Primal Need: A Sexy Male/Male Shifter Anthology

by Parker Foye

  Jim traced around Teddy’s submerged nipple with his index finger. He liked touching him—liked learning his textures and cataloging his reactions, and he also liked how Teddy watched him with such open curiosity.

  “I’ve had bad experiences with men who weren’t out, and you’re not out,” Teddy said.

  “Out to whose standards? I’m not hiding anything.”

  “This is a small town. I would have heard something.”

  “And if you had?”

  Teddy’s shrug was a nervous jerk. “Maybe I’d have been nicer to you.” He gave Jim another sideways stare. “I actually do know how to flirt.”

  “I don’t believe you.” Jim could barely contain his laugh as he slid his hand down Teddy’s quivering belly and idled his fingertips where his pubic hair should have been. It was smooth flesh, and Teddy wouldn’t let him see. He’d put his hand there again. “Why are you hiding yourself?”

  “I’m used to having hair. Keeping things tidy is one thing, but to be bare as a preteen is a bit disconcerting at my age.”

  “Porn actors wax bare all the time.”

  “You watch enough to know that?”

  “Plenty, though mostly for the acting.” He traced the seam between Teddy’s privates and thigh. Teddy’s hands weren’t in the way there.

  “The acting, huh?” Teddy chuckled.

  That sound made Jim high as a kite—like he’d done something right after having failed so many times. And when Teddy laughed, his anxiety ebbed. The subtle scent of fear that he apparently carried around with him all the time tapered a bit.

  Jim wanted to make it go completely away. Pulling laughter from Teddy seemed as good a plan as any. “You gonna be a snob about the acting?”

  “Hell yeah. I don’t drop scads of money on acting and voice coaching not to be discriminating.”

  “Maybe you can watch with me so I can hear your critique. I do prefer porn with plots, by the way. The fake gay-for-pay ones have the absolute worst scripts, but they give me good role-playing ideas.”

  “Oh my God.” Teddy’s head fell forward and his shoulders shook. His laughter was so breathless, Jim wondered if he might need mouth-to-mouth.

  Teddy had carelessly let one of his hands fall away, and Jim slowly crept his hand to that uncovered spot.

  Teddy’s laughter tapered off, but the fear he’d let go of didn’t re-manifest. He smelled of Jim, adrenaline and lust, and was already half hard.

  Jim wanted him the rest of the way there.

  At Jim’s squeeze of his cock head, he jerked violently forward, muttering insults under his breath, but he’d moved his other hand for him, too.

  “That mouth of yours, Ted...” Jim pulled him more onto his lap, settling him over his own cock and parting Teddy’s legs a bit. “Grip them both.”

  “What?” Teddy’s toes curled against Jim’s shins.

  “Yours and mine. Hold them together.” He slipped his free hand between Teddy’s legs and pressed at the tight, clenching entrance. “I have other ideas if that one doesn’t fly. I’ve got this sofa downstairs. Perfect height to bend you over.”

  Teddy’s toes curled again.

  “Would you like that? You whining and bitching all the way down the stairs and telling me you’re going home and all that bullshit, and then you’ll shut right up when I kick your legs apart and shove my fingers into your ass.”

  With only the briefest thought about it, he felt the tightness beginning low down in his belly. The warning of a quake that couldn’t be prevented.

  “Fuck.” Teddy’s voice was barely a whisper.

  “Mmm.” Jim notched the tip of his middle finger past the barrier and rocked his hips, loving the smooth glide of his shaft against Teddy’s inner thigh. “That room is wide open. One of the guys could walk in at any time. They’d see you gripping the chair and panting, and you wouldn’t say shit because you like it too much, right?”

  “No.” But Teddy grabbed Jim’s wrist and forced more of his finger inside.

  He clamped down hard around Jim’s finger, and Jim’s cock ached from neglect. He wanted to put his dick where his finger was and make Teddy ride him until he could look him in the eyes. “Put them in your fist, Teddy.”

  Teddy’s grip was tentative around him at first when he slid his fingers under his shaft, but then firmer.

  Jim dragged his lips up the side of Teddy’s face and his neck when he leaned his head to the side.

  Teddy’s eyes were closed. He whispered a refrain of “What am I doing? What am I doing?” while stroking them both awkwardly, but oh-so-willingly.

  “You’re touching me,” Jim whispered back. “Like I told you to. The way you want to, right?” His flesh had never felt so sensitive before. It was as though Teddy had magic in his touch that made Jim’s balls ache with heaviness that seemed electric.

  “God.” Teddy’s utterance was a barely formed aspiration that might have been heard only as a wordless sigh by someone who didn’t have a shifter’s hearing.

  “Have you thought about me at all? Have you looked at me in all this time and thought maybe I could have you? ’Cause I’m gonna have you. I’ll come so much harder knowing you went home from work to your basement and took yourself in hand thinking about me. Did you?”

  Teddy pulled some air through his teeth in a wince, and his ass cheeks clenched against Jim’s lap.

  Jim wanted to be between them, and not just with Teddy bent over a chair, but on his back, too. Jim wanted his wide blue eyes open and gaze locked on Jim as he worked his erection into that tight place. Jim wanted to see the pain on Teddy’s face, and the resignation, and then the pleasure.

  Teddy needed to let go first—needed to stop being so afraid that Jim would be the next person to hurt him. Jim wasn’t who he needed to be afraid of. He’d do everything in his power to keep Teddy from getting hurt by him and anyone else.

  “Talk to me, Ted. Tell me you thought about me. Please.” He drew in a breath and set his teeth into the cord of Teddy’s neck.

  So good.

  “Yes.” Teddy was working his hand along the two of them faster, letting the water buffer the friction and pushing himself against Jim’s cock and into his fist with each pull.

  Squeeze, thrust, pull. A clumsy stoking of a banked fire, but Jim didn’t need Teddy to be skillful—only for him not to stop, even if thighs were cramping and belly quivering.

  So good.

  “Keep doing that,” Jim whispered. “Rub your cock against me. You need to, don’t you? You need to come so bad that you’re shaking. That feels good.”

  “Shut...” Teddy gasped and slowed. “Up.”

  Jim started rocking his hips, too. “Nah. Not gonna shut up. I want you to hear my voice. I want you to listen. I want you to do what I say.”

  That was important, and not because Jim liked to top, but because coyotes who didn’t listen sometimes got themselves killed. Teddy wasn’t a coyote, so it was even more important that he learned to heed. He needed to trust Jim and obey with no hesitation.

  Just in case.

  “Tighter,” he whispered. “Squeeze them tighter, and think about that head you’re touching being at your ass. Think about me pressing it against you and waiting for you to open up for me. I bet you’re so fucking tight I’d have to make you hold your cheeks apart.”

  Teddy gasped and dug his toes against Jim’s calves as if Jim were really entering him.

  But Jim didn’t need to. Right then, Teddy’s hand and his desperate tugs were enough.

  “Tighter. Harder. You’re not gonna hurt me.” He put his fist over Teddy’s and showed him what he needed. That sweet clench that hinted at pain.

  His body began to tense inch by inch, cock, then belly, then chest and arms, stunned by pleasure, and it was too late to chase th
at back, and he didn’t want to. Teddy needed to see what he did to Jim. He needed to see that Jim wasn’t squeamish about what Teddy could give him.

  Teddy’s grip constricted even more then, and Jim’s bloodless head fell back. That electric sensation shot through him again, waking up his core and setting off the avalanche he couldn’t stave off.

  “C-coming.” Jim’s breath faltered, but Teddy worked his hand faster and faster until, growling, Jim nudged it away.

  Hips thrusting into the water, Jim’s seed surged, and Teddy slipped his fingers around his own cock. He tugged once, and again, and, wanting to feel the pulse of his cock in his palm, Jim cupped him as Teddy shuddered, and then spent.

  “Fuck,” Teddy whispered, panting. Breathless.

  Jim didn’t try to talk. He wanted to see if Teddy tasted any different after he came. He smelled different. Musky and excited, and...sated, perhaps. That wasn’t a common state for coyotes, so Jim almost didn’t recognize it.

  He set his teeth into the side of Teddy’s neck, loving the firm resistance, savoring the taste of him. “Grab the soap from behind me,” he whispered when Teddy had all but turned into putty on his lap. Jim didn’t want to move. After all, his goal was for them to forge a fast connection, but if he got too comfortable, he’d fall asleep. “Lather me up. I’ll rinse under the shower and clean you, too.”

  Teddy’s nod came on a delay, but that was better than a no.

  Jim could get him faster in time. He could make him comply quicker. Train him to be more trusting. He had a lot of work ahead of him, but he didn’t mind doing it.

  After all, alphas who were afraid to put in the work were alphas who didn’t last.

  Wests always lasted.

  Chapter Five

  Teddy hitched up the waistband of the sweatpants he’d borrowed from Jim and let the other man nudge him into the pantry.

  It had taken them not one hour, but five to get downstairs. No sooner had Teddy dried off than Jim tugged him back to bed. The man had fallen asleep half on top of him in less than a minute.

  Teddy hadn’t minded. There were worse places to be than under Jim West.

  They woke to the sound of banging coming from the deck, and Jim had pushed up onto his forearms with his poorly dried hair mashed on one side. He’d looked down at Teddy as if he’d forgotten he was there, but before Teddy could open his mouth and say “I should go,” Jim leaned in and sputtered his lips against Teddy’s cheek. Then, shuffling into the closet, he’d asked if Teddy wanted a sandwich.

  Teddy had been too stunned to answer.

  “Bread,” Jim said. “Find it.”

  Teddy growled. “What do you mean, find it? How do you not know where bread is in your own pantry?”

  Out in the kitchen, Jim rattled some pots and pans and grunted. “I order groceries online a couple of times per week on the days the maid’s here. She puts stuff away.”

  Teddy rolled his eyes and grabbed the bread bag down from the top shelf. “Fuckin’ bread doesn’t belong up there.”

  The pantry was completely lacking in any discernible organization scheme. There were cans of soups and vegetables crowded onto every shelf instead of arranged onto one. Flour was on one tier. Sugar was on another. Spices were scattered throughout the small space. On a whim, Teddy nudged a soda box with his foot and confirmed that it was empty.

  He slid his free hair into his hair and groaned. “This is horrible.”

  “What?” Jim leaned into the doorway, holding a jar of mayonnaise.

  Teddy crooked his thumb toward the mess. “Does this make sense to you?”

  “No, but I’m sure the scheme was intentional on her part.”

  “Fire her.”

  “Then who’s gonna clean my house?”

  Teddy dragged a finger behind the door trim and showed Jim the dust it’d collected. “Who’s cleaning it now?”

  Jim huffed. “You don’t have to be so mean about it.”

  Teddy gaped. “I’m mean? All I did was point out that your maid is obviously getting paid to be a passive-aggressive wretch. My mother would have a cow if she found out someone was paying to have a house cleaned and it looked like this.”

  “It’s not that bad,” Jim said in a somewhat vexed tone.

  Teddy shrugged. “Does it smell bad? No. That’s a pretty low standard, and trust me—I live in a basement beneath a restaurant.”

  “How’d you end up there?”

  “It was all that was available that didn’t require a security deposit when I got here five years ago, and now I’m too complacent to move. My next move will be into the city, whenever I get a steady acting job. I stayed here this long because my vocal coach lives here. She thinks I’m ready to audition more aggressively.”

  “Does she, now?” Jim pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and stared for what was probably a minute.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.” Jim shrugged and walked to the counter. He set the mayo down and plugged in the sandwich press. “Fine. I’ll fire her the next time she’s here. She usually waits to come over until I leave the house, though. I should call her and see when she’s coming.”

  “No.” Teddy followed Jim to the counter and undid the ties on the bread bag. “Don’t call her. She’ll copy your key and probably rob you when she thinks you’ve forgotten about her. You go do what you’ve gotta do. Write her a severance check for two weeks’ work and also a neutrally worded reference letter, and I’ll meet her at the front door and give her both the next time she comes. I’ll get her key.”

  Jim cut him a sideways look. “You’d do that for me?”

  “Somebody has to, and obviously you’re no good at it. If this is how passive you are, I hope you’ve got a damn good manager at W. Company.” Realizing that what he’d said may have been slightly out of line, Teddy turned to him, nervous. Jim had been nice so far, but every man had a breaking point. He’d seen too many of them. “Listen, I—”

  “Don’t let her put a hex on you or anything,” Jim said. “I don’t trust her.”

  All Teddy could do was blink.

  “If her lips start moving, close the door and lock it. Stick the check through the mail slot or whatever, and let me worry about the key.”

  “Are you...serious?”

  Jim shrugged and turned up the heat on the press. “I do have a good manager at W. My dad hired him way back when, and he’s never let me down, either.”

  “Oh. That’s good.”

  “I’m not so great at delegating stuff, I guess, so if you could help me, I’d appreciate it.”

  Teddy waited for the punch line, but Jim seemed to have already moved on. He was leaning onto the counter and squinting at a laminated paper tacked onto the metal backsplash with a magnet. Teddy couldn’t make heads or tails of the diagram. The grid contained a few dozen squares with some numbers along the left and top. He was curious, but cautious. He didn’t make things his business until people invited him to, and apparently Jim had invited him to make his maid Teddy’s business.

  He cleared his throat and gave Jim’s belt loop a look-at-me tug. “Anyway, my mother would have a cow. I guess I inherited some of her neat freak compulsiveness. I’m sure you can find someone else.”

  Jim pulled his gaze away from the chart and slid it to Teddy. “Might take a while. She was a hasty mistake. I normally vet people better.”

  And yet I’m here?

  Teddy didn’t speak the question. Until the moment he’d opened his eyes in Jim’s bed and gazed at the other man’s humanizing messy hair, he hadn’t realized how much he’d wanted to be there. He missed having a community. He missed having people know him, and making connections had been hard in Chesteron. Teddy was always at work, or on the way to Manhattan or back from it. He had friends in the city, but he only saw the
m when he needed to crash on their sofas.

  Chesterton was supposed to have been a brief layover on his way to New York City. His acting coach was here and she’d said, “One year, Ted. Give me a year to get you ready.”

  It’d been five, but that wasn’t her fault. The stars hadn’t aligned for him to pack up and go, and neither had his bank account.

  Jamie let herself into the kitchen through the side door, dancing a rhythmless conga and cackling. “Got rid of them, Jimmy. At least for a while.”

  “Yeah?” Jim chuckled. “What’d you do to them?”

  “Sent them to Ithaca to pick up my misrouted suitcase. Airline finally found it.”

  “Yep. That’s a pretty good schlep from here. Good thinking.” He held out a fist, and Jamie obediently bumped it. “Are you going to be home for a while?”

  Jamie sighed wistfully. “For a few weeks, I hope. I’m sick of being on planes all the time.”

  “Do you work in sales?” Teddy asked her.

  “Nah. More like...” her eyes narrowed, “...social services.”

  “I didn’t realize that required much out-of-area travel.”

  “Usually doesn’t.” She cleared her throat and quickly averted her gaze.

  He knew that body language. He’d once played a character in a regional production who’d clear his throat before every change of subject. That character had too many secrets to name.

  “So, what are you making?” Jamie asked.

  Uh-huh. What are her secrets?

  “I don’t know about Teddy,” Jim said, “but I’m making a Dagwood sandwich. Anything I can find in the fridge is going in there. Olives. Banana peppers. Grey Poupon. Cucumber slices. You name it, I’ll eat it.”

  “I’m going with a little lighter, I think,” Jamie said. “I’m not super hungry after that heavy meal we had last night. I’m still digesting the sausage.”

  When she turned her back to Jim to fiddle with the cutting board, Jim, frowning for some reason, locked his stare on Teddy.

  Teddy reached out, slowly, and tugged Jim’s belt loop. “What’d I do?”

  Jim wrapped his fingers around Teddy’s and gave them a squeeze—not hard enough to break any bones, fortunately—and then he let go. “Nothing. My mind runs away sometimes.”