighs about the man’s eager prick.

  Max whimpered and bucked.

  “Be still,” Biff growled.

  Then he began to lick. As he had done with his hands, he started at Max’s neck and worked his way down. He licked and nibbled all over the man’s body. Bathing him in his spit.

  Mine. My Trouble.

  He was affecting that scent map, the rise and fall of Max’s smells. He was turning Max’s fragrance into the scent of them. The smell of us.

  Max stilled. Barely breathing. Twitching only a little. His cock still liked it. He still liked it. But it was almost as if he was balanced on a precipice.

  Biff took his time. Learning this beautiful man with his mouth, all the way down to his toes. Max giggled. Then back up to end finally, gloriously, with that cock.

  He swallowed him down. Fine, he tried to. And gagged a bit.

  Max chuckled. “Not so easy as it seems, is it, Muscles?”

  With a growl of frustration, Biff wrapped one large hand about the base and then concentrated on sucking what he could manage.

  “Oh shit.”

  Biff popped off to say, “I learn fast.”

  Then he went back to sucking. Licking along the sides, twirling his tongue over the head, a little nibble on the shaft. Careful to keep his canines out of it. They’d dropped fully now. No doubt his eyes, under the blindfold, were completely yellow. Extreme arousal did that to a werewolf. Biff covered his teeth carefully with his lips and sucked cock some more.

  Max tasted divine. Salty sweet, tangy pre-cum, a mellow yogurt flavor. Biff delved his tongue into the weeping slit. More.

  Max gave a little scream. Biff squeezed the base of his cock in an iron grip.

  “You’re actually going to kill me,” said Max, almost conversationally.

  “I’ve only licked the one side of your body.” Biff explained as if to an oblivious child.

  “Oh god.”

  Biff grinned and manhandled the sumage over onto his front.