CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Drunken Shenanigans

Max knew he was being sloppy all over Bryan. He also knew his werewolf was a rock of tolerance and patience. He’s so sweet. He’s also so hard. And I wanted to be balls deep inside him for the first time tonight. Then I had to get drunk instead.

“I think it’s time I fucked you.”

“Well, I’m certainly prepared now.” Bryan’s voice was gruff and he squirmed in clear discomfort.

Oh, yeah, butt plug. Poor baby. “Then after, maybe you could fuck me?”

“You’d like it?”

“Oh, yeah.” Max liked it both ways but he loved to be filled. With the right man, it was glorious. That stretch and pressure, and the nudge against his prostate. He had an idea that Bryan might be the right man. But he knew Bryan wouldn’t fuck him first.

Max was starting to actually sober up. The fuzziness was draining away and the urge to say absolutely everything that crossed his mind was diminishing. Like most mages, it didn’t take much alcohol to tip him over, but the effects wore off quickly.

The werewolf, still shifting his hips uncomfortably, moved the conversation on to Max’s coworkers. Max found himself saying lots of kind things about them. Which was a real shock. Guess I’m not totally sober yet.

Max interrupted his own long story about Jenny, one of the nicer Pinchers, with that thought. “I want you to know that I know that when I’m tipsy, my mouth goes in a different direction from normal. I’m nice. It’s horrible.”

Bryan rubbed his laugh into Max’s cheek. “You keep complimenting people.”

“It’s humiliating. I get all friendly and cuddly.”

“Mmm.” The werewolf didn’t seem to know what do to with him. He kept them settled on the couch while Max leaned into all that solid warmth. He clearly didn’t want to start anything until he knew Max was capable of consent. Which was sweet but frustrating. Max loved tipsy sex. I’ll have to give him permission when I’m totally sober, because oh my goodness, wouldn’t that be fun? Still, I might as well ride my inhibitions.

“You aware how hot you are, Muscles?” Max reached up and began threading his fingers through Bryan’s hair, staring deeply into the other man’s hazel eyes.

Bryan didn’t say anything to that. But then, how was that any different from normal? He did look…what? Embarrassed, disbelieving.

“No one ever told you? What about that wife of yours?”

Shame caught the tops of Bryan’s cheeks with pink slashes. “Leave Pam out of it.”

That kinda hurt. Like Bryan would protect his ex-wife over his own feelings, over his own ego.

Max drilled two fingers into the center of the man’s solid chest. “You’re crazy hot. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

“No one’s ever told me one way or the other.”

“See, idiots. The world is full of idiots.” Max cast his arms up in a dramatic flail.

“You’re still drunk.”

“I’m mostly just tipsy now. And since we are establishing facts here, you’re hot. See how easy that is?”

“Babe, give it a rest for a moment.” Bryan’s hands were strong against him, urging him to fold back over him, just be the blanket, float on his muscles.

Max sighed and, despite his aching need, did as his boyfriend wished.

* * *

They dozed off cuddled on the tiny couch.

Biff had no idea how they managed it but they did. He awoke so goddamn turned on he could hardly think, partly because his boyfriend (how awesome was that statement?) was awake and petting him and partly because of that torture device otherwise known as a butt plug. I must have been tired to sleep with it still inside me.

Said boyfriend was also, apparently, sober because he was making very quick work of Biff’s clothes in a non-fumbling way. Biff tilted his hips up so Max could get his jeans off easily. Groaning as that shifted the plug up against his overstimulated prostate.

The little flirt made sure to glide his fingers over Biff’s ass, dip in, and jiggle it further.

Biff nearly came off the damn couch. He nearly plain old came.

“You’re awake.” Biff gasped out the words, trying to sound casual and not needy.

“And sober.” Max’s voice was equally rough and panting, and his blue eyes were dilated but focused. “I’m going to take this thing out of you now.”

“Thank god.” The torture was finally going to end.

“And put my cock in its place.”

“Promises.”

“I’ll make it good.”

“More promises.”

Max pulled out the plug, smooth and slow, and Biff felt relieved and empty at the same time. Then, with swift sure movements, Max stood up and took off his own clothing.

Biff just lay there like a naked idiot and stared. He’d never get accustomed to how beautiful the man was. He knew Max was shy about his scars, but Biff had come to see them as more a pattern over his lover’s skin. As if Max had been climbed by silver vines, or tattooed by lightning. Biff was sad that they represented so much pain, but they weren’t a turnoff. They were just another part of Max. And man, he was so into Max. Every part of him, even the scars.

Max was now naked and determined. Biff had a feeling he was in for a world of teasing. He knew Max was worried about this being his first time, and a worried Max could keep things going for hours. Biff was pretty darn certain he couldn’t last that long.

Time to move things along.

Biff stood and walked to the bed, getting on his hands and knees, grateful that Max was all legs and would be tall enough.

The world went still for a long moment.

Then Max was on him, over him, against him. “Jesus, how you look just kneeling there waiting for me. I can’t… Fuck…”

His hands and mouth were everywhere. Biff hung his head, widened his legs and weathered the storm of touching. He shook slightly, not from fear but from anticipation. Or torture.

It sure was torture. Max wouldn’t let him do anything. “Just like that, babe, just stay like that. Let me? Please?”

And because Biff could no more resist a plea from his mouthy mage than he could an order from his Alpha, he did as requested. He stayed still and pliant on all fours.

Max touched him and kissed him and nibbled him. He slid long, well-lubed fingers inside, brushing over Biff’s prostate, first one, then two, then three, making Biff see shafts of jagged light against this eyelids (when had he closed his eyes?). He imagined that it was like the opposite of trace lines, his skin fracturing in pleasure.

Biff felt contorted by contrasts, eager and cautious, powerful and powerless, beyond the borders of himself and yet totally now, now, now. His cock twitched and wept with every stroke, every touch. I’ve turned into a goddamn faucet. He heard a needy whimpering and realized it was him. He should be ashamed, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but what Max was doing.

Until Max eased his fingers out and draped his long, perfect body over Biff, and gently, way too slowly, pressed his cock inside.

Biff basically lost it. There might have been swear words. Maybe a long, keening whine of sheer need. Max stilled instantly, afraid he’d hurt him. Biff wanted to yell at him that not only was he big and very strong, he was a goddamn shifter, who self-healed! But he had no words, so he just bucked back against Max’s invasion.

Max took that as the permission it was – thank god – and began to thrust. So slowly. Too slowly. Lighting up all those glowing fractured lines. Pressing them slowly but surely into Biff, filling him with sparks of ecstasy and so much ridiculous joy.

Some stupid tiny voice in his head kept insisting that it was just sex. But it wasn’t. It was just goddamn perfect.

Biff figured he’d started coming the moment Max’s cock first slid into him, but Max’s hand wrapping around his dick pretty much made him lose his mind. Then Max was shuddering above him. His lover’s mouth, which ought to have been spitting out a verbal excess of obscenity (it always had before) instead murmured a broken litany of adoration and praise.

I’m gonna smell like him. Oh, please.

They collapsed sideways. Max, determined, stayed inside, connected. As Biff floated back down, Max’s sentences became coherent.

“That was amazing. You’re amazing. You’re mine. We’re so good together. Never had anything like this. Like us. Didn’t know it could be that way. God, the way you feel. I can’t. God, Bryan.”

And Biff, splattered flat, gloriously satisfied, stayed quiet. Because he was always quiet. He sent his silent contentment back at Max in waves. He filled the stuttered pauses in Max’s tender chatter with one phrase only. I love you. I love you. I love you. He hoped Max could hear it, for all it came without words.

* * *

Max watched his lover sleep. Like I’m some teenage stalker. He couldn’t get over it. That kind of sex was basically impossible. And yet, there his boyfriend lay, glorious and perfect and naked and so, so good. I’m totally unable to handle wonderful. Adequate, certainly. Good, on occasion. But I don’t know what to do with wonderful, and I certainly don’t deserve it.

Max had stumbled up, taken out his own butt plug – ouch – and cleaned them both up as much as he could. Then he’d settled back to bask in the joy of it.

It occurred to him to worry about some of the things he’d revealed while drunk. Except Bryan had just trusted him in such a profound way – revealing his own dumb secrets seemed petty by comparison.

Great butt sex trumps everything. He chuckled to himself. Then more strictly: Stop worrying about it, Max. It’ll all be okay in the end. Heh, end.

He wasn’t sure when he dozed off, but he awoke to find a werewolf sliding back into bed next to him, early-morning sun sneaking in through the trees and dirty windows.

“We forgot to draw the curtains?”

Bryan grunted an affirmative and burrowed against him.

“You sore?”

Hazel eyes blinked at him, too close and myopically distorted. “Why, you wanna go again?”

“Yes,” Max answered without any hesitation. “But that’s not why I asked – I was trying to be a concerned boyfriend.”

A large, rough hand closed about Max’s morning wood. The other one wormed under him to grip his ass. “Concerned boyfriends should remember when their lovers have shifter healing. I went for a quick wolf run while you were sleeping. Besides, the deal is: I get to fuck you next.”

“Now that you know how it’s done right?”

Bryan moaned with the memory. “Exactly.”

Max felt about ten feet tall. I did that to him. Mine. “Admit it, I’m a sex god.”

“I’ll play your silly game.”

“Now?”

Bryan let go and rolled onto his back, groaning in a not-good-way. “No. I’m supposed to meet Alec for coffee in about five minutes. More house-hunting. Wanna come?”

“No.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Hey. I was up all night balls deep in your glorious ass.”

“And now you’re hung over. I choose to blame my ass and not your vodka.”

“Must be your ass, babe. Can’t drink enough vodka to get hung over.” Max felt the bile of fear rise in his stomach. And because it was early morning on the weekend and Bryan had recently sacrificed his virgin ass, Max sacrificed his sarcasm. “Look. I just need to psyche myself up before meeting your brother.”

“You keep building it up in your head, and it only becomes more insurmountable.”

“Looks who’s all fancy with the big words first thing in the morning.”

“Alec’s basically a wimp, you know?”

Fat chance. He’s a gay Alpha. That takes guts. And he loves you. Worse, you love him. You love him best in the world, I think. Shit, I hate happiness. I hate trust. I’ve got way too much to lose now. Or to have taken away from me. And Alec could do it. He could destroy me. You’d pick your brother over me. And now I’m an asshole for even thinking that.

Bryan was pulling on his clothing, such as it was. The man usually wore jeans and a T-shirt and boots and not a whole lot else. It was distracting.

Max stayed silent, let himself drift. Trying not to think about meeting his lover’s loved ones.

I could write myself into his flesh, he thought. Admiring the expanse of muscles. The perfect distribution of chest hair. Tattoo myself there. Except that he heals so easily. A man who changes his skin. What I wouldn’t give to change mine. Yet he is the steady one. I’m getting poetical. I must be hungry.

“Why are you so sure and stable? I mean, confidence is sexy, but you’re gonna give me a complex.”

Bryan didn’t answer, occupying himself with quiet preparations for departure. When he did speak again, that impossibly sexy, gravelly voice was almost accusing.

“All right, gorgeous. Here’s the deal.” He sat on the edge of the bed, sliding one big hand through Max’s messy hair. “I’ll be back at six. We’re gonna take your car and pick up a mess of pizzas, take those back to my boys. They’ll love you forever.”

“That’s all it takes, pizza?”

“Werewolves are simple creatures. Eviscerating Italian food, when you can’t get real Italians, is our idea of a good time.”

“And what else will happen? Will I be eviscerated too? I mean, I’m sure I have Italian blood in there somewhere. I’ve everything else.”

“Only your ego. They’ll tease the crap outta both of us.”

“And your brother?”

“Oh, Alec will definitely threaten your life.”

Max felt the bile rise again. Oh god oh god oh god. I don’t think I can do this.

Bryan kept railroading him. “After pizza, we’ll come back here and I’ll play mercilessly with your body for two hours and then screw you senseless until you finally shut up for a while.”

Max knew there was an unspoken end to that sentence. Until you stop criticizing yourself. Until you stop worrying. Until your father’s voice in your head is silent. Until you stop being afraid of me, and mine, and the overwhelming possibility of us.

“You gonna make me wear a butt plug while I meet your pack?”

“Would that help?”

“Probably not.”

“Then no. See you at six.”

Max let out a long, slow, shaky breath and tried not to feel bereft when Bryan stopped playing with his hair and left.

* * *

Alec was sipping a latte and looking grumpy. Biff watched through the window as one of the cafe staff checked in on his Alpha. The place was busy but everyone gravitated to Alec, trying to see to his comfort. A disgruntled Alpha caused waves of emotional perturbation in everyone. As if he’d been dropped like a pebble into the sea of petty human concerns and now all they cared about was flattening the ripples he’d caused.

Biff prepared himself for water-smoothing.

He tousled his brother’s hair without comment, noting that as soon as Alec sensed his presence, the tension in his brother’s shoulders diminished.

“Morning.” Alec’s hazel eyes looked tired. Biff worried he was neglecting his duties as Beta. The new job plus the stress of an unstable living environment and eight mouths to feed was wearing on his brother.

“I’m gonna order.” Biff got himself a latte (he didn’t much care for coffee but he liked how much milk there was in lattes) and ordered two breakfast sandwiches with extra bacon.

“You smell like jizz,” said his brother as soon as he sat.

“Would you like me to explain how it works, little boy?”

Alec gave him an assessing look. “Don’t think I flip that way.”

Biff was startled enough not to be grossed out by this insight into his brother’s sex life. “What, never?”

“I am an Alpha.”

“Oh, and taking it up the ass makes you weak or inferior? How outdated is that craptastic mindset.” Biff was furious.

Alec grinned. “You recommend it, then?”

“Yep. Now can we not talk about this? You’re my brother – it’s too damn disgusting.”

“You plan to continue?”

“Really? Really! Yes, Alec, I intend to fuck and get fucked. I happen to possess modern sensibilities about the ass as an erogenous zone. Now, do you really want details or can we drop this conversation?”

“Touchy much?”

“Touchy lots, you little shit. Stop poking at me. That’s what Max is for.”

Alec sputtered coffee on a laugh. “Still a grouch in the morning, even after a hot night. So, when do we get to meet this sex god?”

“Never, if Max has his way. Tonight, if I do.”

“Oh yeah, and who’ll win that argument?”

“Me – I traded my ass for the privilege.”

Alec snorted his foam this time. “So, does he have a brother?”

“Marvin not working out for you?”

“I was thinking of Judd or Colin.”

“Don’t play matchmaker, brother dear, it’s so not in your skill set.”

“You think not?”

Biff gave him a long look.

“Fine. You’re right. So, does this paragon of yours have any siblings?”

“Man, I hope not. I can barely handle the one.”

“Ooo, now I really gotta meet him. You can handle anyone.”

“He’s a bit broken. Go easy on him.”

Alec narrowed his eyes. He didn’t need to say what he was thinking. Biff knew. The one isn’t pack. No punches will be pulled.

Biff sighed. “Just tread with care, please. For my sake?”

“You really like him, don’t you?”

“Yeah.” A mistake, perhaps. Max called me stable and solid, all the while making me weak for him.

“Well, hell. That’s no fun.”

* * *

Max was a bundle of nerves by the time Bryan arrived to pick him up. He’d cleaned, changed the bedsheets, done the laundry, and generally occupied himself with crisis-coping activities. These ended with him staring distractedly out the kitchen window at his father’s house and not hating it for a change. Not resenting it.

Then he’d dressed in his favorite jeans, and his nicest shirt – as if I were going in for a job interview – and met Bryan in the driveway.

“Am I forgetting anything? Beer? Wine? Flank steak?”

“Ball gag?” suggested his werewolf unhelpfully.

“Oh my god, was that a comeback? Is my Muscles getting snarky? I think he is. I’m so proud.” Max wiped away an imaginary tear. “It’s like watching a wide-eyed baby take his first stumbling steps.”

“You’re intentionally turning me into an asshole?”

“And I’ll be here, every magical moment, to guide you into asshole-dom.”

“That works on so many levels.”

“See? Like that! Very good. Could be a tad more vehement, but one can’t turn out the perfect asshole too quickly.”

“Sure seems like you took a shortcut.” His werewolf left his gear strapped to his bike and folded himself into Max’s tiny car with graceful care.

“Any luck with the housing?” Max asked, as they drove to get the pizzas.

“Nope.”

“And what did you get up to today, Max? Why, thank you for asking, Bryan darling. I did some chores, biked into town, and went to the library.”

“What are you, twelve?”

Max batted his eyelashes. “No, babe, I’m your charming suburban housewife.”

Bryan snorted to hide a smile. “Where’s my dry martini, cheesy casserole, and big fat cigar, then?”

“I’ll give you a big fat cigar, honey.”

“Later, hot stuff.”

“Exactly!”

Max knew Bryan was humoring him to keep him distracted, but it worked all the way through collecting the pizza and driving into the city. Until they were pulling up outside one of those bog-standard duplexes in Outer Richmond. At that point, Max pretty much had to keep swallowing to stop himself from puking.

Bryan looked at him, clearly worried. “Oh, for goodness’ sake, you big baby. It’ll be fine.”

“I hate you.”

“Just stare at my ass as we go up the stairs.”

“Okay, I don’t hate you.”