CHAPTER NINE

Marvin the Nosy Merman

Max woke up the next morning draped over a warm, rumbling, slightly scruffy mattress. Consequently, he knew several things all at once. He was not alone in his bed. He was happy. And he was freaked out about both.

To prevent himself from panic, he used a trick from his childhood. He analyzed each observation separately.

Part the first: not being alone. Bryan is in bed with me. Bryan is in my bed, underneath me. A werewolf. A lover. A good guy. A nice man of the furry variety.

Okay, so that leads to part the second: happiness. An odd sensation. Giddy. Bit of a knot in my throat that needs to be swallowed around. Although – that could be last night’s deep-throating. Mmmm, spicy cock. Stop that, Max. What was I thinking about before dick? Oh yeah, happiness.

Which quickly resulted in the part the third: freaking out. So, being happy freaks me out. That’s charmingly messed-up of me. Maybe what I really need is coffee.

Max eased himself off Bryan. Well, he tried to – they were rather stuck together. This was a delightful memory and kind of gross. Eventually he managed it, leaving warm peach fuzz and sexy muscles behind. He climbed out of bed and pulled on some boxers. No need to be ashamed and cover up further, Bryan had seen everything now. And how do we feel about that? Poke poke. More terror, apparently. Definitely time for coffee.

Max settled himself into the mindless ritual of caffeine, putting water to boil, mixing the different kinds of beans – Italian, French, and peaberry – grinding them, pouring the water over, pressing down slowly.

He waited until he was sipping the coffee to test his fear again. Pressing against it like a tongue against a loose tooth. Why? What’s wrong with me?

He stood looking out the kitchen window at his father’s huge, ugly, crumbling house. Max was bad at most things. He was bad at being the son his father wanted. He was bad at being the mage his family needed. He was bad at being gay: too self-conscious to be promiscuous, too much self-doubt to offer himself on the altar of love. Not that he indulged in fantasies of white picket fences and adopting unwanted shifter kids. Truth be told, Max had no notion of what he might want in a relationship, because he’d never thought to have one. He was bad at so many things, but what he sucked at the most, apparently, was being happy.

Two strong arms wound around him, and naked werewolf nuzzled into his neck. Max leaned back. This part was easy. Bryan made it easy. Why does the tickle of chest hair have to feel so glorious?

Bryan huffed the smooth skin behind his ear. The sniff turned to one of slight disgust. Then the werewolf gave a funny, pathetic sigh. “I suppose I’ll have to forgive you for being a coffee drinker.”

“Wrong smell again?”

Bryan yawned, his jaw cracking slightly. “Not really, it’s just that coffee is disgusting.”

Max gasped. “Sacrilege. Get out of my house this instant!”

“So…you have no tea?”

How did such a big gruff man manage to sound so pathetic?

“There’s probably some mint growing out in that mess I call a yard, somewhere.”

“Mint is not tea. Mint is an herb. Tea is a sacred plant grown by sumage monks in the highlands of exotic foreign lands where Vanaras dust them with dew every morning—”

“You’re a freak. That’s the most poetical you’ve ever been about anything, and it’s a pack of lies about tea.”

“Everyone is moved to poetry on some subject.”

“Your dick, for example?”

“Yeah? Gonna write it an ode?”

“I think I need some more inspiration first.”

“Say no more. Put down that swill and come back to bed.”

Max really did want to. “Can’t. Work. Must drink coffee.”

Bryan didn’t push the matter, just rested his chin on Max’s shoulder and looked out at the run-down house and the untended garden while Max sipped. It was ridiculously domestic. Max loved it. The terror returned.

Bryan rumbled, “Good bones on that place, if someone cared to fix it up.”

“Someone doesn’t.” The terror ramped all the way up.

“It’s yours?”

Max stiffened.

Bryan shifted position so he could stroke Max’s naked chest from belly to shoulder with one big hand in a gentling way, as if quieting a skittish kelpie. He murmured his understanding. “Your father’s?”

Max nodded.

“Fuck him,” said Bryan.

Max laughed. Just like that, the happiness was back, only without the terror. Max let it settle over him and attempted not to question anything for a while.

* * *

Despite the lack of tea, Biff tried to be as easygoing as possible. Frankly, this wasn’t a challenge. He was pretty laid-back most of the time, and in the morning, it was easier. In the morning, people were less demanding and his naturally taciturn nature was found to be less abrasive. He focused on fitting neatly in and around Max’s normal workday routine. When the toast popped, he was there to butter it while Max fixed himself a second cup of coffee (lots of sugar and vanilla creamer). He dressed while Max dressed, and made the bed while Max gathered his things. He made no awkward motions to linger or to do anything at all that might slow life down. Don’t be difficult, Biff. Don’t be a drag. The motto of his existence.

It took him most of that time to work up the courage to say anything important. Until, done weighing his words and finding them wanting no matter how he phrased things, he finally let them spill out regardless of the consequences.

“I know you’re busy. And I got my recertification coming and job applications to fill out. But…” He lost all steam then. Why was it so much harder to ask this man out than any woman he’d ever known? Because it matters. This matters. He matters.

The sumage, buttoning his shirt, looked up and smiled, eyes crinkling. “You want another date, Muscles?”

Man, he was pretty with those white teeth in that tan face.

“Yeah.” What Biff wanted to say was: I can’t go through that again. Please don’t push me away for another self-hating reason. Or worse, put me off for some dumb modern lifestyle. This can’t be one of those party-town one-time things. Or two-time things. This is more than that. We both know it’s more than that. It has to be more than that. I’m not in this alone. I may be new to this, but I know connection when I find it.

What he said was, “We can’t stop now.”

“We can’t?” Max looked cheeky. “Why’s that?”

Biff hunted for an equally coy answer, didn’t have any, so spoke truth. Knowing it was a risk. Knowing it might scare the sumage away. “You can’t start me out on my fabulous gay future comparing every man I meet to Maximillian Barker. Not fair on them.”

“Jesus Christ, Bryan, why you have to be so sweet?”

Gotcha. “I like it when you call me Bryan.”

“Not Muscles?”

“I like it when you call me that too, Trouble.” You can call me anything you like so long as you smile that way.

“What if I call you Habanero?” Max waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

“Only if I can use Sparkles.”

“Ew, no.”

“Seltzer?”

“Stop it.” Was Max blushing? Super hard to tell.

“Carbonation Man?” Biff pressed his advantage.

Max sputtered coffee. “Here I cum to save the day?”

“Mighty jizz is on its way?”

“With the power of fizzy dick!” Max tossed the dregs of his coffee and rinsed his mug, grabbing his keys and his briefcase. Curiously, he used an old-fashioned brown leather one, as if he were an ad man from the 1960s.

Biff grinned, holding the door for him. “I’ll stick to Trouble, shall I?”

“Sure thing, Cayenne Cock.”

They paused in the driveway next to Max’s beat-up old car and Biff’s well-maintained old bike.

“Wait,” said Biff when they would have continued their first morning ritual with a simultaneous departure.

Max tossed his briefcase into the roadster and turned. “Yeah?”

Biff pressed against him and took his hot mouth almost savagely. He inhaled butter caramel and tasted coffee, which was not so bad if it came with Max’s warm, willing tongue.

When he pulled back for a breather, Max gave him a new kind of smile. A small, shy one. His lips kiss-swollen and rosy. “So, that date?”

Biff moved to his bike, slipped astride, and kicked it into warming up. He spoke over the rumble. “I’ll pick you up Friday at seven. Dress warm – we’re going for a ride.”

“Dictatorial much?” His man was still leaning against his car, as if dazed from that kiss.

Good. I can’t be in this alone.

“You like it.” Biff clapped his helmet on his head.

The sound was muffled, but he thought he heard Max say, a little pathetically, “Not until Friday?”

He backed the bike out and sped away. His mouth hurt from smiling the whole ride home.

* * *

Friday was a ridiculously long way away.

Max leaned his elbow on his desk and glared down at the paperwork in front of him. It was only Wednesday afternoon, he’d seen Bryan yesterday morning, and yet he was pining.

Fortunately for his job security, his productivity had hit an all-time low.

“Disgusting,” said Ms Trickle, sticking her head in. “What has he done to you? You look almost happy.”

“It’ll pass.”

“It always does.”

“You want something, boss?”

“A better life?”

“You’re not fooling anyone – you adore it here. You relish the small amount of tyrannical power that you can lord over us minions. You like having mages to boss around and kitsunes to torture.”

“Too true. There’s a waiting room full of people in line and then more lines after that, each line making them madder and madder at the government and at life. And I did it all! I made them suffer. Mouah-ha-ha!” The kelpie raised both hands, claw-like, in front of her face in a melodramatic Shakespearean manner. “Meanwhile, what have you done with your life?”

“Aside from ruined it?”

“Aside from that.”

“Found me a boy.”

Ms Trickle frowned to hide her delighted smile. “As much of an asshole as you?”

“Sadly, no. He’s all nice and shit. Like, a really decent good guy.”

“Oh. My. God. You’ll break him.”

“That’s the plan.”

“Poor creature. Speaking of creatures, that werewolf you had in last week is out in the lobby waiting for you with this super hot blond dude. I mean, I don’t swing that way, but the man is beautiful.”

“Merman?”

“Of course. Said they needed to add to the pack paperwork. He moves fast.”

Max nodded, hiding his nervousness, and his thrill, and his arousal. So much for waiting until Friday. And not yet meeting the in-laws.

Wait.

In-laws?

“Oh, and you’ve attracted the interest of upstairs – there’s a new judge been asking about you. Savage court and all that entails. What have you done now, Mr Barker?”

Max went instantly and totally on guard. He hated the savage judge brigade. Old-school civic mages with more power than good sense had set up a system that allowed them to bully shifters, sumages, and savage mages. The last thing Max wanted was one of his father’s cronies looking for him.

“Well, shit, I’m sure it’s just my charming self. Everyone wants me these days.”

“You keep telling yourself that, Barker, and maybe someday someone will believe it. Now go take a gander at that merman. He sure is pretty.”

“Stop, or you’ll convince me you’re actually straight.”

“Perish the thought.”

* * *

Biff wasn’t fooling anyone, least of all Marvin, when he insisted that they must get the pack details ironed out by visiting DURPS together. However, Marvin was wildly curious to see Biff’s new man, so of course he agreed to perform the excuse. Marvin was nothing if not nosy.

Alec started his new job that morning, so he’d waved them off with a tolerant expression and a word to his mate. “Don’t torture them too much, my love.”

Marvin had kissed him with a twinkle in his remarkable aqua eyes. “Have a nice time at work, babe. Don’t let the microorganisms get you down.”

So, now Marvin was standing next to Biff, still twinkling.

Biff felt horribly self-conscious.

The merman was taking in all the impatience and chaos and anger of the processing waiting room with his usual charm. Biff, on the other hand, was anxious, and interested only in one tall, tanned, blue-eyed sumage.

As he searched in vain, Biff watched his brother’s mate out of the corner of his eye. Marvin always seemed to view the world as if it were something delightful. He’d been that way ever since he and Alec got together. Biff could only love him for it. Alec hadn’t had an easy time of it and Marvin was good to him, and good for him. Hell, he was good for the whole pack. Gave a lie to the old “stick to your species” mandate.

Then Max came sauntering in from the back offices and Biff lost the ability to think about the merman at all.

Max slid through the crowd, loose-limbed and bumbling. Biff loved the way his man’s hips moved as he walked, like there was grace and easy motion trapped in there, but only for the fucking. He was all knees and elbows, and danger and wet dreams.

“Hi” was all Biff managed to say, knowing he sounded inane.

“Well, hello, Muscles, couldn’t wait until Friday, as it turned out?”

Biff tried to stop himself from blushing. “Thought I’d better bring in proof of our pack’s good intentions. This is my brother-in-law, Marvin, Alpha-mate and merman.”

“In the flesh,” said Marvin, “or scales, if you insist.” His sharp eyes flashed back and forth between Biff and Max with pleased interest. No doubt he noted how close Max stood to Biff, and how Biff angled himself toward Max, seeking his smell.

Max shook Marvin’s webbed hand. “We don’t get many of your kind bothering to register – no need if you intend to stay offshore.”

“Welp, I’m in dry dock for the foreseeable future, in a manner of speaking.”

Biff suspected Marvin was particularly pleased about something, but he wasn’t quite sure what. Which made him nervous.

“Come on through and we’ll file the necessary paperwork.”

Max led the way. Biff followed close on his heels, breathing him in. It’d been barely twenty-four hours but he’d missed the sumage like crazy. Man, he was so delicious.

“Well,” said Marvin, “I can see what all the fuss is about.”

Glancing around to make sure it was just the three of them in the hallway, Biff pressed his hand gently to the small of Max’s back. The sumage shivered under his touch but didn’t tense up and didn’t protest. It relaxed something in Biff, contact with this man.

I’m so lost for him.

“My, but you have it bad,” whispered the overly perceptive merman behind them, softly enough so he knew Biff’s shifter hearing would pick it up but Max’s human ears would not.

Biff nodded.

They went into Max’s office and sat.

Max pulled out a short stack of paperwork and began making notes, asking Marvin pertinent questions about his family pod, ability to volunteer for water-work, and tail color. However, it became clear pretty quickly that Marvin was doing some interviewing of his own.

“So, you’re a Placer?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“Not many of those about.”

“Sumages in general aren’t common. How long have you and the Alpha of Bryan’s pack been married?”

“We aren’t legally. Biff was just being a darling about calling me his brother-in-law. He knows I like it. Don’t you, big guy?”

Oh, so that’s what had pleased Marvin so much. Biff shrugged and gave a shy smile. “I think of you that way.” All up in pack business, you might as well be.

“Isn’t he the cutest?” Marvin asked Max.

“Yeah, he kinda is,” Max answered without hesitation.

Biff turned bright red.

“So, what’s your lineage?” Marvin pressed the sumage.

“Barker. Line of asshole Surges from Saturation on down, as you might have guessed. I’m a big old disappointing whoops.”

“Yeah, well, I’m male and gay – can’t say my pod was over the moon about me.”

Biff had never considered Marvin’s position. He’d always been too worried about Alec’s, and then his own, sexual orientation. But he supposed it was a little odd that despite a close relationship with his sister, there had been no objections when Marvin took up with a landlubber shifter of a different race, leaving his pod behind.

Max kept up his pretense of official work. “So, you’re not yet married, but you are officially mated?”

Marvin nodded. “Absolutely.”

“I’ll put down domesticated mates – it’ll do for now. But California has no Uncommon Law, so you might want to make it official for legal reasons if the pack invests in property.”

“I’m kinda waiting for him to ask me.”

Max looked up, blue eyes twinkling in a wicked way that went straight to Biff’s cock. “That how your relationship works, is it?”

Marvin grinned. “Yeah, you want details?”

Uh-oh.

Max looked intrigued. These two could be dangerous together. Neither one liked to lose a verbal battle.

Biff girded himself to speak.

Max said, “How about diagrams? And while we’re at it, when you have a fish tail, where does your junk go? I’ve always wondered.”

Marvin grinned again. “Hang about for a while and maybe you’ll find out.”

“My brother would kick your ass, Trouble,” Biff felt compelled to add. Alec was easygoing for an Alpha, but when all was said and done, he was an Alpha.

Max looked at him with a smile. “I’d like to see him try.”

Biff was wrenched by the horrible thought that if Alec ever did come after Max, Biff would be compelled to fight him. His own brother. His Alpha. Because why? Why was this sumage so important to him so suddenly? Not good. Not good. Not good.

Something in his mood translated to the others, because Marvin changed the subject. “And you, Mr Barker? Have you any family, hidden mates, wives, or husbands hanging about?”

“Nope,” said Max without blinking.

Biff finally understood what was going on. Marvin was interviewing Max for pack membership.

Oh no, did I come off as that serious about this relationship? Am I that serious about this relationship? Apparently. He shivered. Stupid mating instincts.

Fortunately, Max didn’t seem to realize this. “Well, if you’ll just sign here, we should be good. As I told your Beta last week, you’re approved for residency. We just need a pack name and, of course, a permanent address. Jobs would be a great show of good intentions as well.”

Marvin nodded. “Of course. Alec started his today.”

Max looked intrigued. “Oh, yes?”

Biff was gruff with pride for his brilliant scientist brother. “Bio department at Super Submersion.”

Max laughed, looking breathtakingly beautiful. “Right, he’s a marine biologist – I remember you saying that. With a merman mate. Makes a warped kind of sense.”

Marvin smiled at the dig.

Biff added, “Our youngest is in school.”

Max looked mildly confused.

Marvin stepped in to explain. “The youngest pack member, Colin. He’s at College of Marin for computer science. Lovejoy already has work as a cook – he’s a bit of a hustler so there’s no surprise there. Biff takes his EMS certification for California next week. Right?” Biff nodded. “The others are actively applying for jobs as well. We need a proper pack house. But we aren’t slackers, I promise.”

“And you?”

Marvin grinned. “Adjunct Coast Guard. Arranged by a local pod. You know merfolk – we always got connections.”

“Coast Guard, huh?”

“Keeps me in fins.”

A perfunctory knock came at the door and Max’s large, angry-looking boss stuck her head in.

Max looked up. “Oh, hey, Trickle. Two visits in one day? I’m honored.”

“You’re in session.”

“As you see.”

The woman looked them over, both Biff and Marvin. Biff tried not to wrinkle his nose. Marvin inclined his head in the slightly deferential way of a lesser shifter acknowledging the strength of a stronger one.

Biff considered the smell of swamp and alfalfa. He’d be tempted to ignore the idea because of her gender, but all things pointed to kelpie, and this was the Bay Area, so…

Kelpie would explain how easily she dismissed a werewolf, turning back to Max. Kelpies were big and fierce and solid – river spirits given horse form, the old legends said. They need not fear werewolves. Also, they tasted awful. “I bet it’s the merman. He’s so pretty.”

“Why, thank you,” said Marvin. “But the merman is taken. If you wanna know who has your employee’s panties in a bunch, it’s Mr Strong Silent there.”

Biff found himself the object of scrutiny. The kelpie was powerful, but she kept it pretty bottled up. He felt only a minor inclination to show his neck. She wasn’t his Alpha, so instead he crossed his arms and smiled, without teeth.

“Really? How interesting. Wouldn’t think you were Max’s type.”

Max was squirming in his too-small chair.

Oh, I see how it is. She’s teasing. Max must be trouble for her too.

Biff was wolf enough to play along. “Oh, no?” He quirked an eyebrow. “What’s his type, then?”

The kelpie pursed her lips. “Fine, you got me. No idea, man’s a fucking monk.”

Biff gave a private smile. “Not so I’d know it.”

Max looked only slightly mortified and his boss looked immeasurably pleased.

“Well, good, finally. Now, Barker, finish up here, would you? That judge wants to see you. Upstairs is getting insistent.”

Max went tense and pale.

Biff’s wolf instincts started screaming at him. Protect. Help.

But Max was already standing, shaking their hands, and dismissing them. And, curse it, he was at work.

Despite the presence of boss and brother-in-law, Biff angled around Max’s desk to press up against him. “What’s wrong? Should I stay?”

Both the kelpie and the merman were looking at him as if he had sprouted tentacles out his nostrils. Biff didn’t care – anything to fix the sudden mix of fear and disgust in Max’s face, and the acid overtones to his delicious scent.

“You can’t.” Max’s voice was low. “I’ll deal with it. I’ll see you Friday.”

“Text me later?”

Max nodded, and Biff, desperate to kiss him, moved away before he could fall into temptation. The man is at his job, damn it – this is not the time to maul him.

As he and Marvin made their way out, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Max needed him to stay, but more important, Max wanted him to stay.

“Marvin,” he said, as they pushed through the door and out into the parking lot, “what do you know about savage judges?”

* * *

Max watched Bryan leave his office and had the strangest sensation of losing a life raft. And no, it wasn’t that he wanted to climb aboard the big werewolf and ride him. Although that was certainly part of it. Some forgotten quintessence corner of him yearned for the wolf. As if, when faced with the inherent threat of an unknown mage – any judge wanting to see a sumage was by definition a threat – what he reached for was a shifter. Which was, frankly, warped.

He supposed Bryan made him feel oddly safe. But there was more to it, some instinctual belief that there was something in Bryan that could actually help Max. If it came to a fight. When it came to a fight. No doubt the man was pretty kickass as a wolf, but a fight with a judge meant quintessence, and what could a shifter do there? All Bryan had were minor savage abilities, and all that did was shift him and heal him. Sometimes helped him heal others. As being a Beta helped him calm others down. Wasn’t like he was Alpha or anything special.

Max shook his head. Sexual tension is driving me bonkers. I just need to fuck him and get this out of my system. Or have him fuck me. I’m not fussy.

And now, concentrate, judge wants you.

Max looked to his boss, wondering how much sway he had in this situation. Could he force a public meeting rather than a private audience? Not likely, he supposed. Lowly sumage meets, what… Oh, shit. “This is a Surge-level judge we’re talking about, isn’t it?”

The kelpie nodded, not looking too worried.

Max frowned and decided to try to delay the inevitable. “I’m quite busy right now – can I offer him next week?” He sounded prim.

“It’s your funeral. Here’s his assistant’s extension.”

Max called and scheduled a meeting for the following week as far away as possible, then he kept insanely busy for the next few days, totally not admitting to himself that all he really cared about was that he had a date with Bryan on Friday.