CHAPTER FIVE

Spicy

Okay, fine, the lentils weren’t that bad. In fact they were pretty good. And the lamb was sensational. And the sour spongy-bread stuff was kind of fun. Eating with one’s hands was strange (werewolves usually spent a lot of time trying not to act like animals) but Biff could roll with it.

Biff’s arm snaked out of its own accord as they were leaving, and hauled the leaner man against his side so he could whisper in his ear, “Next time, let’s get takeout. Then I can eat it off you, instead of that weird bread.”

He felt Max smile against his cheek. “Even the lentils?”

“I’ll make patterns with them on your chest. No chest hair to get caught in, I bet.” Biff could just imagine it, that smooth expanse of coffee-colored skin.

But Max flinched. Just a little. Is he self-conscious about the lack of hair? Biff tried to reassure him. “I like the idea of you all smooth.”

“Yeah? Good thing I shaved, then.”

Biff frowned, running a thumb from those cut-glass cheekbones to that pert little chin.

“Not there, silly,” said the sumage.

Biff tried not to swallow his tongue. Definitely trouble.

“So, you’re a werewolf, right?”

Now the man sounded nervous. Where had that come from? Biff swatted away yet another hand as it went for his ass. Then he swatted at one that went for Max’s. My Trouble! “Everyone knows, werewolves aren’t real.”

Max bumped him, hip to hip. “Lemme get there. So, you’re all into smell, and touch, and taste?”

Biff didn’t get the hesitation in his date’s voice. They’d just practically crawled across the dinner table and into each other’s laps. They were booking it down the gayest street in gay-town with the express intention of avoiding all the clubs and bars so they could go somewhere private and bang each other senseless. At least he thought that’s what they were doing. Man, I hope he doesn’t have a hundred roommates, ’cause I sure can’t take him back to my place.

“I believe we already covered that.” Biff was willing to coax Max along, if that’s what he needed now.

“Sight?”

“I like looking at you. You’re sexy. You do know that, right?” He’d thought his mouthy sumage was all cocky confidence, but perhaps that was bravado. Biff’s Beta side rose. Care. Attention. Affection. What does he need?

“Yeah, but you’re mostly into the other senses, right?”

Biff frowned. Then grabbed the man’s hand and hauled him down a side alley, away from the worst of the crowds. “Is it a big bad wolf thing? Are you frightened I’ll get violent? My teeth might drop a bit and my eyes may shift, but that’s all. I’m not an actual animal. And I’m not a newly made pup.”

Max worried his lower lip.

Biff really wanted to kiss that lip right now, but this was serious. There was something else going on. There was something wrong. What had been all humming intimacy had crumbled into strained separation.

“I’ve never slept with a werewolf before.”

“The parts work the same way. I promise not to change form in the middle.”

“Don’t even joke about that.”

“What’s going on, Max?”

Max took a deep breath. “I was thinking fondly of, I don’t know, something to keep us both a little controlled and calm.”

“Restraints?” Biff wasn’t opposed to the idea, but this first time, he’d like his hands free. But if Max was worried about him controlling his wolf, he was willing to do anything to reassure him. Then again, he had nearly dropped teeth when they were kissing, so maybe a little restraint was a good idea.

“Would you?” Max looked both turned on and curious.

“Sure. But that’s not what you’re after, is it?”

“No.”

“Spit it out, Max. I’m the surly one, not you.”

Max huffed a little laugh. “I was thinking, um, blindfold?”

Biff considered. He desperately wanted to see Max naked. But if Max was uncomfortable or self-conscious?

Pam had been that way. Especially as she put on weight during the later years of their marriage. Biff knew humans were odd, as a rule, about nudity. Werewolves not so much.

“Can I lick you instead?”

Max nodded violently.

“All over?”

Max nodded again.

Enough separation. Biff grabbed and pulled him flush against his body. He nosed the side of the sumage’s neck and laved along the high neckline of that tight shirt. He smelled the brown sugar and a zing of quintessence, and instead of that awful chemical coolant, there it was – butter rum. But overlying it was something else. Cologne? Yech.

Biff bit Max softly in punishment.

Max gave another one of his glorious tiny whimpers.

Biff closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation. Max’s body against his. Max’s smell. Yummy caramel, delicious male musk, acceptable levels of quintessence, stupid cologne. He ran his hands down Max’s back, cupped that perfect ass he had been desperately trying not to ogle all evening. He delved his fingers into the cleft as much as Max’s tight jeans would allow.

“Even here?” He pressed his advantage in the negotiations. Yeah, so it was doglike. Or wolflike, but he needed to taste. He had this feeling that was where Max would be the most…Max. No fake scent like on his neck, no deodorant like under his arms, no gel like on his hair, no honey wine like in his mouth. Just Max.

Max swallowed against Biff’s tongue. “Yeah.”

Biff grazed him with the sharp edge of one tooth.

“Shower first.”

Max jerked against him, insulted.

Biff growled, drew him closer. “Not back there. You leave that be. But I want this crap off your neck, and that sharp-smelling stuff from under your arms, and what the hell are you using aftershave for? And gel. I mean really?”

Max started to laugh. “You’re the worst gay man ever.”

“You gonna take away my sight. I want smell. Your smell. Just you. Deal?”

“Oh yeah, Muscles, you got yourself a deal.”

Well damn, thought Biff as Max laughed, that was easy. The vision of their immediate future went straight to his cock. I am in so much trouble.

* * *

Max brought his werewolf home.

“You live in Sausalito?”

“I do.”

“Of course you do.”

Max took him to the massive house at the top of the hill. His father’s house. But not into it. He didn’t live there. Couldn’t live there. He let it rest with its memories, both of them abandoned, corroding, and forgotten. Because Dad would like that least of all. To just be…forgotten.

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.