Fox and Wolf

by Julia Talbot

  Dylan walked straight up to him, and Rey’s lips parted like someone had pushed a blowjob button.

  This was the craziest thing he’d ever done, and recently he’d had two brushes with crocodilian death. Still, how often did a beautiful man offer him his cock?

  He rather hoped Dylan would do it a lot. Right now was good, though. He dragged his tongue over Dylan’s slit, gathering up the salty goodness. He’d discovered a real talent for sucking Dylan last night.

  “Mmm. Oh, Rey.” Dylan’s moan was low in pitch, but heavy in intensity. “I…. Don’t stop, sweet one. I ache for you.”

  There was no way he would stop now, but the praise felt amazing.

  He hummed, wanting to add vibration, to let Dylan know how happy he was. Dylan went up on tiptoe, rocking in a slow roll. Someone liked that. A lot.

  Dylan slid one hand over the back of his head, cupping it, drawing him down on that heavy cock.

  Rey closed his eyes, letting Dylan guide him. This was pure pleasure for both of them. Soft words poured down on him, praise and need, and it made him dizzy. Those hard fingers were so gentle in his hair, asking instead of demanding. It was the strangest thing—this weird peace in a maelstrom of insanity. He needed it so bad, and he would get what he could.

  Dylan did that. Rey had taken lovers before, but none of them could calm him with a touch. He really felt as if they were meant to be together, a hope he tamped down on as soon as he felt it. This was just stress, but he would take it.

  “Yeah, we’re good here, safe. I swear.”

  He nodded slightly. Not enough that his teeth dug in or anything, but enough that Dylan would feel him, know he was listening.

  “Sweet. Oh, Rey, that’s sweet. More.” Dylan was rumbling, almost growling. The fine tension he could feel in Dylan’s thighs told him he wasn’t the only one affected by the tense situation they’d had.

  More. He groaned softly and nibbled, teeth barely dragging on Dylan’s flesh.

  Dylan moaned far louder, starting to move faster and fuck his lips, pressing into him with need. They rocked together, Rey gripping Dylan by the hips, opening wide so that Dylan could take him, hold him. He would mourn the loss of that flavor. Of Dylan’s scent.

  “Just focus on right now, honey. I have this. You.”

  “Mmm.” Dylan could have anything he wanted. Anything at all.

  He took Dylan down to the root and began to swallow, over and over, one hand cupping the soft balls.

  Dylan did growl then, the scent of musk intensifying. Dylan came for him, hot stuff sliding down his throat, and he took it. Every drop. He cleaned Dylan’s sensitive cock, tongue lashing the shaft.

  “Fuck.” Dylan pulled away, then dropped to the floor on his knees. “Now you, honey.”

  He gasped, surprised. Why he hadn’t thought that Dylan would touch, he didn’t know. He’d been totally focused on his wolf, on creating pleasure to get past the fear he’d felt.

  Dylan chuckled, opening Rey’s clothes, tugging out his cock. “Want this.”

  “Yours. I mean, you can have me.”

  Dylan looked up, meeting his eyes with that green gaze, which held only intense desire. No surprise or hesitation. “Mine.”

  Rey nodded, caught in Dylan’s look.

  Dylan stroked him, hand working him slowly, the pattern mesmerizing. Yes, he was Dylan’s, lock, stock, and barrel.

  “That’s right, Rey. Every inch.”

  “Yes.” He breathed hard, his lips parted. God, watching that made him even harder.

  Dylan curled the fingers of his free hand, tapping his hole, teasing him.

  His toes drew up, his belly pulling in. “Harder.”

  “Yes.” The tapping became a tiny sting.

  He caught his breath, his eyes wide. Oh heavens.

  Dylan chuckled softly and shook his head, murmuring, “You’re beautiful.”

  “I—am I? Thank you.” He had no idea what he was right now. Just a ball of need. Oh, such need. His body felt tight, hot, his balls heavy.

  Dylan began to stroke him, faster, harder, the touches making his heart flutter. He dug his heels into the floor beneath the cot, his whole self straining to get more of Dylan’s touch.

  “Good. Good man.” Dylan stared down at his cock, his own hand.

  “I—please. Dylan, please. I need.” Asscheeks clenching, he panted, his chest heaving.

  “Come for me, sweetheart. Let me have it.”

  “I—oh yes.” Sweetheart. Such a lovely combination of words, one no one had ever said to him before. Rey shot, his come spreading over Dylan’s hand. He shook with the sensations, his balls aching, his heart racing violently.

  Dylan eased his touch, relaxing his hand, which was utterly necessary because his prick immediately became sensitive as hell. He needed to come down a little, to rest. Everything was such a whirlwind.

  “Shh, honey. Breathe. Rest.”

  “But….”

  “We’re going to just hang out up here until the locals leave.” Dylan carefully cleaned him off, then tucked him back into his pants. Dylan rose, only to pull on sweats and a T-shirt, then join him on the cot. “Let me hold you, huh?”

  “Please.” He didn’t understand what was happening between them, how this connection happened. He’d heard of wolves mating for life and such, but never once had he heard of a fox and wolf doing the same thing. Maybe, if he were very lucky….

  He wasn’t sure he could understand, but he knew Dylan was quickly becoming the most important thing in his life.

  “Shhh. Do all foxes think as much as you do?”

  “I think so, yes. That’s why I’m good at—” He yawned and stretched. “—at what I do.”

  “Ah. I’m just well-trained.”

  “Mmm. Wolves are pack animals. You read body language and facial expressions better than any other mammal save primates. So you have both.” He patted Dylan’s chest.

  “My smart little mate,” Dylan whispered.

  “Hmm?” Rey blinked slowly, steadily, the soothing touches sending him down into his dreams, where the word mate was the best thing ever.

  Chapter Six

  DYLAN LAY staring at the ceiling, hardly able to believe what he’d just said.

  It was true, though. So true. Rey was his mate. Just…. Wow.

  Mick was going to kill him.

  Not only because of the whole “It’s been less than twenty-four hours” thing, but because of the whole “Good Lord, he’s a client” thing.

  And a fox.

  Dylan always figured he had two strikes against him finding a mate. He was gay, and he was a gay wolf. The pack had to accept anyone he would find, and back when he’d been a rookie cop, those strikes kept him from even looking for anyone.

  Luckily, his pack these days had a bear, two cats, and a Mick.

  He watched Rey rest, the dark auburn hair just barely tipped with white. The man’s features were sharp—nose and chin, cheekbones.

  So lovely.

  All he could do was smile and stroke Rey’s hair until the knock came at his office door.

  He rolled away, padded to the outer office, and let in Mick.

  “Hey, boss. How’d it go?” Mick didn’t look murderous, so it had to have gone okay with the crocs as well as the cops.

  “They got away.”

  “Shit. I mean, what else was gonna happen. No one wants to take on a croc.” Not even him. Those things scared the fuck out of him.

  “This room smells like sex, Dylan.” Mick stared at him, then at the back office.

  “Yep.” He, in turn, stared Mick down, willing him to drop it.

  “Huh. We’re going to have a long talk once this job is done, buddy.”

  Of that he had no doubt, but he could take what Mick dished out. The guy had a lot of bluster, but he cared.

  “Got it. Look, I have no idea—”

  Mick cut him off. “Rey was telling me there was a business guy. High mucky-muck from India.”

  “India?
Who?”

  “Ask your guy,” Mick snapped.

  “He’s sleeping.”

  “Goddamn it, Dylan—”

  “Look, we can all sit and hash this shit out together. James can do on the moment research. But we need rest, and we need to figure out how to keep Rey safe. Okay?”

  “How the fuck did the crocs find him? They weren’t at the safe house, right?” Mick crossed his arms over his chest.

  “No. His car is here, though. I think they were playing averages. Does James have eyes on the car?”

  “He does. He snuck it in when the cops were distracting everyone, including anyone who might be watching.” Mick looked utterly satisfied by that. “I did a good thing, hiring the kitty.”

  “About that.”

  “We’ll see about the fox, man. Are you hungry?” Mick’s dark eyes flashed with deep want for food.

  “Oh my God, starving.”

  “Come on. Burgers downstairs.” Mick opened the door, pointing out with his chin.

  “I need shoes.” Dylan headed back to his mate, not wanting Rey to freak out waking up alone. “Honey, I’m going downstairs to get some food. Do you want anything?”

  Rey murmured something unintelligible, then curled up, gone soft and fuzzy.

  Okay. He kissed his nose, then headed back out to Mick. “Burgers.”

  “Burgers.” He went down with Mick, his belly growling loud enough to hear. It was all the sex, all the shifting, all the damn crocs were enough to make him feel like he was starving.

  All the time.

  Mick hadn’t had sex, he reckoned, but the adrenaline was real. Kit was probably eating the whole office.

  “Is your fox okay? I grabbed him pretty hard.” Speaking of Kit, the question was soft, worried, their bear so gentle.

  “He’s small.” Dylan winked. “He’s worn out. Sleeping. But he’s okay.”

  “Crocs.” Brock spat out the word, his grumpy kitty face on in full force. “What the fuck?”

  “Right? Who did he piss off?” James shook his blond head. “Those things move fast.”

  “He was saying something about an Indian businessman. Bad business practices.” Mick was stuck on that, repeating it to all and sundry.

  “Yeah?” James perked up from his boneless kitty slump in the corner. “I might could dig something up on that angle.”

  “I bet you could. We just need to know who,” Mick grumbled. “Dylan won’t ask.”

  “Well, he’s asleep.” Dylan snapped it out, and all his guys looked right at him, eyebrows raised.

  It was Kit that started sniffing, big head tilting.

  “Stop it.” Dylan glared at Kit, who raised both hands in a clear gesture of surrender.

  “Right. Nose off.” Kit’s smile never turned the least bit mocking.

  “Thank you. All of you keep your noses to yourselves.” The last thing he needed was his colleagues all weighing in on his thing with Rey.

  He and Rey needed to figure out what exactly was going on first. Then he might entertain the guys’ remarks. But probably not.

  “He’s a client, Dylan. That’s all I’ll say.” Mick gave him an impartial glare.

  “I know. I’m not sorry.” He wasn’t about to apologize for his mate. No way.

  Rey was everything to him already. Such a short time, but he knew for sure he would protect Rey with every ounce of strength in him. Even from his team, his pack.

  “Okay, as long as we’re all clear.” Mick’s answer surprised him.

  Brock’s “Really, Wolfy? A fox?” didn’t.

  “I’m not sure what you have against foxes,” Dylan said. “But leave mine out of it.”

  “Yours. Meu Deus.” Brock rolled his eyes. “Okay, well, we’re kind of at a dead end until you let us talk to him.”

  “I doubt it. James?”

  “Huh?” James started, then shook his head. “Well, no facial recognition on the crocs. I mean, no one expected there to be, right? Dire crocs are few and far between, though, so I did some searching. There was a murder two months ago. The one eyewitness swore the killer was a crocodile. Cops were plain old humans and didn’t buy it. They thought their witness was on drugs.”

  Hell, Dylan would bet the witness thought he was on drugs too.

  James’s faint grin said he was thinking the same thing. “Anyway,” James went on, “the best I can do is follow the po-po investigation, but you guys know how productive that is.”

  “He told me some info on his other jobs—something about a software company being bought out by a company in India.”

  “Are you talking about WiseEyes?” James perked up. “You didn’t say that before. You just said Indian CEO.”

  “I just remembered. And he didn’t give me any names.” Dylan spread his hands, knowing getting defensive did him no good.

  “Yeah, but that one was a big deal.” James pursed his lips, that brain just working almost visibly. Sometimes James was like the computers he loved so much. “I’m surprised that someone low-level would get that job.”

  “Maybe that was the point,” Mick said. “Someone thought Rey could fly under the radar?”

  “Yeah.” James tapped his fingers on the table as if he was typing. “Man, let me do a little research, but… this may be bigger than we thought.”

  “Shit.” Mick waggled a brow. “It feels pretty big now. Where’s my burgers?”

  Dylan grinned. Food was their way of coming together.

  “We’re all secure in here,” Kit said with a shudder. “They can’t get in, right?” Their bear was so sensitive to smell, the crocs had really gotten to him.

  “Not now, no. We’re locked down, certo.” Brock said it with such surety that no one questioned him. The guy was former black ops. They all trusted his judgment.

  “Good. We’ll just stick together, get to the bottom of this.” Dylan nodded sharply.

  “Yep.” Kit started handing out burgers. “Mmm.”

  They all fell on the food—this was comfort, safety, abundance that soothed the frightened animal inside. They were all apex predators, but a croc could tear them apart and they all knew it.

  A bask of them? They had no chance whatsoever.

  Maybe if they had a hippo shifter….

  Dylan began to laugh, the sound rusty even to him.

  Mick looked over to him. “Maybe for Christmas?”

  He always thought Mick was a little psychic, knowing what Dylan was thinking with no hint of any kind of mate bond at all. “Yeah. Maybe.”

  “Quê?” Brock scowled. “Stop it. I’m trying to eat. No wolfpack in-jokes.”

  “I like hippos. Can I have a burger, please? I’ll pitch in.” Rey stood in the doorway to the lounge, hair standing up in copper tufts.

  Dylan smiled at Rey, who was a little blinky but smiling back at him.

  “Sure, man. Come on and sit.” Kit waved Rey to a chair, then assembled another burger. “You get some rest? That adrenaline rush is killer.”

  “Yes. Thank you. I was disconcerted, I guess.” Disconcerted and well-loved.

  “Uh-huh.” Brock curled his upper lip.

  “Don’t make me beat you, kitty,” Mick said. “Be nice.”

  Brock batted his long black lashes. “But it’s been so long, patrão.”

  Rey looked between them, snorted. “Promises, promises.”

  “Oh ho!” James slapped the table. “He does have teeth.”

  Rey snapped his teeth together like he had at Dylan early on. “People are often surprised.”

  Dylan reached for Rey, wanting to make sure he wasn’t worried. As soon as he touched, he felt the waves of amusement coming off his lover.

  He gasped, his eyes crossing. Was this real? This… connection? Damn. Could he really feel that, or was it wishful thinking?

  “Hey, earth to Dylan. Here’s your burger.” Kit handed him a plate.

  “Thanks. We can share, Rey. Then get another one.”

  “Someone else will have to take a turn cooking,
” Kit said. “Soon.”

  “Do you cook, Rey?” Dylan asked. He was curious to know everything about Rey. Every weird fact.

  “I do okay. I can follow a recipe.”

  “Cool.” Kit grinned. “You can man the pan after you eat.”

  “Kit!” Dylan glared.

  “What? If you can cross the client line….” Kit winked at Rey, though, inviting him to share the joke, so Dylan didn’t snarl.

  “At this point we’re all targets, and I’m so sorry.” Rey pulled in, hands in his lap, shoulders rounded.

  “Bah.” Mick waved a hand. “Most excitement we’ve had since that gazelle was being hunted by the African lion. Remember that, guys? Very Disney villain.”

  “Ah yes. There was much chewing of the scenery.” Kit laughed softly. “I got to work that one.”

  “You did great, kiddo.” Mick grabbed Kit for a hug, then took a burger. “Let me eat, and I’ll cook the next round.”

  “Thanks, boss.” The look Kit gave Mick was pure hero worship, and Dylan felt a pang for the guy. Mick was so oblivious sometimes, seeing Kit only as a kid brother.

  Rey looked between the two, and Dylan felt the curiosity, the wicked little buzz of wonder.

  He winked, and Rey ducked his head, chuckling.

  “Deus, does everyone have ESP but me?” Brock snarled, and for a moment his jaguar face was transposed over his human one. “I’m going to my office.”

  Rey looked at Brock, then beamed over. “God, you’re lovely.”

  Brock blinked, his human face evincing shock. “Uh. Thanks.”

  “Combat makes Brock grumpy,” Kit said.

  “Everything makes Brock grumpy,” James countered. “Stay and eat, dummy. We love you too.”

  “Shut up, pussy cat.” Brock sat, though, and Dylan thought their resident grumpy cat looked pleased.

  Silly man. They were a team. Brock was just—well, he was having a long dry spell.

  A long dry spell and a bad experience.

  When one of their own got hurt, none of them forgot it.

  Rey hummed, a weird, foxy little sound, before getting up to give Brock a hug. The expression on Brock’s face was just like a cat that had been picked up and hugged tight.

  Okay, that was adorable. Possibly the cutest thing ever.