CHAPTER TWELVE

Officially Dating

Much to Max’s delighted horror, they pretty much started dating after that. It wasn’t discussed and they never used the word boyfriend. Labels made Max nervous. He labored under so many already: mage, sumage, gay, Placer, damaged, failure. Once the label came into play, that meant telling the outside world. And then, well, then, the wolf pack would get involved and Max really wasn’t ready for that.

They talked about other things instead. Mainly sex. Then they had a lot of sex. Turned out that discussing sex all too often led to engaging in it.

Bryan was pretty much game for anything, in a startlingly open way – figuratively and literally. There were butt plugs involved. With the excuse of needing to stretch and prep, Max brought out all his toys. Bryan’s eyes gleamed even as his cheeks flamed. They tested out nipple clamps (neither was really into those) and leather cuffs (a resounding yes from Max, take it or leave it from Bryan) and moved on to more adventurous anal play (big yes from both).

“See, babe, lots of lube and everything goes smoothly.” Max explained in a slightly pompous manner he hoped would keep the big guy relaxed.

“Very cute. I see what you did there.”

“And this is how it feels.” He pushed the small plug in very gently.

“Holy shit.”

“Not a good idea to bring up shit at this exact moment.”

Bryan was panting and distracted but clearly enjoying the experience.

What Max had really learned about his new lover was that Bryan’s need not to hurt was an entirely instinctive and overriding one. To the level where Max’s trust issues had morphed into issues around responsibility. For Bryan would do pretty much anything not to hurt him (well, not to hurt him in the wrong way – he was awesome about the right way) and that included both emotionally and physically. Max felt burdened by his werewolf’s well-being, a responsibility for Bryan’s emotional confidence. For while Max might worry about trust, Bryan did not. Not because he was somehow innocent, or stupid for not being jaded, but because he would rather dive headfirst into pain, and take the consequences, than cause suffering in another. Bryan might delight in modest domination sexually, but he would let Max take the lead in all other intimacies to the detriment of himself.

Max took full advantage of Bryan’s physical trust in the form of butt plugs, dildos, prostate wands, and fingering. The werewolf was happy to do pretty much anything so long as Max did it to him first, so he knew what it felt like, so he knew what to expect, so he could do it right on Max. Not that they liked exactly the same thing. But it was a jumping-off point.

So, they dated. Both of them wanting to see each other more than on prescribed weekends, but obeying the rules of society, which dictated slow and careful, at least outside of the sack.

Over the next few weeks, Bryan got himself a job, a pretty decent one too. By tacit agreement, they always ended up back at Max’s after a date. The pack’s absent hostess was letting them stay longer in the small apartment, Manifest Destiny’s contract in New York having been extended. But there was no privacy there even if Max was ready to meet the pack.

Max became frighteningly accustomed to the werewolf’s presence in his tiny space. A space that had for so long been solitary peace but which now, on the nights when his lover wasn’t there, was made lonely by absence. Bryan’s smell lingered. A small stock of tea accumulated in one cabinet. And, yes, it was that cabinet.

“That one is mine,” Bryan insisted.

“I haven’t even given you an underwear drawer yet, and you think you can stake a claim to part of my kitchen?”

“Yep. I don’t wear underwear, and if you want proof of entitlement, I’ll bend you right back over that counter.”

“Promises, promises.”

So, Bryan did.

Max ceded him some space within – on both counts. Bryan filled the one with weird fucking tea – no, not that, now who has a dirty mind? – and lots of meaty protein bars. He stuffed Max’s home full of a comforting silence, so that when he was gone, Max yearned for stupid things. Like the smell of Bryan’s stinky brown tea, or the thump of his heart under Max’s ear when they slept.

It might have continued just like that for a while, except Max had an encounter with a judge and got very, very drunk.

* * *

Biff pulled up at the regular time on Friday night, impossibly eager to see his sumage. Due to some taunting text messages that morning, he had put in a butt plug before the ride over. This, as it turned out, was both a horrible and a fantastic idea. The movement of the bike vibrated…well…everything, which was total torture. He was so keyed up, he could hardly walk. He tried for casual as he slid off his bike and swaggered up the stairs. Okay, it was more of a weak-kneed wobble, but it was a very manly wobble.

However, the moment he opened the door, he knew something was off. Max smelled as amazing as ever, but there was something else with it, something sour and strong. Alcoholic and not the normal spiced rum of Max’s arousal. This was actual alcohol – vodka, unless his nose was very off, which it never was. There was also a faint tinge of pine, which reminded Biff of something, but he couldn’t quite remember what. Then Max distracted him by listing to one side in a manner that suggested he was near to bar-brawling with gravity and gravity would win.

Biff pushed inside, grabbed Max’s hand, and dragged him to the tiny couch.

“What’s wrong?”

Max leaned against him and said in a singsong, “Now, why would you think anything is wrong, baby? Baby wolf. Cutest wolf. Cutest cock. Have I told you recently how much I love your cock?”

Biff tried to get him to sit down next to him in a calm and platonic manner, but several dates’ worth of immediate pouncing had set precedent. The sumage was basically crawling all over him. Max’s hand had discovered the results of the plug and was massaging the bulge in Biff’s jeans, sure and firm and exactly how they both liked it.

Biff removed his lover’s hand. “That’ll wait.”

Max actually pouted.

Biff really wanted to nibble on the trembling lower lip, but he didn’t take advantage of the inebriated, no matter how adorable. “You’re drunk.”

“Yes. Yes, I am.” Max spoke with precise mock seriousness. “It was nesh-ash-aary… Nesssssh… I needed to. Can you even get drunk?”

“Yes, but it takes formaldehyde.”

“Oh…kaaay.”

“Max, sweetie, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“How’d you know I didn’t go out with friends after work like a normal pershon?”

“You don’t have friends.”

“Harsh. But true. ’Cept there’s that crazy fox girl, still won’t shut up about her love life. And I like my boss. My boss is kewel.”

“You sharing our sex stories with a kitsune?”

“We don’t got nearly enough sex stories for her. Not yet. Why you ask? You afraid I’ll go bragging about this awesome spicy horse cock of yours?” Max was now fumbling, trying to open Biff’s fly.

Biff rolled his eyes, half in exasperation, half in arousal.

Biff did not help in any way but Max kept trying to start something. Meanwhile, he talked. Being drunk seemed to make him even more loquacious than normal. “I may have said a little something to Gladdy. We’re having so much fun – you and I, not me and Gladdy, because ew – and you’re so sexy even without that cock. Not that I like the idea of you without a cock, yuck. I’m sorry to say I don’t think you’d make a very attractive woman. Although that tongue of yours could make me straight. I mean, if you were a woman, I guess your name would be Bryanna… What was I saying? Talking to Gladdy – her hair was blue today – anyway, it’s kind of like this shifter pissing contest and you, my wolfie, got something worth pissing with…as it were. So, I’ve been bragging a bit, you know, about the big delicious dick. As you do.”

“Max, why are you drunk?”

“Met that dumb judge today.”

“Oh, yes?”

“They one who’s been hounding me. Asshat.”

Long pause while Max apparently gave up on the zipper of Biff’s jeans and leaned against him instead, nuzzling his neck. “You know you smell good to me too? All manly. Not like I smell to you, I don’t think. But goooood.”

“Max, the judge?”

“Dickwad. Surge. Works upstairs. Been trying to see me for weeks. I avoided him because, you know, I figured…”

“What’d you figure?”

“That he’s one of Daddy Dearest’s cronies.”

“And?”

“I met him. And he is.” Max stopped nibbling at Biff’s neck and sighed, brushing his smooth cheek against Biff’s scruffy one, as if it were some weird abrasive comfort.

“Douche?” Biff inquired gently.

“The douchiest.”

“What’d he want from you?”

“An invitation over here.”

“Why?”

“To hash out the good old days? To get into my pants? Who the fuck knows. Scared the shit out of me, though. I don’t like them types. You know, Surges.” Max’s breath was unsteady and he almost seemed to be trembling. Fear or cold? Biff wrapped his arms around him, surrounding him in comfort and warmth.

“Max, what did your dad do to you?” Biff’s own youth, all trailer parks and screaming and fists, didn’t seem so bad compared with whatever it was about Max’s father that made him shake.

Max slumped, a gorgeous drunken mess of long limbs and old pain. “Everything.” He rubbed his nose into Biff’s shirt collar, as if he wanted to crawl in under the cotton and curl up against him, like a kitten. “Hand and heart and mind, all the places, a perfect abusive trifecta. I did see a shrink. It sucks, but I did deal with it. I’m not stupid. Well, not stupid in that way. If Daddy taught me nothing else, it was that finding a profess-sh-ional” – he stumbled over the word, then gave up and soldiered on – “and throwing money at a problem is usually an adequate solution.” He blew a raspberry. “Boy, I’m a jaded cow. Don’t go all awkward on me, okay? The past isn’t something you can fix, wolfie, but now you’ll want to fix it ’cuz that’s what you do.”

Biff sighed and leaned back so Max could drape over him like a duvet with elbows and knees. He stroked floppy silken hair back from bleary blue eyes. The man nestled into his touch. He was almost as slutty for petting as a werewolf when he forgot to be wary.

“So, this judge called you into his office at work?”

“Yeah.”

Biff started running his hands up and down Max’s back, soothing, long strokes. His lover relaxed against him. Still crazy with booze and hurt, but a little more present as Biff’s caress grounded him. Biff coaxed, gently guiding the conversation.

“He wanted to come home with you.”

“Yeah.”

“He after the house?”

“Oh. Right. Maybe. You mean like before?”

“I mean like the same man?” Now he remembered that pine smell of bankers and money. “He smelled of pine-scented aftershave, and you do too, right now.” Biff stiffened. “Did he touch you?”

“Judge and Mr Gay-Ball? Oops, Gray-Ball. Gay-Ball is totally a different thing. Dude! I should totally break the enchantment on that shit-hole and open up the house and throw a big gay ball. Daddy Dearest would roll in his grave. Except, of course, no grave. I had the fucker cremated and scattered on the ocean. I ain’t putting up with no asshole ghost.”

“So, was it the same guy?” Biff tried desperately to keep his lover on topic, but the man really was an impossible drunk. An impossibly sexy, cute-as-a-button, constantly off-topic drunk.

“I guess so. But why try again?” Max leaned back to look at him, writhing against Biff’s still-hard cock in a thoughtful manner. He was sounding a little more sober. As though discussing plots and evil purposes made it easier to cope with a judge asking questions.

“Perhaps he thinks you could get him inside.”

“I probably could.”

Biff felt himself stiffen in shock. Max thought he could break an enchantment? An enchantment that strong?

Max was frowning in thought. “I’d need a coven of sumages. Can you imagine such an absurd thing? But I bet I could do it. The other Placer would be hard to find. Except, of course, my dad died. So his part of the spell is gone. Might only need the one Placer…me.”

Biff stroked him. “That wise?”

“Frankly, I don’t think there’s anything inside there. I think old Dad was just a spiteful bastard. He put out that there was something valuable in that house and then died so that everyone would be all anxious about it, and I would be stuck dealing with turd-nubbin’ Surges trying to get inside for the rest of my life. Dad was a real charmer.”

“How’d he die, Max?”

“Cancer. Can you believe it? Strongest civic mage of his generation and…”

Silence for a long moment, then Biff said gently, still stroking Max’s back, “You want to talk about it?”

“Fuck, no. I want to ride that horse cock of yours until I forget about everything concerning my life that the vodka didn’t wash away.”

“Sure you do.” Biff didn’t shift positions and he didn’t stop petting, despite the fact that his libido thought this was a fantastic idea. Stupid butt plug.

“You aren’t gonna let me, are you?”

“Maybe later when your judgment’s not impaired.”

“Why you gotta be so chivalrous?”

“You’re already not slurring as bad as you were. Maybe in an hour or so.”

“A whole hour!” Max pressed an equally rock-hard cock against Biff’s stomach and hip, grinding in a jerky, desperate way. “You texted you’d put a plug in, so I did too. Plus, booze makes me horny.”

“You should have thought of that before you decided to get beyond the drunk of consent.”

“You’re a jerk,” Max whined, wiggling some more.

Biff grabbed Max’s hips with both big hands in an iron grip. This man may, in fact, be the death of me.

“Be still, Trouble. What else about this judge?”

Max sighed and then shifted to a more comfortable position. (Probably because of the plug, and now that Biff knew about that, his cock had started leaking in delight – nobility was getting mighty awkward. And sticky.) How much do I want to run my fingers down over his perfect ass and just jiggle it a little? Oh, shit. Stop.

Max seemed to take Biff’s insistence on staying on topic as a flashback to grade-school instruction. He recited in the singsong voice of a petulant student, “He’s the new savage court judge, Rassolnik. Surge. Came for dinner once or twice back in the day, with dear old Dad. Not from these parts. Think maybe he was in the army with Daddums way back. So, now he’s assigned to Civic Center, same as me – hooray! – and kept pestering my boss to send me up. I resisted long as I could.”

“And?”

“Well, he didn’t ask a lot about the house, but he sure asked a lot about me. If I didn’t know he was straight, I’d have thought he was interested.”

Biff tried to damp down the spike of possession. That kind of thing was ridiculous when Max clearly was totally invested in jumping his bones. It was some dumb, ingrained werewolf thing that he’d have to keep control over. “How’d you know he was straight?”

“Same way I knew you weren’t.”

“I thought I surprised you.”

“Okay, yeah, mostly you’re one big surprise. I like it, though. I was getting complacent. And lonely. Oops, shouldn’t have said that. You’ll think me desperate.”

“I think you’re perfect and you know it. Stop fishing.”

“Bryan…”

Man, why do I love it so much that he calls me by my real name?

“Yes, Maximillian?”

“How come you never say much?”

“Don’t have much to say.”

“I don’t get that.”

“Obviously.”

“Bryan?”

“Yes, Trouble?”

“I like Trouble better.”

“Than Maximillian?”

“Yeah. I never had a lover use a pet name with me. Not so as you’d notice. Never had a lover stick around, either. Why you sticking around?”

Because I’m in love with you. “Because you let me.”

“You could do so much better. Is it because I’m easy? Is it because I’m your first and you don’t know better? Is it because I feed you?”

You’ve got more family issues then any man I’ve ever met. You’re more hurt and more scared. I can’t keep my hands off you. And right now, you’re draped all over me and I’m trying like hell not to screw your brains out because that would be taking advantage and you think you’re easy?

“You’re not easy, baby. You’re difficult. Fortunately, I like a challenge.”

Max looked confused, then willful. “Do you think you might like to be permanently challenged?”

“Yep.” Biff didn’t even bother to dissemble. Like he’d bothered to look at another man since he met Max. Like Max’s scent didn’t haunt his dreams. Like he didn’t get himself off thinking about this man in his arms. Like there was another option. Except he couldn’t just up and tell the drunk mage: Look, sweetheart, I’ve been yours since the moment I licked your ass. It’s kinda a wolf thing. Not yet, anyway.

Max let out a long, shaky breath. His blue eyes were less cloudy now and his posture more rigid.

Biff took the risk. “We boyfriends, then?”

Max’s face went oddly still. “Yeah.”

“You’ll have to meet my pack.”

“Yeah.” Max looked properly horrified. “I can’t believe you want to introduce me to the in-laws.”

Biff shrugged. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.”

“No. It’s all right. It’s just that I’ve never had to deal with, well, family. None of my other lovers ever wanted to take the risk. I kinda suck at family. Obviously.”

“I think your family just kinda sucked. Pack’s not the same – it’s more like friends.”

“Except that your younger brother is your Alpha.”

“There is that.”

“Bryan.” Uh-oh, Max is getting very serious. Drunken serious, but still serious. “Boyfriend.” Mmm, that was nice. “You gotta give me some preparation before we do this.”

“Bet you say that to all the boys.”

Max grinned. “Very good.”

“I’m learning from the mouth of greatness.”

“Flatterer. Now tell me what to expect. Tell me something about your pack.”

“You gonna remember this in the morning?”

“I am so not that drunk!”

“Okay.” Biff struggled with where to begin. How could he possibly explain his crazy pack? He barely understood how they existed.

Silence.

Max sighed. “Start with Alec. How did he, well, happen?”

Biff paused. Thinking of a way to put it. He wasn’t embarrassed about his brother, although Alec was kinda geeky weird. How to explain what they were to each other?

“I knew even before he was bitten. I knew Alec was my Alpha. It’s not supposed to go that way.”

Max seemed genuinely interested. His eyes were now focused on Biff’s face. “It isn’t?”

“Werewolves never know if a pack kid will survive a bite. We’ve tried genetic testing, but it seems to be more complicated than that. Everything is when quintessence is involved.”

“Especially the savage kind.”

Biff nodded and continued. “No one should ever know what rank they’ll be when still a child. But I knew. I knew before my bite and I knew before Alec’s. So, I looked after him when we were kids. ’Cause he’s not a big guy. He’s tall and lean, like you. Pretty like you. Gay like you. I figured that’s why I was born so big, to compensate. Maybe why I’m gay too, so I’d understand.”

“You think your whole existence is built to balance your brother?”

“That’s what Beta means.”

“Here I was thinking you were built like this because it’s perfect for me.”

“Yeah?”

“Now who’s fishing. So…the rest of the pack?”

“They’re good guys. They fit well with Alec. Lemme see. You’ve met Marvin.”

“He’s pretty.”

“Very.”

“And chatty.”

“You’d know nothing about that.”

“I like him.”

“Most people do.”

“Who else?”

“Well, we got the two enforcers. Judd’s bigger than me, black guy, handsomest wolf you ever saw. I think he’s got a thing for Colin, might be why he joined the pack. He was a loner before.”

“Colin?”

“Colin Mangnall. Our littlest one. I think he had it rough at home. Not as rough as you, but bad. He doesn’t talk about it and he doesn’t like to be touched. His older brother is Kevin, our other enforcer. Also big.”

Max gave him a questioning look.

“Werewolves mostly come in size extra-large, babe. Kev’s straight. We think he joined us to get Colin out. It’s what I’d do.”

Max nodded against him. Biff took that as permission to speak more. He didn’t mind talking about his pack. Or he minded it less than talking about anything else. He was proud of their little group. They were strong, for such a small pack. They were decent guys, and different from other werewolves, and he liked that. He thought they could become a safe haven for other gay wolves. It’d be nice. Hell, I didn’t know I felt that way. I better make sure Alec is on the same page.

“Last, there’s Tank and Lovejoy. Lovejoy’s also straight. I think he came along because he wanted excitement. Didn’t fit in with Boston. He’s pretty flamboyant.”

“You sure he’s a breeder?”

Biff shrugged. “It happens. Think of Italy.”

“And the last one?”

“Tank. He’s huge, hence the name. Looks meaner than hell but is a giant softie. Not sure where he falls in the scheme of things. He came along because he wanted to, and no one’s capable of stopping him.”

Max took a small breath and said, shaky, “They nice?”

“They are.”

“Will they give me a hard time?”

“They will.”

“Christ, Bryan, you could sugarcoat it.”

“What good would that do? You’re drunk enough for truth.”

“Thanks. I think.”

Biff went in for the kill. “Speaking of, you’re gonna let me help you with your judge problem.”

“I am?”

“Boyfriend, remember?”

“Okay.”

That was easier than I expected.

Max was wiggling against him again. His breath was hot on Biff’s neck. His teeth, square white and oh so human, nibbled down and along Biff’s collarbone.

Biff smiled. “I’m still not fucking you until you’re sober.”

“Tease.”