fur and fang

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental and beyond the intent of either the author or publisher. Fur and Fang TOP SHELF An imprint of Torquere Press Publishers PO Box 2545 Round Rock, TX 78680 Alpha copyright © 2006 by BA Tortuga; The Lost Tiger copyright © 2006 by Sean Michael; The Law of the Jungle copyright © 2007 by Sean Michael; Snake Oil copyright © 2006 by BA Tortuga Illustration Copyright © S. Clements Published with permission ISBN: 978-1-60370-756-5, 1-60370-756-5 www.torquerepress.com All rights reserved, which includes the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever except as provided by the U.S. Copyright Law. For information address Torquere Press. Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. First Torquere Press Printing: July 2009 Printed in the USA

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Table of Contents The Law of the Jungle by Sean Michael - 4

Snake Oil by BA Tortuga - 47

The Lost Tiger by Sean Michael - 78

Alpha by BA Tortuga - 136

Contributors’ Bios - 189

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The Law of the Jungle by Sean Michael Marco Lorencio del Arancia Perania stood at the wheel, his feet planted on the deck as it rolled, the wind in his hair, the sun beating down on him. They had stocked up in the Americas and were making their way in the general direction of Afrika. They would take any merchant ships they met on the way, and sink any of His Majesty’s naval ships. It was what he did; revenge upon the English sailor who’d impregnated his mother and left her no better than a whore in the seaside Spanish village he was from. El Spada Nero was a thorn in the side of the English navy, a fact Marco was very proud of. He raised his face to the sun, feeling the warm rays upon him, the salt in the air increasing as they left the land behind them and entered the ocean proper. She welcomed them with high waves and a good, strong wind. “Set the topsail and catch that wind!” The very same wind tore the words from him, but Rupito heard and relayed the order, his crew jumping to obey. They were watching him, though, as they worked, when they’d done. His crew was looking at him strangely. Expectantly. Marco motioned to Rupito to come to him. "What's going on?" "Capitane?" Of a similar height and age as Marco himself, Rupito had eyes of a deeper brown, his skin even darker than Marco’s own sun-kissed flesh. And the man was trying to look innocent. Marco nodded toward the deck, two of the crew turning quickly away as his eyes came to light on them. They were trying to look innocent as well. It was not a look that a band of pirates was good at, and he narrowed his eyes. "Something's going on." Rupito snorted. "We're bored, Capitane. As are you. Let me take the wheel and you can go below and have your evening meal." "I still say something's going on." Brown eyes stared back at him, giving nothing away. He shook off the feeling that something was afoot and slapped Rupito on the back. He headed

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across the deck, rolling with the ship. His cabin was just belowdecks. The largest cabin on the boat, it still wasn't very roomy. It was, however, his home. More so than anywhere on land. Marco frowned as he got to the door, some strange sound coming from behind it. What had his crew done? Very carefully, he opened the door. The snarl stopped him in his tracks.

He drew his knife from his belt, hand closing over the black opal hilt as he peeked in. Something

rattled, hissing and growling -- a blur of ebony that near dazzled him. What in the name of God...

It was as if a pair of emeralds were lit by the sun, shining at him.

Fascinating.

He took another step forward -- he should have brought a lantern down with him, there was

barely enough light coming into the cabin from the small porthole to see by. And yet, he could

see enough.

Whiskers.

Tail.

Black as pitch, and huge.

By the sea herself... t'was a damned cat.

A large black cat in a cage.

He'd known his crew was up to something. But he would never have guessed this. It might prove

a most interesting diversion. Or a very bad thing, if pirate superstition about cats proved true.

Marco stepped in completely and closed the door, keeping the knife in his hand. Just in case. The animal lurched, snapping at the air and wailing, the cage rattling like a sack of bones. Keeping several feet from the cage, he crouched, putting himself on a level with the big cat, looking into the angry, emerald eyes. "Si, Beauty, 'tis nearly a sin to cage you."

Long, white fangs shone at him, bared, slick.

Dangerous.

How wonderful!

Those eyes stared at him, mesmerizing, sparkling. He reached toward the cage, wondering if the

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black fur felt as soft as it looked. The cage rattled furiously, the panther fighting to attack, claws

raking at the bars.

Marco decided he could wait to find out. He was drawn to that ferocity, though, to the way the

beast fought its cage. "Have you been fed, Beauty?"

He put his head out his door and bellowed for his supper to be brought. Wee little Davy came

running, dishes rattling. "Coming, Cap'n!"

"There'd better be meat enough to feed the mad beast you've all seen fit to trap in my cabin." He

gave Davy a stern look. "Was the black cat your idea, then?"

"No, sir. No, sir, not at all, but wasn't none of us wantin' to skin him and that's what them others

was gon' do with him!"

"What others, boy?" Davy was an invaluable source of information. He'd never regretted letting

the scamp live, when they'd taken the English slaver near two years ago.

"Them men with the long boat and the dresses. They was wanting to kill it and Matey said it was

too fine to ruin. Like a piece of the jungle for you."

"Very poetic of Matey." Still, the man wasn't wrong. It would have been a shame to kill a beast

like the one in his cabin. "Come in, then, let's see if we can figure out how to get some food in

the cage without losing any of our fingers."

"Aye aye, Cap'n. You want I should get a big long sword to stick the roast on?"

"Good idea, lad." He took his bowls from Davy. "Go on with you."

"Yes, Cap'n. I'll bring a blade."

Marco smacked Davy on the rear to send him on his way, and put the food on his little table. He

took a bottle of rum down from the small cabinet and poured himself out a glass, watching the

big cat the entire time. The cat seemed to do the same, eyes fastened on him.

He sat, taking a mouthful of the rum. "What shall we call you, then?"

He received a long, low growl in response, as if the damnable beast understood him.

"Esmerelda, maybe, hmmm?" To match those amazing emerald eyes.

The cat turned tail and started pacing, giving him a glance of heavy sacs. Ah, they'd taken a

male. Impressive. He took another swallow of his rum, eyes held by the beast, by the way the

muscles moved beneath the shining black coat.

A knock on the door let him know that little Davy was back, and he bid the boy to enter.

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"Cap'n, there’s no sword, but Cook give me some scraps." A bowl of odds and ends were in

Davy's hands, bones and bits of this and that.

"Ah, that'll work better than trying to feed him on the end of a great big sharp sword." He took

the bowl from Davy. "Stand behind me, lad," he warned before he began to toss the ends into the

cage.

Wet, ebony nostrils flared, white fangs bared as the cat scented him, scented the food.

"Coo, lookit him, Cap'n. He's a monster."

"He is, isn't he? A beautiful, sleek, dangerous monster. 'Tis quite the gift."

"What will you do with him, sir? Won't you be afeared it will come for you in the night?"

"The cage is secure, Davy." He grinned. "Exciting, isn't it? To possess something so beautiful

and so dangerous."

"Aye. Aye." Davy offered him a smile, hero worship in those eyes.

"Have you had your rations tonight, Davy?" He went over to a basket of fruit they'd picked at

their last stop, likely where the panther had been picked up.

"No, Cap'n. I wanted to see the beast. Make sure you had all you needed."

The beast slunk over, keeping as far away from him as possible.

"Then go eat. And here." He picked up a coconut and tossed it at the boy, grinning as Davy's

reflexes kicked in and he caught it mid-air. "Don't waste the milk."

"Aye. Aye, thank you." He got a grin, Davy's front tooth gone missing after a meeting with the bo'sun's fist. He settled back in his chair and dipped his bread into the gravy to soften it, eyes returning to the cat that paced within its cage. "You need water, too, hmm? I like my hands as they are, though..." That low, rough rowl filled the cabin, the cat agreeing with him. He chuckled and went over to the cage again, crouching in front of the beast. "How thirsty will you have to be before you allow me to put a bowl with water into your cage, hmm?" Marco swore he could feel the rage, the pure dangerous fury filling the air. Yes, that was what he'd thought. This beast might well die before such a thing would be allowed.

He felt a kindred spirit in this beast: a wild, untamed beast that did not do well in cages, who

wanted only to be free.

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Panting, staring, he could smell the musk, the heat of the cat. It was mesmerizing. He nearly had his hand at the cage bars, reaching to touch, before he realized what he was doing and snatched it back. The damned beast was laughing at him.

"Laugh all you want, Gato. You're the one in the cage."

That sent the beast into a fury, body slamming against the bars again and again, making his heart

pound. Such power and passion. He had not seen its equal in so long. Not since he had defeated Captain Antonio of the Bella Princessa had he found anyone so passionate. Mmm... Antonio had been fun. Until he’d been tamed. The rattan bars began to bow as the cat continued to fly at them, blood staining the cage. Marco frowned. "Stop! You'll damage yourself." The last thing he wanted to see was this

magnificent beast bloody and broken.

Howling, the cat's voice lifted, joined with his.

"Si, Beauty. If I were in a cage, I'd be howling, too." Sighing he rolled back off his haunches and

sat on the floor where he was. "I'd be howling, too."

The cat slumped to the bottom of the cage, panting, staring into him. It surprised him -- he'd half

thought the cat would continue to beat itself against the cage until it passed out.

"What am I going to do with you?"

The huge black tail twitched like a whip, flicking the lock.

He threw his head back and laughed. "Si. I'm sure you'd like that. I bet I'd make a good meal for

those fine teeth of yours, too." He wondered what it would be like to tame this beast, to touch the silky fur. Said teeth were bared, just as if the cat understood his words.

"We'll figure you out, Gato." He got up and stretched, pulling off his blouse and settling back at

the little table, tugging the log book to him. He started his careful scrawl across the pages.

He heard the scrrrrrrape-scratch after only a few pages, and he looked over, the cat carefully

working one edge of the cage.

"Now, now, Beauty. I can't let you do that -- I like my throat in one piece."

Scrape-scratch.

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Scrape-scratch. Then that tail twitched. "I swear you can understand my words." "Merowl." "Can you?" He went back to the cage, crouching in front of it again, not able to hide his fascination with the beast. Those green eyes went wide, staring at him, unblinking. "Do you want some water, Beauty?" The very tip of that pink tongue slipped out. By all that was holy, the beast did understand him. He fetched his mug of water from the table. It would just fit between the bars. "I'll give it to you, but you must not take my fingers." The damnable beast nodded. Nodded. His heart was thumping fiercely as he pushed the mug in through the bars. The cat pounced immediately, lapping and drinking, nose stuck in the cup. Marco chuckled at the sight, the long whiskers pressed between muzzle and mug. That long tail flicked and swept, moving constantly, sliding on the bottom of the cage. Again the urge came over him to touch, to slide that long tail through his hands and find out if the black fur was as soft as it looked. "Would you maul me if I let you go, Beauty?" Those eyes flashed up to him, bright and glowing, the teeth as long as his little finger. Had he gone mad? He shook his head and backed away from the cage. Mesmerized. Those eyes were mesmerizing him. Magic. Perhaps he should toss the thing overboard. Perhaps little Davy was right. Perhaps it was a monster. Cats were bad luck to a sailor, after all. He took his blanket from the bunk and draped it over the cage, feeling better for not having those eyes watching his every move. The beast went still and silent and he almost forgot the cat was there. Marco set about finishing the day's log and placed his mostly uneaten food outside his door for Davy to take away. Pouring himself another rum, he settled on his bunk. He almost missed the twitch of the blanket around the cage. Not like a parrot, then, for a bird would be asleep with the blanket over him. He drank the rest of his rum, the roll of the boat lulling him near to sleep. The door to his cabin groaned and creaked, the night suddenly dark as pitch. He was up and out of bed in a flash, the knife from beneath his pillow in his hand as he blinked, trying to see.

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Nothing. Nothing but black. He knew there was a candle on the table and headed for it, tripping over the edge of the cage, which skittered across the floor in a way very much not like a huge animal was in it. "Dios Madre." Knife held tight in front of him, ready to strike, he made his way toward the table with its candle. Why couldn't he see? Something brushed against his leg, something warm and smooth, almost silken. He nearly jumped out of his skin, barely managing to contain his shout. It was the beast. It had to be. But why hadn't it attacked him? The door creaked again, the beast obviously unfamiliar with the latch. He almost laughed at himself. Bollocks -- he'd been bewitched. Thinking that a beast could work a latch. He hurried to the table and grabbed the flint, lighting the small candle so he could see. For a moment -- a heartbeat, a single breath, the life of that first spark -- he thought he saw a small, lean man, fingers raised to the latch. He lifted the candle, seeing nothing, only a tail disappearing beneath his bed. He shook his head. He'd had too much to drink. He went over to the cage and pulled away the blanket. The cage was empty, the door open. And there was a great big beast of a cat beneath his bed. Why hadn't the beast attacked him? Marco imagined he could hear the huge tail, sliding and swiping along the floor. Bending, he tried to see beneath the bunk. One paw flashed out, claws retracted, batting him painlessly. It was enough to make him back away, though. He stayed low, still trying to see, but giving the beast more room. "Why haven't you taken my throat yet, Beauty?" A low, gentle rowl answered him, soft as velvet. Oh, now. That wasn't a violent noise, not at all. Could he be asleep? Dreaming in his bunk that the beautiful black beast wasn't just waiting to kill him? "Will you come out?" That tail flashed out again, heavy and thick against his thigh. He had a feeling that meant 'no.' "Well, I can't just leave you in here like this." Nor could he hope to get to sleep, knowing the dangerous, beautiful beast was loose in here with him. That tail thudded hard against the floor, the tip vibrating. "You do realize there's nowhere else for you to go, do you not?" They were well into the ocean now, there would be no land anywhere to be seen. He was gifted with another long, sad meow, that big body shifting.

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"Will you not come out, Beauty? Let me get a good look at you." He was excited by the air of

danger that filled the room.

One paw flicked at the blankets, green eyes staring at him a moment. So very green -- those eyes

really were like gems. "There's more water and food in it if you do."

There was a soft growl, then the big cat moved -- so fast he nearly thought his mind played tricks. From the floor to the top of the cage to his decadent bedstead and then to top of the wardrobe, the wardrobe creaking under the weight. Marco gasped, standing quickly and holding the candle up. Those green eyes reflected the light back at him, the cat so black, it was hard to see where it began and the wall and furniture ended. The cat settled as if perfectly at home, perched and staring down at him. Damnation. He would need to have something to entice the beast down to him. He strode to the door and

opened it, bellowing for Davy to bring him more table scraps.

The little lad popped up from his pallet of blankets, blinking, hair askew. "Aye. Aye, Cap'n."

"Good lad."

He closed the door again and stared up into the beast's eyes. "Let's see how stubborn you are to

remain perched up there when there is food to be had."

The damnable beast began cleaning its face, lapping at its paws. It was teasing him. He didn't

care what anyone said; this beast understood his language and was taunting him. Those long

claws popped out and the cat cleaned them, one after another, tail swinging back and forth.

"You will come down!" He would not be mocked.

Marco went back to the door and bellowed again. "Where in the blessed Infant's damned name

are you, Davy?"

"Cook was sleepin'..." The boy's eyes went wide, fastened on the cat. "Cap'n..."

"Shh. Give me the meat and be gone. I'll not risk you, lad."

"It... should I get Matey with the net?" The bowl was handed over, the boy shaking violently.

"No, lad. Just go back to your bed and don't worry about the beast. I'll take care of it." He

escorted the lad out and closed the door. Then he turned back to the cat. "Look what I've got here, Beauty. More food. I bet you're hungry."

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"Rowwwwwwwl." Oh, that was an angry sound.

He had his knife out again and put the bowl on the floor, stepping away from it. "All you need to

do is come down."

The cat started rumbling, started turning, claws clacking on the top of the wardrobe.

"Come on, Beauty, you know you want it." He licked his lips and held out the knife, and then

laid it down on his bunk. "See? It is safe." The cat stopped, blinked at him. Then over at the knife. Yes. Yes, look, Beauty. He held his hands out. "Empty. No knife. I'll not be harming you and you'll return the favor." The cat leapt, the form fine and strong and...

Human.

Human.

Lean fingers wrapped around the knife, the man's green eyes flashing at him.

It took a moment for him to react, he was so stunned by the magic in front of him. He grabbed

for the... man's wrist, grabbing it and twisting. The cat -- man -- snarled, pulling away and

slashing with the knife. He jumped back out of the way, nearly tripping over the cage. The man backed toward the door, breath coming quick and light, nostrils flaring. Guttural sounds left the man, the green eyes huge as they stared him down. "Stop. Stop now. I've said I'll not hurt you." He spread his arms out again, showing his palms. Those eyes were filled with a terror -- he was no monk, he knew the look. Long black hair tumbled around the thin shoulders; bruises and scars were evident on the bare skin. "I don't know what manner of magic has been done to you, but I'll not hurt you and I may be a scoundrel, but I'm a man of my word." He took a careful step forward.

A soft, frightened sound left the man, the knife shaking violently.

"Shh. Shh, now." He took another step forward, talking softly.

More little sounds poured from the man, husky and soft, mesmerizing.

"I don't understand you." He kept his arms wide, moved closer.

Emerald eyes. Pure jewel. Marco could see himself in them. He kept slowly moving, advancing

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on the man, holding those eyes. He moved so carefully, sliding the knife away from the trembling hand, not jarring the cat-man at all. He tossed the knife back toward the bed. "There, now, Beauty. That's better."

He could smell the fear, sour, scared scent that filled the air. "I'm not going to hurt you." He

touched one trembling shoulder.

Those white teeth were bared, a keening sound in the air.

"Shh now, shh." He stroked the bare shoulder.

Those eyes shot down to the bowl of food.

He nodded. "You can eat."

Marco stepped back again, picking up the bowl, offering it.

The man seemed to dissolve, the cat appearing as quickly as it had disappeared. The bowl was

attacked, food devoured.

He frowned. This was no beast trapped out of the jungle. Well... being also a man, that was a

given, but it was most obvious that the man, or beast, had felt the lash more than once, he was

sure of it.

It ate as if starved, then leapt to the top of the wardrobe again, settling with a grunt.

"I know your secret now, Beauty." Not that he entirely believed it. Perhaps he'd had too much

rum before he'd fallen asleep...

"Rowwl."

"If you came down here and were the man again, we could talk." He'd not been so fascinated

with anything in too long.

The cat gave him another long look, a twitch of the whiskers. Then the green eyes closed.

He settled himself comfortably, but didn't blow out the candle. He didn't think he'd get much

sleep this night. *** He watched. The man, The Cap In, would leave and he would see the opening work. The Cap In. Abrigo

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licked his lips, and blinked, the motions of the boat trying to soothe him into sleep. He fought the

urge, dozing and waking, over and over, until he finally succumbed, dozing.

A noise woke him. A deep rubbing sound. The man was snoring. Abrigo leapt down, leaned in

and growled back, softly. Fascinating, kind man. The man snorted, shifted. Stopped snoring.

Abrigo purred a bit, and settled down to watch. He could smell the hint of fear. A few moments later the rumbling noise started again. How incredibly entertaining. He purred back, stretching out alongside the man. Warm. This one was warm. The man turned toward him, the noise getting louder. He nuzzled, licked the man's cheek. Salty. That stopped the noises, but made the man smile. He stilled, watching a little more. He waited for the man-purring to start again, waiting for the soft, sleep sounds. He needed out. Out. The man sighed, his eyes blinking slowly open. Abrigo tilted his head, looking back. The one

that looked away first, that was the beta male. The man had brown eyes.

"Am I dreaming?" He knew those words. He knew.

"Rowl."

"No, I don't think I am, Beauty. You're far too real." The man did not look away, so sure, so

strong. "Just look at you. I've never seen eyes the color of yours. Green, si, but not like yours."

Green, like the jungle. Green. He knew green.

"Why haven't you torn my throat out yet?" One hand reached out toward him.

He sniffed at the fingers, fascinated. No man had touched him without pain. This one had.

The fingers slid over his muzzle, and up between his ear. "Dios, so soft."

He purred, sniffing. Somewhere in the back of his head he could hear Diego, the Alpha, growling

at him for looking, needing. Always curious.

"What are you, Beauty? Not a cat, not a man. Somehow both. I don't understand." Men never

understood. This meant nothing to him. Those fingers continued to move over his fur. "Will you

change again?"

He stretched, claws digging into the soft nest the man made. This form was stronger.

"No? Pity." The man's fingers massaged his ruff.

Oh.

Oh.

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He purred, claws rolling.

"Oh, you like that, do you?" The fingers dug in deeper.

Yes. Good. His eyes crossed, paws kneading the air. The man made another sound. Laughter. It

blew against his face. But the fingers kept moving, scratching, digging in just right. The fingers

touched a sore spot and he hissed, jumping away, hackles raised. Hurt.

The man frowned. "Que pasa, guapo? What's wrong, Beauty?"

He shifted, protecting the hurt part. Sticks. They had poked him with sticks.

"You don't want me to pet there? That's fine." The man's hand returned, patting the top of his

head again. "You're so soft; your fur draws my touch."

The soft caresses eased him, helped him relax. Petting. He liked the petting.

"So what do I have to do to talk to your other self, hmm?"

Abrigo considered this. As a man, he could maybe get out. As the cat, he was safe... He

concentrated on his man-self, the cat dissolving.

The man gasped, backing away slightly. "Dios! I had wondered if I had imagined that part."

Reaching out for him, the man touched his shoulder.

He blinked, looked at the hand on his body. Dark. The man was dark.

"Look at the scars on you. Did my men do this?"

"Men do. Cage men." The men who raided the jungle came with sharp sticks.

"They couldn’t have known you were a man as well."

"No." That was his secret.

"I think maybe we'll keep that our secret, Beauty. For now it would be best if my pirates did not

know that you are more than just a cat." That hand was still on his shoulder, the fingers stroking his skin like it was fur. He nodded, looking toward the door. "Out."

The man shook his head. "Not as a man. As a cat, maybe. If you promise to stay by my side, to

obey me."

Obey? He snorted, tossed his head. His type did not obey.

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"We'll have to find you some clothes. Mine won't fit -- far too big." The man's eyes swept down over his body, an almost purring sound coming out of the man's throat. Abrigo tilted his head, a bit confused by the words, fascinated by the purring.

"You are as lovely a man as you are a cat." The man peered into his eyes suddenly. "Your name.

What is your name?"

"Abrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrigo."

"Abrigo?" His heart-name sounded fascinating in the man speak. Always.

"Abrigo."

"Abrigo. And I am Marco."

"Marrrrrrrrrrco." He liked that. He truly did. "Marrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrco."

The man -- Marco -- chuckled. "I like the way that sounds on your tongue, Abrigo."

He nodded, purring back at the man before standing, stretching out.

Marco stared at him. "I should get you something to wear..."

He shrugged, sliding his hands over his body. He did not wear man's clothes.

Marco swallowed loudly. "A pair of breeches, at least." Marco's voice was low, rough.

"I will change." He stretched and purred, thinking of his tail, his whiskers.

"Perhaps that would be for the best. Oh! I wonder if that will ever not be amazing..." Marco

licked his lips.

He purred and rubbed against Marco's legs before leaping up to the top of the wardrobe and

settling.

"Abrigo. What am I going to do with you?"

He twitched his tail. Feed him. Let him out.

"I know what I want to do with you." The words were so quietly spoken, he almost did not hear

them.

"Rowl." Feed him.

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"I can't understand you in this form, Beauty."

Well, what nonsense. He made perfect sense.

Marco looked out a small hole in the wall. "It'll be morning soon. Would you like to see my ship

once we have daylight? You'll have to promise to stay at my side, but if you do, won't that be a

wonder for my men to see?"

His tail twitched. He could see...

And promises were flexible as his own spine...

"Rowl."

"Is that a yes, Abrigo? I surely hope so, I'd hate to see anyone hurt -- especially you." The man

opened the door. "Davy? Run and see if Cook has food on yet. And get some more scraps for the

cat."

"He didn't hurt you, Cap'n? I see..." The boy talked faster and faster and he could not listen, it

made his brain spin.

Marco finally sent the boy off and closed the door again. "You're going to have their tongues

wagging, Abrigo, although I imagine they already were. I'm still not sure what possessed them to

bring you for me."

He answered easily, telling the Marco-man about the slavers and the trappers and the kind-eyed

man that bought him and the trip to the boat.

Marco shook his head. "I don't understand your cat-language, Abrigo. You should change back

to man."

He rowled softly, tail curling around him. He was safe here, like this. Safe. Comfortable.

"Well, I suppose you can tell me later. Come down, Abrigo, sit with me. I would like to touch

you again."

He purred, considering, only hopping down when the Marco-man sat. The Marco-man smiled,

reaching for him. Curling up beside the man, he settled, allowed himself to be petted. "So soft. It's like your fur draws my hand." His muscles jumped and rolled, shifting under that firm touch. The Marco-man's fingers hit the wound on his shoulder, making him hiss. "Sorry,

Abrigo. The wound is in the same place on the man-you, isn't it?"

Of course it was. The bruise was deep, the bones sore.

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"Will it heal on its own? We don't have a proper butcher aboard -- haven't since our last skirmish with the damned King's fleet." Marco continued to stroke and pat him, steering clear of the place that hurt. He rowled softly. Of course, he would heal. He was strong.

The Marco-man's hand stilled. "That sound, that particular sound is an affirmative, isn't it?"

He rowled again. Of course it was. Silly man.

Oh, but the Marco-man had a nice laugh. "I'm learning to speak cat!"

He chuffed, stretching a little. Like it was difficult.

The petting was done in long strokes now, Marco's hand sliding from his neck all the way back

to the base of his tail. "You really are a beautiful creature."

Purring happily, Abrigo preened. Beautiful. Yes. Another happy laugh sounded, the petting continuing. It was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Cap'n? I've your breakfast. And some table scraps for the cat, though Cook says if we're going to need to feed him constantly, we're gonna need more supplies sooner 'n later." "Come in, lad."

Abrigo turned and leapt, settling back atop the wardrobe, staring down fiercely at the little man.

The one called Davy squeaked and looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

"Do not worry, Davy, he won't hurt you."

He yawned lazily, making sure his teeth showed.

"I don't know, Cap'n. Those are mighty big teeth!"

Marco laughed and clapped the little man on the shoulder. "You've scraps for him and I'm sure

he'd rather eat those than you. Now leave my gruel on the table and the cat's scraps on the floor

and go find your own breakfast, lad."

"Aye, Cap'n. Aye. You... You watch yer back, eh?" Little Davy's hands were shaking.

"Don't you worry about me, lad. We have an understanding, my cat and me."

"An understanding? Aye, Cap'n..." The Marco-man patted the little man on the back again and

sent him out, the door closing again.

Fur and Fang - 18

Settling in the chair at the table, Marco pointed to the bowl on the floor. "Those are for you,

Beauty."

He leapt down, growling happily. Meat.

Meat.

Meat.

The Marco-man began to eat from his bowl. It was something lumpy and gray and did not smell

at all like meat. It could not be very good because the Marco-man talked to him while eating.

"Do you ever eat in your human form?"

His tail twitched. Why would he do that? Men's teeth were dull and they had no claws.

"We should have a dinner one night. You and me and the best the cook can come up with. As

long as he still has the spices. There's no point if it's dull and boring like his morning porridge

always is."

Porridge. He leaned, sniffed, nose wrinkling.

The Marco-man chuckled. "Si, Beauty. It isn't very exciting." Still, Marco dipped a finger into

the bowl and held it out to him.

He lapped the gray mass, shaking his head. Oh. Oh, terrible. No. No. He took a strip of meat

from his bowl and added it to Marco's mess. There. Meat. Better.

"Ah, thank you, Abrigo, but I like my meat after it's had a little fire under it. You keep it." The

meat was offered back to him.

He snapped it up, purring happily. Good meat.

"We're going to have to find a port soon to keep you in fresh meat, Beauty. That should make the

crew happy as well." The Marco-man finished his bad food, and stood. "Are you ready to go see

my ship, Abrigo?"

He rowled. He could see. He could go.

"Remember you must stay at my side and cannot hurt anyone, Abrigo. It is for your own safety."

He would consider it.

Seriously.

Marco tapped his thigh. "Come here, Abrigo, and stay close."

Fur and Fang - 19

He hopped down off the bed, refusing to be commanded. They had not decided who was the

alpha.

"Do you want to go see the ship or not?"

"Rowl." Of course he did. He just wasn't sure about obeying.

"Well, come on, then. I'm ready to get out of the cabin myself. Get some fresh sea air..."

The door opened, and he followed the man up to the stairs where the sun shone brightly, making

him snarl and growl, grabbing the back of Marco's coat. No.

No.

You do not go out in the sun.

That was a Law.

"What's wrong, Abrigo? You change your mind about seeing my ship?" The Marco-man

stopped, was frowning.

He growled, tugged harder. It was a Law.

"I don't understand you. I thought you were coming to see my ship?"

He would.

He would. In the night.

Marco shook his head and turned, heading back to the cabin. "I can't have you snarling and

growling and misbehaving like this abovedecks. My men would lose all respect for me."

Abrigo bounded back, pleased. Yes. Do not go out into the light.

"You want to change back into a man and tell me what all that was about? Or at least tell me

what you want to do, because obviously I had it wrong."

The door shut and he leapt onto the bed, settling in before considering himself as a man.

Legs.

Long legs.

There.

Fur and Fang - 20

"Dios! I will never get tired of that." Marco came to sit on the edge of the bed, hand sliding on his leg, eyes looking him up and down. "The sun is up." Perhaps the Marco-man was broken, did not understand.

The Marco-man continued to look confused. "Yes, I know the sun is up. What has that got to do

with anything?"

"You do not go out in sun. It is Law." Silly man.

"Ah! That makes sense for the jungle, but it doesn't work that way on board ship." The Marco-

man's hand still lay on his leg, heavy and warm.

"It is Law." He purred softly, a nap calling to him.

"Jungle law -- but we're on a boat now, Beauty."

He shrugged, confused. What did that matter?

The hand on his leg began to pet, warm and stroking over his skin. "There's nothing wrong with

daylight on my ship, Abrigo. As long as you're at my side, you're safe."

"No sun." So good. He rubbed and purred happily, enjoying the touch.

"All right, all right, I get it. No sun. But I still have to go up during the day. You'll have to stay

here." The touch crept up along his thigh, the Marco-man's voice changing, growing husky.

"Mmm." He turned, rolling this way and that under that touch.

"Abrigo..." The Marco-man bent over him, bringing their lips together, pressing warm and wet

against his mouth.

He gasped, blinking, licking inside Marco's mouth, tasting. Curious.

Marco groaned. "Oh, you're a temptation, Abrigo."

"Is... is that good?"

"It is if you want me to be tempted..." Marco's hand slid toward his middle.

He tilted his head, trying to understand. That hand slid around his cock, stroking it as Marco's

dark eyes looked into his own, almost searching. He growled, hips rolling, and his legs drew up. Oh. Oh, touching.

Fur and Fang - 21

"Hot," murmured Marco. "You're hot and you taste good." Marco's lips pressed on his again, tongue sliding into his mouth. He didn't know that men wanted this, too. Like this. He hummed and pressed closer, the pleasure fierce. The Marco-man's clothes interfered, but he could still feel the heat of the man's need against his thigh. Growling a little, Abrigo tugged and tore, wanting skin. "Yes, Beauty. Yes." Marco helped, fingers leaving his skin to pull the clothes away from the Marco-man's body. Oh. Better. He nuzzled, licking and lapping at the salty skin, tongue sliding over Marco's body. "Dios, Abrigo, so eager." Marco's hands slid over his skin, tickling when they passed by his armpits, making him moan when they approached his nipples. Eager. Eager was good. Eager was just hungry. Marco's lips pressed against his, tongue slipping into his mouth, sliding against his own. Tasting. He liked tasting. Abrigo rubbed hard, his cock full and needy, liking the feel of Marco's skin. Marco's weight landed on him, pressing him down into the bunk. A surprised sound pushed out of him, and he stilled, trying to decide whether to submit or fight. "I'm not going to hurt you," murmured the Marco-man, hips moving, sliding the heat of their pricks together. The sensation made his eyes wide and his body arched, submitting to the Alpha instinctively. "Yes, Abrigo, like that." Marco kept moving, pushing him into the mattress and making their pricks bump and slide together. "Yessss..." He growled, panting and begging for more. Marco's finger slid down and touched his cock, his balls. So warm and good. Abrigo panted, hips rolling, soft little sounds tearing from him. That hand slid behind his balls, stroking the skin behind them. He rowled, arching up, hips bucking away. More. More. "So hot. So very hot." Marco's fingers stroked from his balls to his ass over and over. He turned over beneath Marco, hips canting, body begging for something he didn't understand. "Abrigo. Oh. Oh, yes, Beauty." Marco's tongue slid along his spine, moving down and down, as a finger stroked over his hole. Sounds poured out of him, low and raw and rough, begging for more touches, more licks. The hot man hands grabbed his buttocks and spread them, Marco's face burying between them. The

Fur and Fang - 22

licks continued then, warm and wet against his crack, his hole. He didn't know what to think,

where to look, how to breathe. Abrigo shuddered, shook with it, entire body alight.

The man's tongue slid back and forth over his hole, over and over. Then it stabbed into him. Yes!

His nails tore into the sheets, back arching like he'd been beaten. It happened again, and then

again, Marco all but eating him, hands holding his hips and beginning to pull them back on that

tongue.

All of his thoughts disappeared, only his need and passion remaining.

Hands sliding on his skin, that tongue pierced him. And then suddenly it was gone. He

whimpered, moaned, scrabbling on the sheets.

"Shh. Shh. I won't leave you wanting." Something thick and hard and very hot pressed against

his hole.

He rowled, unsettled, unsure, but so very, very HOT. Marco's fingers stroked his spine, that hard

heat pushing, insisting, spreading him. Head tossing, he panted and groaned, desperate to solve

this tension within him. He was spread wider, Marco pushing deeper until he could feel the

man's hips against his asscheeks.

"Need to move, Abrigo."

"I." His chest ached, his breath caught. "I need. Please."

"Need. Yes." Marco began to move, prick sliding in and out of him.

Burned. It burned. Stretched. Ached. He shook and panted, not knowing what to do.

One of Marco's hands slid past his hips, wrapped around his prick, and began to tug.

Yes.

Yes.

His body convulsed, his motions faster, harder, better.

"Si! Si, Abrigo!" Marco's movements speeded as well, slamming into him, filling him.

The burn became something bigger, something better. Something huge. And then Marco touched

something inside him, hit it, and hit it again. Seed poured from him in a rush that surprised him, made his body squeeze and tighten. Marco cried out, hips jerking the flesh inside him, and then heat sprayed, filling him so deep inside. Abrigo slumped into the sheets, shuddering hard, eyes rolling in his skull. Marco followed him down, heavy, solid on his back. He went boneless, quiet, submitting to the Alpha as he was

Fur and Fang - 23

meant to. His reward was sweet kisses to the back of his neck, his shoulders, and a lovely

stroking along his side and hip.

Purring, he fought to keep his form, at least until sleep took him, dragged him down into dreams.

Good man. Very good man.

*** A knock on his door woke Marco up, the cat sleeping next to him, warm and purring softly. A man could get used to a fur blanket like this one. He had to clear his throat twice before the words came out, another knock sounding in the

meantime.

"Who is it?"

"Davy, Cap'n. The crew're wondering if you're going to stay abed all day?"

"No, no. Of course not."

He sat up, blinking and shaking his head, trying to figure out how long he'd slept.

The cat lifted its head, moving only enough to leap atop the wardrobe and curl up, muzzle hidden

beneath the huge paws.

Beautiful beast.

Sexy man.

"Come on in, Davy."

He searched for his breeches, finding them hanging over the edge of the cage where they'd been

thrown. "What time is it, then?"

"Nearly dusk, Cap'n. Things are good, we're heading due south, as you asked." Little Davy's eyes

crept up to Abrigo's perch, again and again.

Dusk. Excellent. Then Abrigo would come out with him. "What do you think the men will think

of my beast?"

"That he's huge, Cap'n. So big."

"He is. A big, beautiful male." He laughed happily, and patted Davy on the back. "Abrigo will

not eat you. Unless I tell him to -- spread the word."

Fur and Fang - 24

"A... Abrigo? Is that what you named it?" "Him. That's his name." He smiled up at the beast on top of his armoire. "Come on down, Beauty. I want to show you my empire." That long tail flicked and Abrigo stretched, long and slow, before bouncing down. "See, Davy? Isn't he beautiful?" He stroked Abrigo's head. Abrigo rowled softly, nuzzling his fingers. "Mmm..." He continued to pet the beast, Davy looking at him with wide eyes. The cat stretched for him, claws going in and out and in. Oh, his men were going to think him a magician. Chuckling, he opened the door. "Come on, then. Now we will see my ship, Abrigo." This time, Abrigo came easily, curious and clever, emerald eyes looking at everything. They wandered abovedecks as he showed off his Beauty to the crew, and showed his crew and ship to the cat. The crew was, to a man, terrified, pulling back and staring at Abrigo like the cat was some sort of demon. Their fear of Abrigo was not unwelcome; it would keep the cat safe. He climbed to the bow, standing with the wind in his face, the spray from the ocean raining on him. "Do you like my ship, Abrigo?" The cat stared, tail twitching as Abrigo looked at the endless ocean. "Rowl." "Yes," he agreed. "Just us and the ocean. There is no master here but the ones we choose for ourselves." Those emerald eyes stared up at him, the look seeming to be slightly panicked. Of course, it made sense. This dear creature knew jungle and forests, heavy cover and trees. "Fear not, Abrigo. I will not let harm come to you. And soon this place will feel like home." The big black head tilted, a questioning trill leaving the cat. "We're traveling away from your jungles, my Beauty. To the other side of the world." He scratched behind the big cat's ears. The dark ears went flat, the cat backing away. "There is nowhere to go, Abrigo." He reached for his cat. Claws clacked on the deck, a steady, high-pitched whine on the air. "Abrigo!" Surely the cat knew when he'd been taken, caged, and brought on the boat that he was leaving his home. Abrigo headed for the rail, breath panting from him, wild sounds on the air. He hurried after, worried Abrigo would throw himself into the water. "There's nothing but water, Beauty. There is nowhere to go." He could feel the heavy pounding of Abrigo's heart, feel the fear. He'd known men who'd done the same, panicked when they realized they could no longer see

Fur and Fang - 25

land. He knelt next to the cat, looped an arm around its neck. "You'll get used to it, Beauty." The

heavy head hid under his arm, tail twitching violently.

"I'm sorry, Abrigo, but that's how it is." He rubbed his hand over Abrigo's head. Abrigo yowled

at him, arguing, complaining. "I have no desire to see you unhappy, but you can plainly see there

is no land, and when we do come upon it, it will not be your home. Those are simple facts,

Abrigo."

The muscled body pulled away, moving down the deck, at first slowly, then faster. He followed,

trying to look unconcerned. The last thing he wanted was one of his motley crew deciding

Abrigo was a danger and trying to take the big cat out. "Abrigo."

"Rrrrrowl." The cat turned, tongue out as he panted.

He knelt by the cat again, rubbing Abrigo's head, scratching his ears. "It must be a shock." The

big head bobbed, just barely, Abrigo agreeing. "I'm sorry, Beauty. Maybe we should go back to

the cabin, you can change and we can discuss it."

"Cap'n?" Davy was at his elbow, eyes wide. "Is it hurt?"

"His heart is, lad. He's used to the wild green lands we've left. And now there's no land as far as

the eye can see."

"Aye." Davy nodded. The lad knew about this; he'd come from soot-stained streets, where

urchins begged for scrap and coin.

"You have any of that penny candy left, boy?" Maybe a bit of sweet would cheer Abrigo.

"I do." Davy opened the little paper, offering it easily. Generous lad.

"Well done." He took one of the hard candies and held it out to Abrigo. "Try it, Beauty. You

might find you like it."

That pink tongue flicked out, lapping the sweet from his palm. Then the green eyes crossed in

pleasure.

He laughed, and clapped Davy on the back. "Look at that, lad."

"Does that means he likes it, Cap'n?"

"I would wager it does." Abrigo would see that life on a ship was good, like the sweet.

"Good. Good, Cap'n."

Abrigo rumbled and growled, purring softly. He rubbed the big cat's head; would the softness of

that black fur ever stop being a marvel?

Fur and Fang - 26

"Would you like to pet him?" he asked the lad.

"Will he bite?"

"Let's ask him, shall we?" He turned to Abrigo. "Davy would like to pet you. Will you bite him if

he does?"

Abrigo yawned, teeth showing, long pink tongue lolling out.

"I'm pretty sure that's a no, Davy. Go on, pat him on top of his head -- he's really very soft."

Davy pressed close, hand reaching out and stroking over Abrigo's pelt. "Oh. Oh, he's warm."

"Por supuesto. And soft. And a beauty." And all his.

Abrigo stretched out long, nails scratching on the deck.

"Careful of his shoulder," Marco warned, his own hands sliding down along Abrigo's spine. The

soft fur drew his hands, made him want to touch more. He remembered the silk of Abrigo's skin when he was a man. That made him want to touch, too. "Aye, Cap'n. I'll be easy." The crew was staring, a few of them making the sign of the evil eye. He stared each man down in turn. And then he turned his back on them and looked out at the ocean again. Abrigo flopped down on the desk, tail wrapping around his ankle. That was right. Abrigo wasn't going anywhere and the crew had best get used to it. *** He paced. Back. Forth. Back. His man was out there. Out in the big water. In the sunlight. With the wide sky.

Fur and Fang - 27

"Yowl!" He swatted the sheets, tearing them into shreds. The door opened some minutes later, Marco coming in. "Abrigo? Davy said you were making strange noi...ses. What have you done to my bed?" He snarled and yowled, head tossing. The Law said you did not go out in the sun! "I don't understand cat!" He head-butted Marco, growling. That was not his problem! "You're mad at me, yes. That I understand. But why?" He stared, stunned. How could the man not know? Marco crouched in front of him, hands sliding over his muzzle, his head, scratching at his ears.

"You should become a man, Abrigo. I understand your speech then."

He nuzzled in, licking at Marco's fingers.

He could.

He... Abrigo closed his eyes, focused.

"Dios, you are simply amazing."

He blinked, licked his lips. "Marrrco."

The man smiled at him, face coming close as Marco pressed their lips together. He forgot about

his frustration, his fury, his anger, tongue sliding out to taste his man. The Marco-man moaned,

tongue tangling with his. He could hear the soft moan, feel it vibrating against his lips. He

pressed close, arms wrapping around the broad shoulders. This was right. Good. Safe. "Your skin is as soft as your fur," murmured Marco, hands sliding warmly over him. He purred and arched, twisting in Marco's touch. "So sensual." Marco pushed him over onto his back, the floor cold and hard, but the man on top of him was hot, skin supple, soft.

He groaned, lapping at Marco's lips, arching under that heat. Marco's groans were not as good as

his own purrs, but they told him nonetheless that his man was enjoying their touches, the kissing.

Fur and Fang - 28

The torn sheets hung down and tickled his back, made him chuff and roll. His reaction had

Marco laughing against his skin, the man's mouth very hot against his skin.

Abrigo rumbled and played, fingers sliding down to tickle and pinch, to play. Marco jerked and

slid against him, fingers returning the touches, mouth sliding down his body. That mouth excited

him, fascinated him, made him moan and jerk and push into Marco's fingers.

"You ever had someone kiss your cock, Beauty?" Marco looked up at him, brown eyes shining

before sucking on one of his nipples.

"Kiss? No bite." No biting him there.

"Kiss, Abrigo. I've no desire to hurt you." His nipple was circle, then the other licked, sucked.

"Mmm. Kiss. Kiss is good." He liked kissing.

"Yes. This is even better than regular kisses." Marco's mouth went around his navel, tongue

flicking through it.

"I like kisses." Regular kisses. Other kisses.

Marco nodded, chin bumping against his hardness. The bristly whiskers brushed him, made him

jerk and gasp.

"Going to taste you now, Abrigo, kiss your cock." Marco bent, taking the tip of his cock into the

hot, hot mouth.

Oh.

He went stiff, breath stilled in his chest.

Hot.

Marco's tongue flicked back and forth across the tip, fingers sliding to rub his belly. Abrigo

yowled and twisted, feet thrumming on the floorboards. A chuckle vibrated against his most

sensitive skin, and Marco took a bit more into his mouth.

He needed.

He needed.

He needed.

Staring down at Marco, he howled out his pleasure.

Fur and Fang - 29

"I like that sound, Beauty. Let me see if I can make you make it again." And then Marco took him inside that mouth again. So hot. So very hot. He offered up his pleasure, his joy, his sounds, over and over. Marco's head moved up and down, mouth taking more and more of him in. It was so much, so big. So big. His hands found Marco's head and he bucked up, humping, moaning desperately. Marco's fingers wrapped around his hips, helping him move, the suction around his cock very strong. He could not even warn of his climax. All he could do was jerk and sob and come. He could feel Marco's throat closing around the tip of his cock, making his pleasure last and last. Everything went quiet and heated, his heart slamming within his chest. Licking and sucking and swallowing, Marco kept him in the hot mouth until he stopped shuddering. Then his cock slipped from between Marco's lips. Abrigo purred, rolling to touch, to snuggle. Marco drew him close, cock pushing hard against his thigh as their lips pressed together. His legs parted, letting Marco in. Marco pushed two fingers into his mouth, eyes hot and wild, body moving against him. Then those fingers pressed into him, stretching. "Mate." He nodded and drew one leg up, relaxed and pleased, heated all through. The man froze, eyes on his, the fingers inside slipping away. Hot, hard, Marco's prick pushed against him now, demanding entrance. Stretched. He stretched and ached and arched and took that heavy prick deep, yowling with it. Marco stilled when he was all the way in. Bringing their foreheads together and panting. "Now, Abrigo. Dios, I must move now." Nodding, Abrigo pushed their mouths together, their tongues tangling. Kissing him, Marco began to move, that thick flesh sliding inside him, stretching him over and over. He met each thrust, hips rolling, their flesh slapping together. Their mouths parted on a gasp as Marco shifted, and then that something inside him was being hit, making everything bigger, better. His shoulders left the mattress, his entire body going tight with pleasure. Marco smiled fiercely and pushed into him harder, faster. Cock filling again, Abrigo thrashed, desperate for that sensation again and again. Marco gave it to him, sliding into him and brushing that place inside him like he was never going to stop. His man was panting as if Marco had been running through the jungle, the hand on Abrigo's hip digging in, pulling him close. Their eyes locked and pleasure flooded him, heat pouring once more from his prick. "Abrigo!" His name was a shout, Marco jerking and filling him inside with more heat. He moaned, clinging as he fought to catch his breath. Marco's gasps blew warm and soft against his skin, and even warmer and softer kisses were pressed to his shoulder, his neck.

Fur and Fang - 30

"Mmm." His purrs filled the air, his tension melted away.

His man chuckled softly. "Better, Abrigo?"

"Yes. Yes. Better." He nuzzled and licked at Marco's throat.

"Did you need me so much you tore my sheets to shreds?"

"You were in the sun. That is wrong."

"I have to go into the sun, Abrigo. My crew would think something was wrong if I did not. It

isn't the same here on the ocean as it was for you in the jungle." So his man kept saying.

He didn't believe a word of it. "Dangerous."

Marco pushed his hair off his face, fingers lingering and warm on his skin. "It isn't, I swear it.

You could come up with me and see for yourself."

"No. No, it is a Law." He purred softly, pushing toward the touch.

"It's the law where you come from, not for this ship. My word is law here, and I say it's perfectly

safe to go out in the sunlight."

Abrigo considered that, tried to understand how it might be true. Could a man be Law?

"Who told you that it was the law not to go out in the sunlight?"

"My Alpha."

"Well, there you go -- he made the law for you where you come from, but here on this ship I'm

the Alpha, so my word is law." Marco's hand landed on his buttocks and dragged him in closer,

his man's body warm.

Oh.

Oh, that was... better.

Abrigo nodded and cuddled in with a soft sigh. Especially with Marco in here, out of the sun.

"So will you come up with me later?"

"I will think about it." There. He would see how much of an Alpha Marco was.

"Well, while you're thinking, no more yowling -- it scares the crew. And no more tearing my

sheets, either. There isn't an unlimited supply."

Fur and Fang - 31

He yowled softly, almost pouting. He'd been worried.

"I still don't understand cat, Abrigo." Marco leaned in and kissed his mouth. "Use your man

words."

"I. I worry. I worry for you."

"Then come up with me and see. We will both be safe and then you won't worry." Marco's hands

slid along his spine, the touch easy and light, good.

"You could stay. Nap." He could nap.

"I will, but only if you'll come up with me after."

That seemed... fair. "Yes."

Later, there might not be a sun.

*** Marco still hadn't convinced Abrigo to come out on deck in the sunlight. He'd made a deal, which had backfired on him, the sun already almost gone by the time he and Abrigo had woken

up. So now he was going to try again.

They'd made love and napped, and he still had Abrigo the man with him, who he found easier to

have a conversation with. He cut up a piece of mango, offering Abrigo a slice. Abrigo purred for

him, licking and lapping at his fingers.

"Mmm..." He leaned in and licked at Abrigo's tongue and lips. "Come up with me."

Abrigo vibrated, chasing his tongue. "Up."

"Yes. And I mean up onto the deck." He winked. "Not... you know, up."

Abrigo chuffed and rolled him, licking his cheeks above his beard. He laughed, sliding his hands

through Abrigo's hair, reaching for that tongue with his own. Abrigo had washed only hours ago,

the scent of male and soap luxurious.

"Mmm... you taste good, Beauty."

The long black hair pooled around him, heavy and sweet-smelling, silken.

"You're distracting me on purpose," he murmured, absolutely willing to be convinced he should

stay where he was instead of going up abovedecks.

Fur and Fang - 32

"I am?" His mouth was explored, those little purrs pushing into his lips.

"Yes." It was working, too, his prick growing hard, his interest in taking Abrigo up and out into

the sunlight taking second place behind this.

"Mmm." He loved to hear Abrigo purr in any form, loved to feel it vibrate his body.

He rolled the slender body beneath him, letting Abrigo feel his weight. Feel the way that caused

Abrigo to stretch, to go long beneath him, that long body rubbing against him. It made him hard and he started rocking, pushing down against his Beauty's body as he looked into the impossibly green eyes. "Mmmmate." Hands traced his face, his shoulders. "Marrrrrrrrrrrco."

Dios, he loved the way Abrigo touched him, looked at him. "I want you."

"Yes. I want." Abrigo hummed, nodding, tongue sliding against his lips.

He'd never had a lover as responsive as Abrigo, a lover whose appetites matched his own.

Groaning, he captured Abrigo's questing tongue between his lips, sucking on it. Abrigo yowled and arched, cock hard against his thigh. They started rocking, the lead of the kiss passing back and forth, the passion soaring, and... "Cap'n!" Davy pounded on the door. "Cap'n, there a ship!"

"Dios!" He framed Abrigo's face. "I have to go, Beauty."

"I should come?"

He shook his head. "It could be dangerous. Out here, the sun is not the danger, other ships could

be."

Abrigo growled softly, the cat appearing with that shudder and shiver.

"It might not be safe for you up there, but if you come up, you stay close." Marco started pulling

on his breeches, his blouse.

"Rrrowl." Abrigo paced, panting, green eyes seeming to flash.

"Yes, I had a thought that you wouldn't stay down here. Come, then, let's go see if we're in for a

fight or not." He grinned wildly. "We could have our first prize since leaving your lands."

Abrigo bared his teeth, nosing at the door.

Davy banged again. "Cap'n! Hurry!"

Fur and Fang - 33

He flung it open. "We're coming, lad. You get your sword and stay belowdecks. I expect you to

defend my cabin should they get past us. Got that, lad?"

"Aye. Aye, Cap'n. Abrigo stayin' with me?"

He looked at the big cat. "It's up to him."

And then he strode toward the stairs, letting Abrigo make up his own mind. He heard the click-

clack of Abrigo's claws on the planks, right at his heels.

He went abovedecks, smiling. He was the king of his jungle. *** The scent of blood and burning filled his nose, the screams of men and the blasts of the huge metal firesticks disorienting him, confusing him. Abrigo crouched, taking swipes at anyone that passed by. Marco had disappeared and, with the smoke and fire and blood, Abrigo couldn't find him. Someone came at him with a sword and he snarled, claws flashing out, the blade slicing into his skin enough to sting. A loud cry split the air and the man with the sword went down under the weight of another man's body, sword clattering to the deck. Marco jumped up, the other man did not. His man backed up toward him, sword flashing once or twice. "Abrigo! Dios Madre, you're safe!"

He yowled, heading closer. His mate. Oh. He'd been lost. Scared. Worried. Confused.

Marco's free hand landed on his head, patting. It was dripping in blood. "It's all over but the

killing of a few more sailors. It was a ship of the English navy and we have bested the evil

mongrels." Marco's voice was fierce, and there was a wildness in his eyes.

The words made no sense, but the wildness did. He knew the heat of the hunt.

"I need to make sure we got all the ones that came over. Stay close!" With another yell, Marco

took off to the right, sword raised. Abrigo followed, crouching low to the ground, muscles

bunched, everything in him screaming to run.

Marco killed two more men before the smoke began to clear. The other ship was visible on their

left, listing hard, the water around it littered with debris and men clinging to pieces of wood.

"Will we ransack her, Captain?"

"No, Rupito, it was a navy vessel, we've already killed most of their precious cargo. Raise the

mainsail -- let's catch this wind and be gone from this place."

Fur and Fang - 34

The urge to snarl and growl was huge, the blood making him ache, making him nervous as the crew got busy raising the mainsail, and even before it was all the way up it caught the wind, pulling the ship away from the smoke and the confusion. Marco barked more orders, his rapid breathing slowly easing as they got farther away from the other ship. The scent of blood was still strong, even after the dead bodies were sent overboard, but Marco still stood, strong and proud, one hand on his head. Abrigo vibrated, unsure what to do, what he was seeing, what territory Marco defended. "Well done, men! We've rid the world of another ship full of His Majesty's best!"

A cheer went up among the crew.

"We'll sail for the islands and make repairs before searching for a ship that will yield a little

bounty."

Another cheer met this statement, Marco's words making his people happy.

"Rupito, you have the wheel. Have the men fetch me a bath."

"Aye, Captain."

Abrigo watched the men scatter, the hunt over. That's when he noticed the sun. Groaning, he

slunk back into the shadows.

"Abrigo! To me!" Marco strode to the front of the ship, standing in the prow, watching the

waves.

He growled softly, hackles raising. He didn't want to. Marco turned, frowning at him. "Abrigo.

Here. Now."

Snarling and yowling, he expressed himself, even as he stepped closer to his Alpha.

"Yes, I know. It's been a hard day and the sun is shining. I don't care. We've fought a wonderful

battle and won. I am going to stand here and savor the victory and you are going to stand with

me."

He swiped at Marco's boots, claws scoring the heavy leather.

"Abrigo!" Marco glared down at him. "Stop that. We'll be belowdecks soon enough."

"Rowl." He tossed his head, sniffing the air. Something was wrong. Something...

A man stepped forward, knife in hand ready to throw.

Fur and Fang - 35

No.

No, his Alpha.

He leapt up, tackling the man. His teeth sank into the man's throat, ripping it clean, even as the

knife sank into his skin. Noise exploded around him as blood filled his mouth.

Marco's shout rang in his ears and hands pulled him away from the bad man. "Abrigo!"

Protect the Alpha.

Protect the Pride.

His eyes rolled and he yowled in pain.

"Captain, he's killed Armando."

"No, Rupito, he's saved my life. Look -- he took a knife meant for me. Help me get him back

down to my cabin!"

Marco's hands slid over his head, petting him gently. "Stay with me, Beauty."

"Rowl." He loved. His mate. His Alpha.

He was lifted, carried, the heat of the sun disappearing.

"Should we take out the knife, Captain?"

"I need bandages, first. Hot water."

His man's fingers kept touching, stroking through his fur. He leaned, licking at the fingers. Love.

"Stay with me, Beauty." Marco bent and kissed his muzzle. "Stay with me."

"Captain, it's an animal. How can y'save 'im?" He heard the words from a distance.

"This animal saved my life. Leave the water and get out." His Alpha snarled, sending the others

away.

The light faded slightly and he panted, pain beginning to overtake him.

Marco touched the knife, making him snarl and whimper. "Shh. Shh, Abrigo. I don't know if I

should pull it or not. Would it be easier if you changed?"

He hissed softly, heartbeat slowing in his ears. His Alpha. He could... He could be a man one

Fur and Fang - 36

more time for his mate. It took all he was, but he changed, sobbing with the pain. "Marrrrrrco. For you." "Abrigo!" Marco's hands slid over his face, his mate bending to kiss him. "Shh, now. Easy. Easy. I can see where you've been hurt now. And I can take out the knife." Marco grabbed a handful of bandages and held them against the knife. "Marrrrco." Hurt. Oh. Hurt. Please. Alpha... Free hand stroking his face, Marco looked into his eyes. "This is going to hurt. And then I'll need to sew your flesh together. You have to be strong for me. Once it's done, you can shift if the cat is stronger for you to heal, but I can't sew the cat together." "For you." He gasped. "Protect my Alpha." "Yes, yes, Abrigo. You protected me. You saved my life, now I'm going to do my best to save yours." Marco's hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife, and he pulled it out. Pain washed over him and he screamed, the sound more animal than man. Pressing the cloth down hard over the wound, Marco spoke softly to him, nonsense and gibberish, but it was Marco's voice that soothed him, not the words themselves. He could taste blood in the back of his mouth, then it was washed away by the burn of rum, hot and spicy. More rum was poured down his throat and everything became hazy then, the pain seeming to fade. It came and it went, sometimes sharp and piercing, other times barely there. Marco's lips pressed against his, the kiss burning into him. "Abrigo. I've done what I can. You must do your best to heal now." "Heal." He licked Marco's hand once, eyes crossed. "Mate." The man fell away, leaving him panting, eyes rolling as he slipped into a restless sleep. *** Marco spent a lot of time pacing, growling. He was like a caged animal in his cabin. The irony was not wasted on him, with Abrigo's cage still sitting in the corner. Why had he kept it? He didn't need it. He took one of his chairs and attacked the cage, not caring if the chair was destroyed along with the cage. Davy knocked on the door, asking if everything was all right, and he snarled at the boy, sending him away. He continued beating the cage to death, the sounds of wood and rattan splitting so very satisfying.

Fur and Fang - 37

Satisfied that the cage was totally destroyed, he yanked open the door. "Davy. Clean up this

mess. Throw it all overboard."

"Yes, sir, Cap'n sir." Davy rushed to do as he'd asked. "How's the cat today, Cap'n?"

"Still alive." It was something. At the moment, it was all he had.

He paced some more once Davy finished removing the pieces of bamboo. His Beauty was hurt,

he'd had a traitor among his crew, and who knew how many others. Obviously not the whole

crew, or they would have had a mutiny.

"Don't let anyone in," he instructed Davy as he left the cabin to prowl above deck, making sure his crew knew that he wasn't going to let the attempt on his life keep him from the wheel, from being captain. No one came to speak to him -- no one dared. Even Rupito handed over the wheel without a word.

The roll of the waves and the mist off the sea soothed him somewhat, and he was bolstered as he

made his way back down to his cabin several hours later.

Davy stood at the door, guarding it. He patted the lad's shoulder. "Good lad. Go get yourself

something from the galley."

"Thanks, Cap'n!"

Davy ran off and Marco stepped into his cabin, eyes going to the bed.

Abrigo was no longer on the bed; instead, he could just see the tip of the black tail flicking from

beneath the wardrobe. Dios be thanked, that had to mean Abrigo was better if he was moving,

hiding.

Crouching, he looked beneath the wardrobe. "Come on out, Beauty, it's me."

Slitted green eyes stared at him. "Rowl."

He felt laughter building up inside him at the sound. "Listen to you."

Sitting, he patted his legs. "Come on, Beauty. Come and get some loving."

One paw slid out first, then the flat muzzle, nose twitching.

"There's my Beauty." He touched Abrigo's paw, and then the soft muzzle. "Still so soft. Your fur

was made for my fingers."

Fur and Fang - 38

He got a low, rustling purr, the cat inching out. He patted and scratched as Abrigo slowly appeared, loving on his cat. On his lover in cat form. Abrigo's muzzle settled on his thigh, the warm breath huffing out at him. He patted the black face. "There we go, Beauty. And how are you feeling -- are you healing?" There had been fever, there had been blood. Now, Abrigo's eyes seemed clearer. "I was worried that your bravery had cost you your life." He slid his hand across Abrigo's shoulders and down over the long spine. Abrigo licked his arm, eyes serious. He could almost hear the 'protect the Alpha.'

He pressed his face to Abrigo's fur, rubbing against it. "Yes. Thank you, Beauty."

Abrigo's tail thumped against him, the cat settling. As his hands stroked over Abrigo's body, he

realized he was much calmer now, his anger banked. Abrigo leaned harder, eyes closing. Maybe it was time to admit that he'd been more upset about Abrigo's possible death than having a mutinous crew. The huge cat was an infernal challenge -- a danger, a distraction. A beautiful lover. He rubbed his cheek against the amazing fur. "I'm glad you're here," he whispered. The low

vibrations tickled his face, massaged it.

"Would it hurt you to change into your man self?" he asked.

Abrigo sighed for him, the sound soft, then his cat shuddered, shimmered, disappeared. And he

was suddenly face to face with Abrigo the man. Groaning, he pressed his lips to his lover's

mouth.

Abrigo hummed, skin pale, eyes holding his. "Marrrrco."

He stroked the pale cheeks. "Are you well, Beauty?

"Hurts. But better." His hand was kissed. "You are good?"

"I'm alive -- thanks to you. I'm not very happy with my crew right now, though they all swear

that Armando acted alone. I am inclined to believe them -- a mutiny would have been better

organized."

"Smelled him. Smelled wrong."

"Really? You could tell just by the smell?" Amazing.

"Bad smells." Abrigo's fingers brushed the stitched-up scar, the skin red and hot.

Fur and Fang - 39

"I would have thought we all smell rather badly. We are brigands, after all." Marco's fingers followed Abrigo's. "Does it hurt?" "Not as bad. Itches. Want to bite it."

"No, you'd tear the stitches open if you did that. And I had a hard enough time putting them in

the first time." It was something he most definitely did not want to repeat.

"Will they come out?"

He nodded. "Hopefully soon. It'll leave a beauty of a scar."

"Beauty?" He was the beauty. Marco said.

"Yeah. An impressive scar, you know? Big."

Abrigo frowned, working through that, then one hand stroked an old scar on Marco's cheek.

"Yours."

Marco nodded, fingers following Abrigo's. "This scar was given to me on my first sea voyage.

It's a reminder that I have to look out for myself because no one will do it for me." His fingers

ghosted over Abrigo's scar. "At least not until you came along."

Abrigo purred for him, nodding. "Protect the Pride."

"And we're part of the same Pride, are we, Abrigo?" It was supposed to work much the same

aboard a ship, but there were always too many men wanting to be top dog.

The look he received was pure exasperation. "Mates."

"Mates. Hmm..." He thought about it for a moment. The word felt heavy, imbued with meaning.

But he and Abrigo had made love, Abrigo had saved him, and he would do the same for Abrigo

should the opportunity come up.

The word was a good one and he nodded slowly. "Yes, Beauty. Mates."

Abrigo nodded back, smiled at him, eyes closing as those fingers stroked his thigh. "Mates."

"Do cats mate for life, Abrigo?"

"My kind do." Abrigo stretched, fingers on the wound.

Marco took Abrigo's fingers and twined them with his own. "Then you'd better not scratch and

tear out the stitches, because I expect you and I to live a long life."

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"Long. I like long." Abrigo held onto him, held tight. "Yes, Beauty, I like the sound of that, too." He pressed his lips against Abrigo's. Now, if he could only assure himself that the crew wouldn't discover his lover's secret. *** The boat rocked, the waves crashing around and making him shudder from his spot beneath the

wardrobe.

Out. He needed out. Off the boat. In the jungle. Out.

Abrigo yowled softly, his body rolling on the floor and thumping against a banded chest.

Marco looked up from where he sat, doing something in a book with a big feather that was all

black on one end. "Abrigo? What are you doing?"

Oh. Feather. He focused on that, tail twitching.

"Abrigo!"

He chuffed softly, sliding across the floor again.

Marco laughed suddenly. "You're playing! You big silly beast."

Rolling onto his back, he batted the air idly, wishing he could run, eat grass. Marco pounced on

him suddenly, landing half on the floor, half on him.

"Rowl!" He scrambled, careful not to hurt, to scratch.

Marco rolled with him, hands sliding along his sides, his belly, fingers digging in and giving him

good scratches. He called out for Marco, ecstatic, excited. So pleased. His mate laughed and

played with him, rolling and scratching. Playing!

He nipped Marco's shoulder carefully, then pounced away, tail lashing. Marco gave chase, the

two of them bumping into furniture, knocking the chairs over as they raced through the small

cabin. He leapt up on the wardrobe, panting and growling happily.

"Oh, you cheat!" Marco laughed. "I can't catch you up there!"

He chuffed and nodded, one paw dangling.

Fur and Fang - 41

Shaking his head, Marco turned away and sighed. Suddenly, his man turned, jumping up to

swipe at his paw. "Ha! Got you!"

Abrigo yowled happily, pouncing down on the bed to spin, leap toward his Marco. They

thumped hard against the wall as Marco fell back under his onslaught.

"Cap'n? Is everything all right?" Davy called from behind the closed door.

He answered with a happy snarl, head-butting his mate.

Marco "oofed" and gasped. "Yes, Davy. Abrigo is just... exercising."

He landed on Marco and started grooming the man. Marco sputtered, laughed, pushing him away

from his mate's face. No, no. Grooming was good. He licked again, tongue

draaaaaaaaaaaaaaagging.

"Ow! Not the face, Beauty!"

Marco pulled open his blouse. "Here."

Mmm. That smelled good. He lapped at the soft skin, the dark nipples, the flat belly.

"Abrigo. Beauty. Your man self. Please." The laughter was gone, Marco breathless.

He growled, nibbling a little before closing his eyes, focusing on long legs, smooth skin. Marco

pushed up against him as he changed, his mate's hands sliding into his hair and holding his

mouth against the warm skin.

"Marrrrrrrrrrrrco." He was much less fun as a man.

"Yes, Beauty." Marco's hips bucked, the breeches covering Marco's heat, dulling the man's

smell.

He nuzzled and nibbled, pushing at the breeches. "More."

Gasping, Marco tugged the breeches down past his hips, hard prick leaping up to slap against his

belly.

"Mmm." He lapped at the tip of Marco's cock, moaning at the salt, the heat.

Marco whimpered, hips jerking, pushing that hardness against his face. Yes. Yes, Mate. Good.

He licked and sucked, cleaning each drop of liquid away. Moaning and shifting, Marco

shuddered beneath his touches, his licks.

"Please, Abrigo."

Fur and Fang - 42

He tilted his head, confused. "Please?"

"Suck me, Beauty. Take me in your mouth."

"Oh!" He could do that. He liked that. Abrigo nodded and wrapped his lips around the hard flesh,

sucking happily.

"Yes! Abrigo!" Marco's hands tightened in his hair, encouraging him to bob his head up and

down on the hardness in his mouth.

Abrigo closed his eyes, sucking and pulling, swallowing around the prick in his mouth. Marco's

sounds filled the room: moans and groans, and more sweet pleas. He just gave more, took more,

loved his mate with all he was.

Marco tugged at his hair. "Abrigo! Soon!"

Swallowing hard, he nodded, demanding. Soon. He would taste.

"Yes!" It was a scream, very loud, and Marco's prick jerked in his mouth, seed spraying.

He swallowed what he could, then leaned, landing on Marco's belly.

Marco's hands slid through his hair in long sweeps, petting him. "You make me feel so good."

Abrigo nodded and hummed, purring happily. Good. Of course he did.

"We must have knocked over a bottle, Beauty. I believe I am lying in a pool of rum."

He sniffed, chuffing softly. "We need more room."

Room to run.

To play.

Marco sighed. "We do, Abrigo. And I already have the largest cabin. There is nowhere else on

the ship..."

Breath huffing from him, he rolled his shoulders. "Sorry, mate."

Marco shook his head. "It isn't your fault. The ship is my home -- you were stolen from yours.

Which is more dangerous, I wonder?"

"Dangerous?" He didn't understand. The ship wasn't dangerous.

"Yes, which has more dangers, Abrigo? Your jungle, or my ship? I don't mind the battles with

Fur and Fang - 43

other ships -- that is why I became a pirate. To be my own man, and get back at the English dogs who think they own the seas and everyone they find beyond them. But when one of my own people tries to kill me..." Marco shook his head. "How do I defend against such treachery?" "I defend. I protect the Alpha." He knew this answer. "You do. And I worry I'll lose you to that." Marco stroked his cheek. If he did, he did. A strong knock shook the cabin, the door swinging open as the latch gave way, the huge bo'sun

standing there. "Cap'n! There's a shi..."

Abrigo blinked and shifted, startled and surprised.

Marco scrambled to his feet, doing up his breeches. "A ship? Those English dogs?

The bo'sun stared. "Cap'n. Your beast. He was... I saw..."

"What? You saw what?" Marco stared at the man.

"A man. He was a man."

Marco snorted. "You've been drinking, Bo'sun."

"No. No, I swear it. I must have..."

Abrigo stared at the big man, rumbling.

"No. You did not." Marco spoke firmly.

"No. No, of course. Captain, a ship is sailing to the west."

"Abrigo, to me." Marco's hand slapped his thigh. "Navy or merchant, Bo'sun?" Marco asked,

striding from the room.

He watched for a few steps, then followed, keeping to the shadows, avoiding the sun. *** Marco had never thought the day would come that would find him leaving his ship in favor of solid land. He never would have believed he'd want something other than the deck rolling beneath his feet. But it wasn't safe anymore. Not for him, not for Abrigo.

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The bo'sun catching Abrigo in his man form had been the last straw. The rumors had already started among the crew, and it wouldn't be long before someone else caught Abrigo without his fur. And there had been another attempt on his life, his food poisoned. Only Abrigo's knocking the bowl from his fingers had saved him. That made one dead assassin and one still alive. That he knew about. They were passing by Ivory Coast and as soon as they spied land, he and Abrigo were leaving the ship. He hadn't told anyone, but he expected that his first mate Rupito would have no problem taking over as captain. "Cap'n! Land!" He looked up to Davy in the crow's nest and turned the wheel so they were heading in the direction the lad pointed. Excellent. He was ready. He imagined Abrigo was as well. "Rupito, take the wheel and keep us on a course to the shore. I've a mind to feel the earth beneath my feet." He headed down to his cabin, eager to share the news with Abrigo. Abrigo was sleeping, paws over his nose, tail swaying lazily with the movement of the ship. There was a small boat awaiting them, provisioned with enough to keep them in rum and fish and shelter that awaited them. The only thing he still needed to take was his chest of jewels and furs and books. He crouched next to his Beauty, burying his fingers in the soft fur. "Rowl." Abrigo stretched and purred, emerald eyes staring into him. "Hola, Beauty. I have news." The big, flat head tilted, Abrigo watching him curiously. "We're coming up on land. A place like where you're from, with jungles." He drew it out, anticipating Abrigo's reaction to the news. Abrigo's eyes went wide, that nose twitching, tail lashing. He could almost hear the questions. "We're heading right for it. I'll be dropping a small boat and rowing ashore with you." Abrigo's motions stopped, ears going flat, body melting on the bed. "That's a good reaction I hope, Beauty." He rubbed his cheek against Abrigo's. "We're staying, you and I, when the ship leaves."

Fur and Fang - 45

Abrigo jerked, blinked, then pounced on him, yowling happily. Oh. Oh, yes. He laughed, arms wrapping around the beast, any doubts he might have had fading away. His face was licked, throat nuzzled, those happy sounds filling the air. This was going to be his life now, Abrigo happy and his. It seemed like a fair trade off. He could smell the earth upon the air now, mingled with the smells of green things and salt.

"Come, Beauty. It's time to go."

Abrigo tugged the heavy blanket from the bed, carrying it to the door.

"Still protecting me, Abrigo?" He took the blanket and folded it, placing it in his chest. And then

they headed for the deck.

Abrigo's tail brushed his thighs as they stepped into the sunlight.

Fur and Fang - 46

Snake Oil by BA Tortuga They jingled as they headed into town, four wagons with copper bells on the corners jangling like a tinker's cart. Dark shapes huddled inside the barred carts, hiding away from the sun, from the biting flies that swarmed around, from the constantly moving whip that lashed the cages, the mules, the single, bony horse. The solid wagon had a trio of ravens caged on the front, the huge black birds quiet and still as they swayed. The wind caught the edge of the carpet rolled and tied to the top of one of the cages, the fringes fluttering wildly before the whole thing unfurled, slapping against the side of the cage, the bear inside not even lifting his huge head. "Doctor Diavolo's Circus of Madness," it read. "Wondrous Monsters from the Wilds to Astound." Screaming faces and clawed hands shone out into the noonday heat, the canvas beginning to fade, to fray. It sure didn't look like much to Haskell. Nothing scary, at any rate. Bears and birds. In fact, he felt damned sorry for the poor creatures, his heart pounding with growing rage. Nothing wild should be caged that way, whether by choice or by chance. He knew all about cages of choice, but this... This was so much worse. Stepping down off the boardwalk that ran along the storefronts of the tiny main street of Cinch, Colorado, Haskell made his way past the wagon train, staring in at the animals, checking on the security of the cages. Bears, birds, wolves, and... He tilted his head, nostrils flaring under the shadow of his hat. He knew that scent. Staring hard into the dark recesses of the last cage, Haskell moved closer, his pretense of a casual walk across the street gone. There was a cat there, a big cat, just the black tip of tail showing, but that tail had a white spot. A scar. A scar shaped like the moon, carved in by the very tip of Granny's knife.

Fur and Fang - 47

Truett.

No. No, there was no way.

His hand hit the first bar of the cage, fingers wrapping around it, a low growl coming from deep

in his chest.

One bright yellow eye popped open, rolling, staring at him a moment before closing.

They'd been running in the snow, he remembered that. Running and chasing a white hare, the

promise of blood and food right there when the shot rang out, Truett's body flipped in the air

from the force of it.

He'd thought Truett was dead. A trophy on some hunting lodge wall, or a skin for a rich man's

coat. To see him now...

"Truett."

Nothing.

Not a twitch.

Not a growl.

"You want to see the show, Mister? I'm setting up right outside of town. I'll take 'em out, let you

give 'em a close look for a nickel." Oily. Whoever this was that had his Truett in a cage smelled

oily.

His teeth tried to bare, but Haskell kept it in, knowing he'd need access. "Yeah. Yeah, I'd like to

see the show. They do anything... special?"

"Ah. You've heard of my show..." The greasy man leaned closer, one gold tooth glinting in the

sunlight. "For a dime, you'll see."

"I've got me a dime. Tell me when to be there." He'd kill the slimy bastard and take his Truett

back. See if he didn't.

"I'll send the women and children away at dusk. You be there then with your money; you'll see magic." One of the birds cawed and the whip flashed out, jarring the cage.

Haskell's hands clenched, his own claws trying to come out. "I'll see you after sundown, then, sir.

Good day."

Fur and Fang - 48

He had to walk away. For now. He would come back for Truett, though. There was no other option. *** Hot. Something on the air tickled his nose, woke him from a good dream. Running. Running in the clouds, the moon on his skin. Running in the clouds, the moon on his skin. Water pouring. Water. He opened one eye, a man standing there, staring. Oh. Oh, nothing real. Just a man. He sighed, put a paw over his nose. Someone waiting for him. Someone fine and furred with eyes like the moon. Someone real to run with him. His eye closed, the sound of the whip on the bars making his skin shiver. *** Haskell went to the little circle of wagons after sundown, his dime burning a hole in his pocket. Truett. His Truett. He still couldn't fathom it, thought just maybe he'd imagined it. Maybe it was

just wishful thinking, because he sure as hell had seen Truett dying in the snow.

His whole body itched, wanting to change, wanting to hunt, even if it wasn't time. He'd do more

good to Truett as a man, at any rate, and he smoothed his face into something calm and watchful

as he made his way to the circle of light thrown by the lead wagon.

About ten men stood around, the gold-toothed Dr. Diavolo holding one of the ravens up by the

wing. "I keep the big ones asleep, but this beauty, she stays awake."

Fur and Fang - 49

As the moonlight hit the dark feathers, the bird shimmered, faded, leaving a weeping, thin Indian gal dangling naked from one hand. The crowd gasped as she twisted, trying to hide herself. Stifling his cry, Haskell stepped back, looking away. Oh. Oh, that poor... Truett. Bile rose in his throat. This was what the man was going to do with Truett. "Put your money in the box, dear sir. Don't worry, the animals are all sleeping well." There was a wolf, Truett -- all laid out under cover. The bear was still caged, head tossing with the moon, growling. Haskell could feel the urge to shift on him; in a few days he wouldn't be able to resist it even a bit. Dropping his dime in the box with numb fingers, Haskell stared at Truett, willing his love to see him, to know him, but those yellow eyes stayed closed. "They're sleeping. They can't wake. Don't be scairt, son." Diavolo staked the gal to the ground and strode over, reaching down to grab Truett's tail, lift his hind end up and let him slam to the ground. "See?" The only thing that kept him from leaping and tearing the man's throat out was the two big men who stepped forward, frowning at Truett like they needed to make sure he was really out. "He's a fine specimen," Haskell said, his voice torn and rough. "He is. Takes some work, that one. I trapped his ass two-three winters ago." "How do you keep them docile?" One of the men nudged Truett with his toe. "Keep 'em lean. Keep 'em hungry. Keep 'em on some brew that I make to keep them quiet." Truett's tail was grabbed again, his mate dragged out into the faint moonlight. In a moment, he saw what he'd never thought to see again -- lean and scarred, bruised and still, but it was his Truett. A low sound escaped him, the wail trying to get out. Oh, True. Look at him. Alive. He was the most beautiful thing Haskell had ever seen. "It's quite stunning, is it not? My own personal magic." "Magic... Seems like they're the magical ones," he snapped. "You're just the snake oil salesman." "Without me, they're only animals." The wolf was dragged out next, an ancient man limp and quiet beside Truett. Haskell would have to kill the poor beast. There was no way the wolf could run with them. They needed to move fast, though none of the animals were in any shape to go far all at one time.

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"What about the bear?" One of the men headed over, kicking up dust. "And the other birds?" "She can't change. She's got a cub in her belly." Oh, sweet Jesus. "The crows, though, they sleep hard." The ravens were fished out and thrown over near the gal, a desperate wail pouring from her as she struggled to reach them -- one young as her and one older, stronger, face pointed and proud. That one had the desire and the will to get free. Haskell knew it, and only had it emphasized when one clear, amber-colored eye opened and met his. Yes, this one would help him. "What sort of trick is this, now? You have mirrors or something?" An old farmer spit on the ground, gnarly hands reaching down, lifting the girl's face. The girl shrank back, a low chittering noise coming from her, and Haskell felt his own body shimmer, trying to change. Damn it, he would end up in a cage with Truett if he wasn't careful. The male raven looked at him again, shaking as the changeling fought not to move, to pounce. Damn it all, Haskell wanted to rip the ’magician’ apart, but he had to wait, had to find the right time. He had to have patience. "No mirrors, all magic. I tell you, I got a way with these beasts." "Uh-huh. Well, it's something, that's for sure," a little man in a boiled wool coat and bowler hat said. "I've seen enough. Good night to you." "Same here. This ain't holy, mister. You stay away from my stables, won't you?" A tall, lanky cowboy shook his head, turned on his heel. There were some who stayed, fascinated in the way that men are when they see something they can't explain, horrified and curious. Haskell just felt sick. The oily little Diavolo man let people look their fill, then started trying to auction the little gal off for a few minutes behind the carts. It suited Haskell to the bone that none of the men he called neighbors would do it. It meant he had fewer people to kill. Watching carefully, Haskell memorized how the snake oil feller locked the cages, how he handled each of the animal men, what each of them looked like. The bigger raven stared at him, a pure desperation in the lean face, the man near begging for help. Licking his lips, Haskell nodded, just slightly, trying to let the poor caged creature know that he would be back, that he wouldn't let any of them rot behind those bars. The little gal was last, shoved into the shadow, poor wings wrapped.

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"Guess the show's over, huh?" Shoving his hands in his pockets, Haskell gave Truett one last look, longing for some sort of twitch. Something. "That's it. When the cub's born, we'll have a hunt, but not until then, and I'll have moved on." A hunt. That was too much to take. Haskell snapped, leaping at the little devil man, his hands curled into claws, a low roar escaping him. The little man stepped back, hand scrabbling for the six-shooter at his waist. He'd've gotten to it, too, if it weren't for that little gal, sharp beak flashing as she threw herself over. She caught Diavolo's collar from behind, the man forgetting himself and falling back against the cage. That little gal screeched and held on, and Haskell slapped the gun out of the man's hand, his own fingers closing around that oily neck. Blows landed on him, dull and thudding, doing nothing but making him more furious. "What do you want, you bastard!" "I want you to die." The words came out more like growls, barely human now, the moon whispering at him to hold on, to stay human. "You took my mate!" "I ain't got no gals but the bear and the bird!" Staring right into those dark eyes as they started to glaze over, Haskell nodded, leaning harder against the man's windpipe. "Who said my mate was a woman?" The blows against him got weaker and weaker, the acrid scent of death and fear sharp and satisfying. He waited until the light died completely in those eyes, until the man sagged and went gray and yellow, his life draining out in a terrible rush. Haskell had killed many times during the hunt, but he had never killed a man. Bright eyes stared at him, the lean girl shaking, standing there on unsteady feet. The big raven, already caged, was cawing furiously, wings bashing at the cage. "Hush. Hush now," Haskell whispered. "You've got to hush up so we can leave this place." How was he going to get a pregnant bear and all the rest out of... They'd have to hook up the wagons. The girl went over, fighting her change like anything as she got the birdcage open. The huge raven flopped down, strutting over into the moonlight, and morphed into the Indian, the black eyes glittering at him. "Go." Yeah. Yeah, that was the plan. He didn't have his saddlebags, his spurs. They were in the room at Miss Lacey's. "We'll go. We have to take the wagons, make them people think he's moved on. I... I need my

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things." He needed Truett, but he knew right now that True was safe enough, could wait just a bit. Didn't make it any easier. The man nodded, pointed to the covered wagon. "There are clothes in there. He gives us bad medicine." "I'll help you. I will." He went to the wagon and pulled the flaps aside, the stench making his eyes water. Living among men sometimes did that, made him wonder how they could foul things and stay among them. "Here. Find what you need. I'll come back before the moon moves. Stay and help me move the others?" "I will. We will stay until the medicine is gone from my wife's brother." The other raven never moved, never twitched. He reached out, his hand falling on the raven-man's shoulder. "We'll go where it's still wild. You'll fly again." Then, before the urge to go and try to wake Truett got too strong, Haskell turned to make his way back to town, to gather his things and leave like a thief in the night. Or like a killer. If it brought Truett back to him, though, it was worth any price he might pay. *** The wagons had been mostly hooked up when Haskell got back, and now they were on their way, the big Indian sitting on the seat of the second wagon, Haskell on the lead. They stole away before the sun came up, the bells from the wagons left in the sand. Truett hadn't even stirred. What if he was permanently damaged? What if Haskell couldn't get him back? The gal was moving from one cage to another, chittering and hanging on the side. She was wearing buckskins and kept pushing up into the big man's arms, holding tight. He understood that. He surely did. How long had it been since they'd been able to do that, just hold on to each other? Checking the sky, Haskell sighed. They just weren't making enough time. They'd taken Diavolo with them, but they'd have to find a place to bury the feller before he started to stink much worse. The gal came running up beside him, leapt up and stared at him. "Taima say to stop now. Taima say the others will hurt for the fire-bad medicine."

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"Where are we gonna stop? We need water and someplace to cover up..." It was too damned exposed. They needed a den. "I look. I find." He got a smile, and then the doeskin slipped to the floorboards of the cart. She fluttered, preened a bit, smoothing out her flight feathers before she cried out, flying free. Oh. Oh, look at her go. Haskell actually smiled for the first time in the whole night. That was... Well, that was worth it, wasn't it? Taima stood in the cart, calling to her, crying out happily. Bless her. Haskell cheered a little, too, but he couldn't help looking back at the last wagon where Truett slept like he really was dead. Taima looked at him, nodded once, so serious. All he could do was keep heading for the horizon, slapping the reins against the big mules' backs. They were solid, steady animals, built to be calm and plodding, but not making great speed. He heard the cawing coming from the west, the dark body circling over and over. The big man grunted, pointed, and gave him a nod. They turned, the wagons sluggish and maddening, and Haskell wanted to scream. Wouldn't do any good. They'd just have to make good with what they had. There was an overhang, a wide-mouthed cave hidden by the scrub brush. Safe from passers-by, protected from the weather -- it would work. They'd have to figure what to do with the wagons, but they had time for that if they stopped now. Nodding, Haskell pulled up, stopping their little train. Taima climbed down, peering in at the others, working each cage open. They'd have to drag the bear in together, and Haskell hoped to hell when she woke up that she didn't go crazy. They weren't going to have room in there. The gal came up, wrapped in her clothes. "Nita. She sleeps light. Is good. No..." She waved her hands, looking for a word. "No... man now. No. Mamma." "Well, as long as she ain't gonna eat me." He smiled at the little thing, finding her chittering and flitting charming, especially after seeing her so damned pitiful before. Taima spoke to her, low and guttural, waving those hands and going to town. He waited, then she turned to him. "He say it hurts. To wake from the bad medicine. He say it bad." His respect for the big raven grew in leaps and bounds. The man had to've gone through horrors while waking up from the medicine, whatever it was, but he'd bet Diavolo had never even known. "Tell him he is the strongest man I've ever known."

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"He has great medicine, my husband. Great medicine." One hand landed on her shoulder and she leaned back into the lee of the big man's body. Haskell glanced away, feeling like an intruder. Then he sighed, his head snapping back up so he could nod. "Let's get to work." The man nodded and the three of them set to work. The little gal started setting up camp, while the big raven grabbed Diavolo, an evil smile on the lean face. Haskell started cleaning out whatever they could use, letting Taima do what he would. That was the way of natural law. He circled the wagons, digging around for whatever food he could find. Oats, berries, a scattering of dried meat, and jars and jars of a foul-smelling green liquid. The very scent of it made his stomach roll. Waving at the little girl, he motioned to the jars. "Will we need this to help bring the others up slow?" She looked at it with wide eyes. "Bad medicine. Nita, Tala -- they have one bowl." She motioned to the bear, the wolf. "Tocho, he have three." Swallowing hard, he asked, "Truett?" "Tru...?" She chirped, tilted her head. "Tocho." "Three. Oh, Lord." His True. What if... Shaking his head, he stopped that thought from coming on back. He had work to do, and if Truett was well out, he'd have more time to do it before he had to help through the shakes and sickness. "Tocho, he... he fight. Taima say he a warrior." "Yes. Yes, he is." Truett had been the best hunter Haskell had ever seen, not near as human as Haskell was, not near as lazy. "I ask Taima. I ask how much to wake him from the dreams." "Thank you." That would help. If he knew. Wiping sweat from his brow, Haskell checked the light, the urgency on him to get this done. She nodded, started building a fire, the random whistles starting up. Soon a huge raven flew in, flapping his wings and calling out in a fierce, wild triumph. How could he blame the man? Haskell turned away, giving the ravens time to groom and preen a little, knowing they needed it. Finally, the work was mostly done and it was time to move the others. The other raven was beginning to twitch and shift, as was the mamma bear. The wolf-man, though, he wasn't moving a bit, and True? Well, that bastard just snored away.

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Ass. Stubborn, beautiful ass. "We need to get the rest into the cave," he finally said, turning to meet the big raven-man's eyes. Taima grunted, muttered and jabbered at the gal, who turned to look at him. "The Tala, he will not wake. He is old. Taima say to let him go." "We can't just let him rot. I'll care for him until the end." Damn it, he didn't free them all for nothing. They'd start with the bear, though. The bear growled as the cage was opened, blinking at him dazedly, huge teeth bared. "Shhh. Hush now, lady bear. Not gonna hurt you. We've got you a den..." Slowly, carefully, he pulled the door wide. Those huge pretty eyes caught him and Haskell could swear he saw tears, there. Jesus forgive him, how could someone do this? "Come on, honey. Can you understand me? Taima and I can help you. No more green juice..." He moved up close, feeling small next to her, feeling a little tingly-worried. She growled softly, rolling up to her feet. Good lord, look at that belly. She swayed, but she walked, bouncing between him and Taima, heavy fur hot against them. She smelled like bear, only not. She didn't have the deep, earthy scent of the den; more of a sour, captive smell. They'd fix that. "Aponi." The big man called and the raven-gal answered, arms filled with grasses. Oh, smart. They got the big girl settled, got her in the cave and resting, and one huge paw touched his leg for a moment, the contact gentle as could be. Yeah, mamma. Yeah, it was gonna be just fi... The other raven-man started groaning, flailing a bit, flopping around on the ground. The others went to help him, so Haskell moved to the wolf, the thin, frail body all but making him cry. Damn it all to hell. He wouldn't leave the poor feller behind. He could count each rib, each bone, and the dear thing never shifted, never woke a bit. Setting the wolf on the opposite side from the lady bear, Haskell finally allowed himself to go to Truett. Finally. His mate was there, curled up, paws over his nose, looking like Haskell remembered. Stopping, he just stared. His heart pounded in his chest, but Haskell opened the cage after a bit, stepping right to Truett's side, his hand brushing the rough fur. Skinny. Quiet. Still.

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But it was his Truett, nose to tail. So fine. He'd thought he'd lost this one forever, and to see Truett alive... Lord. He tested the weight, trying to see if he could lift True himself. One eye popped open, a low warning growl vibrating against his hands. Haskell chuffed a little, making the low, soothing noises that they all knew from the time they were born. There was no hope that True would know him yet, not if he was drugged to the gills, but he ought to know another of his kind. The growl faded into a purr immediately, Truett going boneless. "That's it, lover. Just like that." Haskell repositioned those big paws, watching claws slide in and out when he touched the pads. That purr got louder, and louder still, True damn near singing to him. Someone still loved that, still pushed against his touch like a kitten. That reassured him as nothing else had, and he pulled those big paws up on his shoulders, lifting True right up off the ground. Those heavy paws wrapped around his shoulders and held on, Truett panting against his throat. "I've got you, True. Taking you to the cave where you can sleep and get well and all..." It wasn't no trouble to carry Truett at all. Oh. Oh, was that a lick? That quick, hot, rough little sensation? Shivering, smiling, he pulled True inside the cave, getting them in the shade, in the dark quiet that smelled like bear and wolf, instead of caged despair. The night was falling, the mamma bear groaning softly, the raven tossing and fluttering, flopping about. He couldn't believe so much time had passed. His belly rumbled, telling him he'd eaten nothing all day. There was some hardtack biscuit, some dried meat, some old, wormy apples. Nothing fancy, nothing fresh, but it was food. He laid True down nice and easy, then went to get the food, intent on sharing it with his motley band of misfits until they could hunt fresh. Apona was a busy little thing -- eager to help and chatty, so happy to be free that it was damn near painful. He found himself smiling at her antics, jumping around and squawking like the little bird she was. Lord, Taima must have the patience of a saint. "You want some biscuit, honey?" She nodded quickly and stole it from his hand, nearly flying back into Taima's arms.

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He smiled again, suddenly so tired that he drooped, his shoulders slumping. All he wanted to do was to curl up with True, nose to tail, and sleep. True was right there, snoring, waiting on him. Oh, sweet God. He could nap with True. "I need..." He waved a hand. "I'm sorry. I have to rest."

Neither bird made note of him, really, all caught up in each other.

They would wake him if they needed him, he was sure. Hell, he'd bet they'd slept so long with

the medicine that they were afraid to close their eyes. Dropping to his knees, Haskell crawled to

Truett's side, chuffing so he didn't alarm his mate a bit.

Truett stre-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-etched out, claws exposed and rolling dough. Smiling, Haskell dug his

hand into the heavy fur at True's neck, feeling at home for the first time in a long while. Feeling

like he could sleep.

He could feel that strong, steady heartbeat, drawing him into dreams, drawing him down into soft

fur, a cold, wet nose.

Closing his eyes, he let himself drift away, let himself drown in the scent and feel of someone he

thought he'd lost forever.

*** Running. He was running. The cloud had fallen to the ground, hiding the ground, the trees, but True knew they were there. Hiding him. Protecting him. True ducked his head, kept running, kept chirping and yelping, calling for... He stumbled, calling out, suddenly scared by the clouds all around him. A low, soft growl called back to him, the voice of it surrounding him, loving him. Calming him. Oh. Oh, he knew... Somehow. Somehow he knew. He growled back, nostrils sniffing so hard they ached. The scent was so familiar, so much better than the trees and the dirt that he didn't know. True tried to see, tried so hard to look through the clouds, begging the owner of that purr, that

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scent, to come to him. He would swear that someone rubbed against his cheek, scenting him, giving him what he needed, but his eyes couldn't see. True whimpered, pulling away, unsure whether this was danger, was bad.

"Shhhh..." The strange hiss became a low rumble again, a small chuff sounding like safe and

home.

He called, doing his best to make sure the Other heard him, stayed. He was so tired.

So alone.

"Love. Truett. Sleep now. Heal." Yes, heal. Not sleep the dead sleep of the sick. He needed to

heal.

He blinked, panting. Just a touch scared.

The growl took him by surprise, the strength of it telling him this one was strong, that this one

could take care of him. He let the sound soothe him, let it ease him down into the softness of the clouds. He rested, telling his story with growls and chirps -- telling of the fear, the pain, the sour taste of the air, and how something inside him was missing. The sounds came back to him like they came on the wind, telling him that this one knew what

was missing, that he could find it again.

Truett hoped the Other was right.

*** When Haskell woke up, the barest traces of dawn were streaking the sky outside their little cave, and he was the only one stirring. He knew the ravens had kept watch most of the night, had heard them in and out of his dreams. His dreams had also shown him his lover, Truett, running through a dark tunnel of clouds, trees and rocks closing in. He'd tried to tell True he was there, that all would be well. He only hoped it was the truth.

Stepping away from the cave, Haskell stretched, his hands pushing the air. Then he went to

check the wagons, just to be sure no one had found them.

Quiet and still, the promise of fall on the air, it felt good to walk in the sun, wander. The old wolf watched him, unmoving, barely breathing. Poor old man. Those eyes were watery and dull, but still open, still aware. Haskell went to see if he could coax the old wolf into drinking some water.

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He held the heavy head up and the wolf lapped a few times before sighing, sliding back down into unconsciousness. "Taima says our brother is lost." Aponi carried a still, black form, tears on her cheeks. "He says Tala will follow." Bile rose in his throat, but it was the way of things. The weak died. At least they had died out from under the control of that man, Diavolo. "I am sorry for Taima and his brother and for you. What can I do to help?" "You help. You... To die free is more than to live in cage. Your Tocho? He live?" "Yes." True's heart was strong. He could only hope the mind would be, too, once the terrible drug wore off. "Your Taima is a strong one." She nodded, fingers stroking black feathers. "He has strong medicine." "He does. Is there... Is there something you need to…" Haskell trailed off, trying to find the words to ask if the ravens needed help burying Taima's brother. "We will go. You will stay with the others?" Yeah. Yeah, he could. Mamma bear was up and moving better, her big old head swaying back and forth. "I will. You have my word." Like he would leave True. The old wolf would need someone to hold vigil, too. It was his due, not to die without a pack. She nodded, kissed his cheek. "It hurts, to be so lost. I... Taima will help." "Thank you." Stretching his sore back a bit more, Haskell patted her shoulder before going back to check on True, unable to stay away. True was dreaming away, running and whining, too-thin muscles working. Sweet love. Haskell dropped to his knees, his hands rubbing down Truett's back, trying to ease the bad dreams. True stopped, head tilted, a lost growl splitting the air. It was all need and loss, a call for him. Trilling right back, Haskell pushed against that sweet body he'd missed so much. He rubbed them together, just scenting, nothing more, wishing he could change now. True's paws wrapped around him, dragging him close, cheeks sliding on his, the scent of his mate sudden and strong. Oh. Oh, he could have cried. Haskell moaned and growled instead. They rolled, Truett all but covering him, hiding his frail human form. It made Haskell smile instead of tear up. True growled and started grooming him, the motions instinctive, immediate, his lover's need to comfort innate. Laughing when Truett hit a ticklish spot, Haskell rubbed his hands up and down that lean back, feeling the pull and play of True's muscles.

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There were scars and places on True's ribs that had been broken, been healed. On the soft, fuzzy belly, he could feel the round scar from the bullet, the skin puckered and hard. The only thing that stopped his cry of rage was the fact that True sounded happy, his purrs loud and strong. Those claws just barely threatened when he thought about moving, the 'no' clear as glass. Wrapping his arms and legs around Truett's body, Haskell stayed right where he was, his smile

impossible to lose now. How he'd missed their long sleeps in their den, their long cuddles.

Truett's tongue slid along his throat, down into his shirt, cleaning his skin, the big body vibrating

with the purrs. His own chest began to rumble, his purrs pouring out, singing their song of

hunting and loving and sleeping.

He could feel it -- how that relaxed True, eased things. Now if he could just sing the song of

them as men... It might be too early for that, though. He ought to be glad to have what he did.

Truett's ear was pressed to his chest, the soft-soft fur there warm as True listened to him. He stroked the back of True's head, rumbling and humming, his human voice not quite as deep as his cat, but close. It worked, and it told him, somewhere, True knew him. True's tail curled around his leg, the dark tip tapping him, the rhythm familiar as breathing. Smiling, Haskell let himself sink into sleep again, listening to Truett snore, listening to the tiny

sounds of the wolf and the huge exhalations of the bear.

It wasn't home, but it was closer than he'd been in too damn long.

*** Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. He yowled as his muscles seized, tearing at whatever he could reach, body shaking as he slammed into the dirt, first one side, then the other.

There were no more dreams.

No more clouds.

Only darkness.

Railing against it, he fought, snapping and snarling, dust on his tongue. Cool water flowed into

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his mouth, all but choking him as he lapped at it, trying to get some relief. He growled and

sputtered, desperate for more even as his belly clenched tight.

A low purr broke through the pain, touching something deep inside him, easing a need that

squeezed him like a fist.

Help me! He knew that sound -- knew it meant home and care and hope and light and he

screamed so that it wouldn't miss him, wouldn't leave him behind.

"Hush, love. Hush. You'll be better soon." He knew those sounds, too, though they were harder

to understand.

He stilled, panting, chirping as he struggled to make himself know. Right here. He was right

here. Don't leave.

"I'm not gonna go anywhere." Slowly, he became aware of someone touching him, cutting

through the pain, through the haze, even if for a moment.

He opened his eyes, blinking slow, a shape forming for him. Pale, almost like a heat shimmer,

the man looked almost not like a man. Men were bad, but this one held him like a lover.

He growled, sniffed hard. Good. This was good.

A low rumble was his answer, the hands holding him loosening enough to stroke his ears, down

his back. The touch eased him, his muscles unlocking for a moment, eyes crossing with the

pleasure of it. Here. He was here.

"Yes. Here." A soft cheek rubbed his, and the scent made him growl with joy, settling more

pieces of him into place.

Here. He fought the urge to close his eyes, tongue slipping and sliding over that skin, the flavor

familiar.

Right.

The sound that came to him next was wild as the mountain wind, happy and free. His sound. He

knew it. Deep down.

Yes. He answered, agreeing with all he was. He was lost, but that sound? That was home.

His body still ached, the grinding pain trying to tear him apart, but with that body and that voice

to focus on, he might win against it.

Maybe.

If he didn't, he was safe. That voice, that voice would care for him.

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***

They fought all night and half the day. Poor Truett was so sick that Haskell thought he might die, screaming with the pain. It made Haskell hurt, too. When Truett finally calmed, finally slipped into an exhausted sleep, Haskell sat with his hand on Truett's ribs, feeling for himself that his lover was breathing.

They'd lost the old wolf hours ago, leaving them with two birds and a bear that was wide as the

broad side of a barn. Taima came over, a bowl of something in his hands. Shit, but it smelled

foul.

"What is it?" Haskell asked, amazed at the cracked quality of his voice.

"Good." It was handed over, pushed into his hands.

"Smells bad." That was about all he could say. Nasty.

"Good." His shoulder was nudged again, the bowl brought to his lips.

Trying not to breathe in the scent, Haskell took a sip. The little gal said Taima had big medicine.

He should at least try.

It burned all the way down, but it didn't try to come back up. The heat just burned away the tired

and the scared, left him gasping and blinking and staring at True.

"You. Gracious." That was... It made him feel up to the task ahead. "Strong medicine."

"Good." Taima patted his shoulder, nodded, then wandered back to Aponi to stroke and smooth

the long, shiny hair.

Yes. Well.

Haskell stood, feeling up to it for the first time in a day, and stretched, going outside to do his

business. Then he came back to check on True, feeling like he had to be close.

True's eyes were open, staring at him, and for a second he panicked, terrified that he'd lost his

mate and had missed it. Then True blinked.

"Oh. Oh, True. Hello, love." He smiled, crouching down, reaching out.

True's nostrils flared, a deep sound leaving the long body.

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"Better. You're so much better." Chuffing a little, he let True hear his cat voice, his real voice. That made True's eyes go wide, feet scrambling on the dust as True tried to get to him. Speaking wasn't working, but purring was, and he pulled True close, stroking the rough fur. Sounds just poured over him. Lord, lord. His True'd always been a chatterbox, even since the start, and now was no different. The sounds didn't make much sense, all scrambled like True's head right now. Still, True knew him, somewhere, knew Haskell was his. That he was safe. Thank God. True head-butted him, cheeks sliding on his chin, his jaw, his shoulders. Sweet. Oh, so sweet. He rubbed along that lean body, sharing scent, soothing himself, too. They needed to reconnect, and as the bad medicine rubbed off, he would bring True back to himself. True rolled against him, licking and nuzzling. That purr called to him, so good he could damn near scream with it. His True. This was his True. Strength flowed through him. True would be well enough to move soon, and they could take the lady bear and get far away from the wagons and the last town that had seen them all in cages. True explored him, batted at him, then just wrapped around him -- paws and tail, strong back legs -- and held on tight. Laughing, chirruping, Haskell held on in return, loving on his sweet True, so relieved he thought he might never stop smiling. It would be all right. It would have to. *** He woke in the dark, but it was a true darkness, a nighttime. Something Real and Right and he rolled to his feet, swaying a bit. He stumbled away from fire, the light. He knew that fire meant humans. He knew humans meant pain. Quietly. Quietly. A low, rough sound came from behind him, a long form unfolding itself and becoming a man. The sound was not a man sound, though. It confused him and he moved away. Part of him screamed to go back to those sounds; part of him begged him to escape. "True?" His ears swiveled back and forth. The man had never sounded... kind. He backed up, watching. He called out, curious, something inside him eager to hear more of those noises. "Truett, come back. I can't... I can't see you in the dark like this." The man moved, coming away from the fire, and little purrs poured out, sounds the man who had kept him couldn't make. Not ever. He moved closer, fascinated. Tall, lean... He sniffed, purring. That smell was good. Real. The tall

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form came near, hands reaching out to touch him, and it didn't hurt at all. Not one bit. No roughness, no meanness. This was the one. This was the one that found him in the clouds. He growled, pressing close, calling out his pleasure, his thanks. Kneeling, the man stroked him, praised him, little chuffing sounds puffing against his cheek. Oh, he knew this scent. Knew it deep down. His. This one was his. He let himself go boneless, rubbing against smooth skin and spreading his scent. Where is your tail? Your whiskers? He could scent the cat, hear it, so close. The tip of his tail got pulled, the man teasing him, a game he remembered from before. There was a before, he knew there was. He blinked and pounced, searching for the tail, for that delicious, familiar scent. There was no tail. No ears and no whiskers. The scent was there, though. The deep, rich odor that meant love and home. He growled and purred and fussed, teeth on the too-smooth skin. Poor thing. Lost his fur. He nosed the cloth aside, chuffing when he found a patch of fur. Laughter fell around him before the poor thing moved away and pulled the cloth off, all of it thumping in front of his paws. Then the man came back, and that was almost right. Oh. Mate. Mate. "Yes. Love. Oh, True." The words, the almost made sense. They sounded like something he should understand, had heard before. He stopped, nose against that hip, breathing in deep. His. His Mate. The sounds and touches drew him back, back to their little spot near the fire where it was almost too warm for him, but just right for the unfurry man. He stretched out alongside the man, growling softly when the others came too close. His. "Sleep, True. Heal." Those words made less sense, but he could almost trace the shape of them in the air with his tail, so it didn't matter. He nuzzled in, nose in the center of the man's back, so that he'd know if the man moved. Good. Nap. *** When Haskell woke up the next time, the little gal, Aponi, was tugging at his hair, the only thing sticking out from under True.

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She shook him hard, skittering back when Truett snarled at her, swiping out with one big paw. Haskell shushed his lover, wiggling free. "What is it?" "Horses." She bared her teeth at True, cawing at him. "Coming."

His heart set up a pounding, and Haskell bounced to his feet, casting about wildly for his clothes.

They were nowhere near his change, so he'd have to do this as a man.

Truett was up, bristling, looking back and forth like he couldn't decide who to attack. A low, warning growl had True looking at him, head down, tail lashing. He didn't have time to worry whether his lover would eat the raven. Then True's nostrils flared, ears turning toward the dust, the sound of the horses, and his hackles

raised.

"Yeah..." He just... damn it. "Where's Taima?"

"Flying." Apona pointed to the sky. "Seeing."

"All right. All right. We have to move the lady here back more, away from the front of the cave.

Anything you can scrounge from the lead wagon, you need to get now."

"You want to save mules or no?"

"If we can." Not that the mules would stay in the cave with them... Damn it. He just couldn't

think. He'd been living in town among men too long.

She nodded and headed off, leaving him with Truett. Damn it, he could use some goddamn help.

"Jesus, True. I need you." Muttering, Haskell went to the lady bear and started pushing at her,

trying to get her to move from the spot she'd chosen.

Truett growled, snapping and swatting at the big old mamma. Well, okay. Okay, that worked.

She pushed to her feet, a deep, growling groan escaping her, and Haskell felt damned guilty for

it, but she had to move. True herded her, and Haskell went to help Aponi.

Food and fuel, blankets, pots -- lord, that gal could move.

They stacked everything they could in the cave, including two rifles with ammunition. Then

Haskell checked on their visitors.

Two men on horseback, from what he could tell, the rifle shots proving they were armed.

"Taima!" Aponi cried, shaking as the huge black bird circled.

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"He'll be all right. He'll be fine." If the big raven got shot, that little girl would go plumb crazy. "I need to load the rifles. I'll need your help." "Yes. Yes. I shoot." Oh, he bet she could.

"Then come on." They made tracks back to the cave, dodging the pings of shots that were getting

too close for comfort.

True was snarling and growling, pacing back and forth, panting.

"Hush, True. Save your energy for fighting." He didn't know if Truett understood him, but he

couldn't wait to see. He grabbed a rifle and started loading it, hoping it was in working order.

True snarled, sniffing hard, then going to mark the brush at the edge of the cave. Aponi stared at

him, eyes black as night. "We do not let them take us. We die first."

"No one's gonna die in here. They'll go before we do." No damned way.

"Good. But if no, you kill me. No more cages."

"I will." He looked her right in the eye, nodding, knowing Taima would do it first. "I promise."

"Good. Now, we fight."

The huge black raven landed, the dust flying. Then, suddenly, Taima appeared, strong and

furious. He'd never seen a man with so much control.

True yowled, scrambling back toward the brush.

Oh, True, he thought. If only you could do the same. I need you. Instead of saying it aloud,

Haskell cocked the rifle, nodding at Taima. "Ready?"

Taima nodded, tugging on a pair of breeches and grabbing a sling.

"Let's go see who came to visit," Haskell said, stepping up to the mouth of the cave. Time to

send a message that no more men should come for them.

"Ho there! You have something that belongs to me!" Two men rode up, one the spitting image of

Diavolo.

"I don't think so, Mister." Haskell spit in the dirt, growling out the words before Taima could say

a thing. "You'd best get."

A gun barrel was pointed right at him. "I ain't leaving without my property. The wagon train and

the animals. Now."

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"We're gonna have to agree to disagree." He could move faster than this man thought, and God knew, Taima could fly. "I don't think you understand, son." The gun was cocked, dark eyes staring him down. The other guy spurred his horse, coming around and Aponi drew down on him. He bared his teeth, wanting to rip the man's throat out, feel his blood, hot and sour. "I'm not sure you do. No one is going back in the cage." A low, steady growl sounded from somewhere behind him. Truett. Stalking. Furious. Yes. Yes, love. You know. It was good to know Truett was back there, that he was aware enough to see what was happening. So much better than the drug sleep. "I'd hate to have to kill you, son. We'll start with the girl, though. Daniel said she screamed real pretty." The gun swung over toward Aponi. A hard cry came from Taima, the man distracting Diavolo's twin just enough for them all to move, to start the chain of events that would either set them free or kill them all. Aponi fired first, even as Truett sprang, teeth and claws bared, jumping right for the horses. The pair of horses bucked wildly, hooves slashing at the air as True attacked. Haskell shot for the first man, going wide because of True. He couldn't hit True. Somewhere, the lady bear was roaring, but he couldn't mind that, either. He was too damned busy ducking. Aponi moved closer, crouching before Taima, both cawing and squalling, frightening the horses even more, sending Diavolo's twin crashing to the ground. Everything went to hell then. Haskell felt it, right before it came on him, the animal tearing out, and he called to True without thinking, dropping to his knees. True's roar was triumphant, glorious, promising him the hunt of his life. His skin crackled with energy, his whole body trying to turn inside out, and the horses screamed even louder, scrambling away. The mules broke out of the cave, bucking and kicking, adding to the noise and confusion. Shots and blood, squawking and screaming, and above it all came the steady, happy growls, True reveling in the carnage. Not that he could blame the... Oh. Better. Haskell's clothes fell away, and he leaped at the Diavolo man thing at the same time as True, their hunting skills well matched. True took the ankles and he took the throat, teeth and claws slashing equally. They took the man down like they would a deer, holding him there until he stopped struggling. Until the breath left him.

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He could hear the fading screams of the other, almost hidden beneath the cries and flapping wings of the ravens. It didn't matter. True was staring at him, eyes alight.

His True. His True knew him, now. Knew who he was. Not just instinctively, but in every way.

Knew his real name.

True leapt at him, licking his muzzle, vocalizing happily. Mate! Mate!

True led him from the carnage, into a protected lee of the rock. His ears were cleaned, his body

explored, his tail purred over. Yes. His very own whiskers, his very own tail. He spared a

thought for Taima and Aponi, but he could hear them, knew they were alive, so he spent his time

cleaning Truett, loving on him.

True vibrated against him, his mate was purring so hard. Their tails twined together as they

groomed and licked, assuring each other all was right. Then they curled together, both of them purring. Oh, he knew there was no time for a nap, but it had been so long, surely they could bask a few moments. True lapped his jaw, then settled, boneless and easy against him. Yes. Basking.

Loving.

Mates.

*** Mate! He watched the huge male sleep, admiring the long tail, the thick whiskers. Healthy. Male. Whole.

His.

The black tip of his mate's tail twitched and he stared, following it with his eyes, nose wrinkling.

Oh.

Oh, look at that.

Look at that move.

Oh.

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True's muscles bunched up, whiskers vibrating. Look. At. His. Mate.

POUNCE.

He bit the end of the dark tail, chuffing happily and rolling over in the dust. A low roar sounded,

his one springing up and leaping on him, teeth closing on his shoulder before bouncing off, those

yellow eyes wide and suddenly happy.

Oh! Chasing! He yelped and gave chase, claws digging into the dirt, happier than he could ever

remember.

They romped, his long, heavy love running fast and furious, turning on him a few times, just to

nip his nose and his ear.

He tired sooner than he wanted, panting and slowing, but still so happy.

Hunting.

They needed hunting.

Moving close, his mate rubbed cheeks with him, pushing him down to rest before stretching out

ext to him. Somewhere, he could hear birds calling, could smell bear, but it didn't matter.

He purred so hard it ached, nose-to-nose with his own one. Good. He'd thought his mate was

lost.

Grooming his whiskers, his one purred back for him, the sound deeper than his, rougher. Right.

That tail curled about his, stroking him, soothing him.

Yes. Yes. They should nap.

Nap and then hunt.

Nap, then hunt, then play.

*** Two moons had passed since the men had come for them. Taima and Aponi had helped him burn the wagons and bury the men, had helped the bear birth her cub. He'd spent two nights as a man during the last two months. Two nights.

Haskell was happy as could be that Truett knew him as a cat. He'd thought his lover would never

remember him. But now... Well. Now Haskell was afraid that True would never become human

again.

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It wouldn't be the end of the world, but still. Him and True had fun as men -- eating and loving and chatting and talking. He missed that. Rolling to his feet, Haskell padded to the opening of their den. They'd moved far away from where they'd burned the wagons, traveling for days before they broke off with Taima and Aponi and the bear. True hadn't understood the birds. He'd kept trying to eat them. True woke, rolling onto his back and stretching, eyes watching him. Purring, he walked back to rub noses, inviting his love to come and play outside. They had a large territory now, room to run. True rolled up, following him easily, loping out into the fading light. He watched his lover explore, searching for lizards or little birds, following wherever his nose led him. It made Haskell happy to see, made him wander after, batting at the waving tail. Every so often True would turn, lap at his muzzle, purring so hard the rocks under their feet vibrated. Mate. Now, if he could just make True understand the shift... He would, somehow. It had just been too long. Too much. The moon was coming up full, that would make it easier, make it almost impossible for True not to feel the need to change. Maybe this time True wouldn't sleep through it. Maybe this time he'd change without thinking, and Haskell could explain... Wait. Damn it, where had True disappeared to? He heard the whoosh a half-heartbeat before True pounced on him, rolling him over and over in the dirt. Growling, paddling in the dirt with his feet, Haskell scrambled out from under his one, running, bouncing through the rocks. They romped and played, scrambling until the moon came up, the white light upon him. It was easy, at times like this, to slide between one form and the other. Haskell let the cat go, becoming the man. He stood naked before True, staring into those golden eyes. True stared, wide-eyed. Shocked. Come on. Come on, love. You can do this. Kneeling, he reached out, fingers sliding out to touch True's whiskers. "Oh, love. I miss you." True's breath came fast, then faster, the look in the pale eyes so scared and so curious. "Come to me, True. You remember your Haskell. You remember lemon candies? I still have some in my bag." They had a few human things tucked away, thanks to Taima.

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True pushed closer, shivering, muscles rolling and rocking under his hands. Oh. Oh, hell yes. That's it. Just like that. "Oh, love. Mate. Come on, love." He stroked that heavy body, loving on True, encouraging.

The heavy pelt began to dissolve, True calling for him, claws becoming fingers, heavy muscles

becoming lean.

Tears stung his eyes, and he clutched True to him, feeling smooth skin rubbing against his. "Oh.

Oh, True."

"H... H... Hask..." Lips -- soft, warm lips were on his shoulder.

"Yes. Yes, True. Your Haskell." He wanted to scream his joy to the night. "Oh, look at you."

"Been... I thought." Those eyes looked right into him, seeing him. "I been asleep a long time."

"A long while. You're here now, though." He leaned down, because he just damned well had to,

and took a kiss, tasting that sweet mouth for the first time in too long. Truett mighta been

sleeping for a long time, but that kiss? That kiss was wide awake.

He cupped the back of True's head, fingers sinking into the thick hair, tilting so he could get more. True moaned into his lips, probably still chattering away somehow even as they rubbed together. Bless him, they kissed for a long while, just leaning against each other again, before Haskell pushed True back, looking over that too-skinny body to check for changes. There were scars now -- the round bullet, slashes and tears that were long healed. The little dark mole on True's belly was still there, though, just like always. Stroking it, Haskell hummed, the sound more cat than man. "I love you, True." He needed to say it, just in case. "Love. I dreamed about you. I thought you were gone." "No. Hell, I thought you were dead, lover." He hugged again, tighter this time, needing the

contact.

"I was." True's hands wrapped around him, hands sliding down his spine.

"Not now. I've got you." The moon went behind a cloud, and Haskell held his breath, terrified

that True would slide right back into the cat.

True shivered, but stayed with him, kissing him so hard his knees buckled. "You do. You found

me."

"I had almost given up." Truth was, he had given up. The world was a strange and wonderful

place.

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True pushed against him, licking his mouth, hands sliding up his arms. "You found me." "I did. I'll never let you go again." He wasn't a young fool anymore. He would follow True to the ends of the earth. True laughed for him, hands sliding over his skin. "No. Never again. No cages." He felt True's shudder. "No. Just us." His hands started moving over True with more intent now; he was unable to stop himself. He'd missed the chattering and all, but he'd missed the touching, too. "Hask." His lover felt right, warm and solid against him. "Mine." They stumbled, hanging on so hard to each other that they weren't sure where they were. Haskell finally just dragged Truett back to their den, sinking to the ground with him. Truett's laugh pushed into his lips, his mate's cock heavy and full against his belly. Hot. Oh. Love. He grasped Truett's cock, hand sliding up and down, feeling its weight, its heat. True fit him like no one else had, ever. Those pretty eyes went wide, wild, hot as the noonday sun. "More." Demanding man. Of course, after so long... He grinned wildly, pulling harder, loving the soft skin over the hardness, loving how True moaned for him. True yowled, bucking up under his touch, nails digging into his shoulders. He was fascinated by the way the flat belly rippled, the muscles standing out as his True humped his hand. He wanted True's completion, wanted to see and smell and... Oh. Bending almost double, he put his mouth right there, right at the head of True's prick. "Haskell!" Heat flooded his lips, the eager cock now slick and salty. Moaning, he sucked harder, closing his eyes and letting himself feel it. Oh, he couldn't believe he had this again. True twisted and shifted, moving so that hungry mouth could wrap around his cock, the suction sure and strong, enough to make him yowl. His body arched like a bow, his lips moving around True, his fingers sliding along those lean thighs, all the way up between to cup the fuzzy balls. He could feel True's cries, vibrating around his cock, down around his balls. The long hands tugged at him, pulled him deeper and deeper into that hungry mouth. They became a circle of pleasure, sucking and licking, deep purrs reverberating around their den. They rocked, both of them groaning, sucking, trying to outdo the other with need. Lightly furred thighs framed his face, so soft, so warm, surrounding him with Truett's scent. Haskell felt his release rising up his spine, True's mouth pulling it out of him, and he slid his

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fingers back beyond True's balls, tapping the tight hole. He knew that drove Truett mad. True's muscles went tight, hard all around him, the growl around his cock so damn sweet. All he could do was let go and find his pleasure, his prick throbbing hard in Truett's mouth. He shot until he wanted to scream, but he wanted True with him, so he didn't let go. When the flavor hit his mouth -- strong and bitter and familiar and his -- he growled, entire body

shaking as True came for him.

Love. Mate. His. That was what he'd needed ever since they found each other again.

True's tongue slid along his cock, cleaning him lazily. "Hask."

"Mmm. Truett..." He nuzzled in, scenting them, the tightness in his belly easing. Slipping

around, he curled his arms about True and squeezed. "Missed you."

"I. I'm sorry I didn't come around. I was..." Truett shrugged, looking a tad confused. "Sleeping."

"You were resting. Building strength." How could True think Haskell would blame him? "You

know what I want?"

Truett hummed softly, rocking him a bit. "Mmm?"

"Cornbread and coffee. When you're ready, we'll go into town. But not until you're ready." They

could survive on their hunt until then, and on foraging.

"Soon, Hask. Soon. I... I can feel the cat, right under my skin."

"Then we'll let him come. As long as I know you'll come back to me. I need this." He'd always

been more of the alpha, but he'd always been more the man, too. It was like, no matter what he

was, Haskell was rooted deeply in either.

"You're mine. You find me, when I get lost." Truett hummed, nuzzling his throat, growling

softly.

"I do. I always will."

No matter what it took, he'd find his True. Even if it took stealing a wagon train and hooking up

with the weirdest pair of birds he'd ever seen.

Hell, True had the rest of their lives to make it worth his while.

*** They headed up into the mountains. The mule had their supplies of coffee and meal and sugar, the beast's tack jingling with every step.

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Truett was doing his best not to kill it. They'd both managed for three days in the town before he was itching and Haskell was growling and it was time for them to run and go be them again. Truett sniffed and wandered, pulling the confining coat tight around him. Snows were coming. Heavy snows, he could smell them. Haskell pulled the mule along, humming some ridiculous song, growling every so often as the mule tried to balk. It made a fine tune. Lalala grrrr. He headed back to Hask, licked one stubbled cheek, and bared his teeth at the mule. "Home soon." "Almost there." Smiling, nodding, Haskell kissed his mouth, distracting him from the damned mule. "Think what we can do with the new blankets." "Mmm. And the pans." Haskell liked pans. It was cute. "Well, I was thinking blankets first." They'd stayed in town in a bed, and that had been nice, but he would be glad to get back to their den. Of course, their den was more of a cabin, built into the side of a mountain... "I would like to make a nest for us. Somewhere soft. Somewhere to spread for you." The words made Hask growl a little. He could smell the deep musk suddenly, could smell how Haskell wanted him. Of course, so could the mule, who shied away. It didn't stop him from playing, though, whispering promises about the games they might could play, wrapped in blankets together, weathering the winter. "Mmm. Wicked love." They started up the last incline, their little cabin in sight, and both of them looked up when the deep caw of a raven sounded overhead. True grinned as Haskell waved and smiled. Taima. They nested close by. Close enough that no one would steal any of them. Ever again. Even their lady bear had brought her cub, now old enough to fend for itself, to their mountain. They needed someone to watch over them when they slept in the winter, and between him and Hask and the big birds, they had plenty of watch. He chuffed, nudging Hask toward the cave. Toward their lair. Smiling, Haskell made the rest of the climb, pulling that damned mule. Then he unloaded and turned the mule out. When they went to town next time, they would get a donkey.

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He found the blankets and tossed them into the nest they'd made. The place was warm. Cozy. Theirs. It smelled of smoke and sex and the green wood Haskell whittled. It smelled of home.

Haskell finally came inside, shaking the first snowflakes off his golden hair. "It's going to be

raw, love. If we boil some water I can have my coffee."

Haskell would hoard the precious supplies, using only what they needed, occasionally what they craved. "I like kissing you after coffee."

"Oh, good." Hask smiled for him, coming to touch him, hands sliding along his arms to catch his

hands. Hask had touched a lot before. Now he seemed to need it even more.

"Yours." He knew it, balls to bones. "Here."

"Yes. Mine." Abandoning the water and the supplies, Haskell pulled him down on the blankets,

pushing close to kiss him.

They wrapped together, arms and legs and tongues twining together as they rubbed and rocked,

touching each other. Haskell felt good against him, right. Well, almost right. There was too much cloth barring his way. He tugged the shirt, just barely remembering not to tear it. Last time Hask had pouted for three days. Haskell rewarded him with a kiss, tugging at buttons and snaps, helping to get them bare. A low growl sounded as his pants resisted, but Haskell was always more patient than he was, and didn't rip them. He twisted and stretched, licking at every bit of skin that came into view.

His.

This bit was his and that bit was his and...

So good.

"Mmm. True. More." There was warm skin under there, a sharp contrast to their faces and hands,

and the scent of his mate was strong.

"More." He licked one hip, then the tip of Hask's cock. "You'll take me, now?"

"I will." Those hips flexed, Hask pushing up toward his mouth. "Get me wet, love."

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"Mmmhmm." He nodded, dropping his mouth over that heavy prick like he'd been hunting it, sucking hard, tongue sliding on the shaft. Hask's moan echoed through their den, the scent of his mate stronger, heavier now. That prick rubbed along his tongue, sliding to the back of his throat. He opened up, swallowing and humming, taking his Hask in and in. "True! Soon. I need to... Soon. Stop, love." Tugging at his hair, Haskell pulled him up, got him face to face to kiss him hard and deep. He groaned, straddling Haskell's hips and rubbing. Need. He needed. "Yes." Licking two fingers, Hask reached behind him, pushing inside his body for a few quick strokes. Then he was being lifted, pulled, that still-wet prick pushing where the fingers had been. He cried out into the air as he pushed back, Haskell filling him right on up. Growling, Haskell pushed up, cock sliding inside him hard and deep, even as his one bit into the flesh of his shoulder. That bite had him shaking, moaning, needing even more. Snarling, he threw his head back, offering his throat, his belly, his vulnerable parts. Licking along his neck, Hask bit there, too, leaving stinging little marks all the way down. That cock spread him, opened him, made him want to scream his pleasure. "Yours. Yours. Hask." Words just bubbled out of him, rough and raw and desperate. "Mine. Every inch. Never losing you again." No. No, Haskell had never even let him out of sight when they'd gone to town. "Never." They'd run and hunt and whittle and love. They'd be free. Haskell growled, the sound low and deep and dangerous and hot, then bit him hard, prick jerking wildly inside True's body. The bite was all he needed, seed spraying from him, covering Haskell's belly, scenting the air. They rolled together, laughing and purring, spreading their scent all over their new blankets, the simple joy of being together all they needed. "Love you, True," Haskell said. "Are you ready for the moon?" He licked the tip of Haskell's nose. "Yes. We'll run. You and me." "Yes." No more cages. No more bad men. Just him and Haskell and the ravens and the moon. It was good to be the man these days. It was even better to be the cat.

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The Lost Tiger by Sean Michael Hungry.

Never been so hungry.

Not in the Bad Cage. Not in the Bad Ring. Not ever.

Torao stumbled through the streets toward the lights, bits of glass and tiny stones cutting his

paws. Foots. Mam said Man-paws were Foots. Mam said Lights meant Man and Man meant

Trash and Trash meant Food.

He'd been running for days and days, hiding whenever the Keeper's voice got close. He could

still see his Mam's body, her beautiful pelt matted with blood, Red on White. The Keeper still

smelled of her dung and her blood and her death.

Torao knew that he would be next.

He heard voices, and he slipped around the side of a building into the heavy dark, crouching in

the filth. The clothes he'd found hanging behind a quiet house were too big and dragged in the

muck on the ground, but they saved his skin from the Sun. The voices got closer and he

swallowed back his growl, shaking and hiding. He knew the Outside Rules.

Outside, One must be a Man. Outside, One must hide in Clothes. Outside, One must not feed on

the Man. Outside, One must stay away from the Lights and stay away from the Man Dens, for

they ate Tigers inside.

He knew the Outside Rules. He would find the Trash. He would eat.

Then he would run into the Trees and be a Tiger and hide and howl and mourn and remember his

Mam.

Two Mans walked close by, going down and then up again, passing very near where he hid.

"Oh, come on. There's obviously nothing here!" The voice was impatient, hard, but the one that

answered it was different, gentle and warm.

"I tell you, I saw someone. And they looked like they needed help."

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There was a snort, and then the first voice spoke again. "You and your causes. Really, when you said you'd left Second Harvest, I thought that meant you'd changed. It's the only reason I gave you another chance." The answer was less gentle this time, exasperated. "If me helping people bothers you so much, then you should just go, Duncan. That's never going to change, no matter what job I'm doing." "It doesn't bother me, Greyse, it bores me terribly. You are such a lost cause with your humanitarian crap. We're officially over." The Man who had been speaking stomped away and the one who was left sighed and spoke softly, the words bitter like too-green fruit. "I didn't think we'd ever really begun..." The Man sighed and looked around, eyes narrowed, frowning. "Hello? Is someone there? I won't hurt you." He curled up tighter, shaking, panting with his fear. His belly was rumbling violently, and the more frightened he got, the louder it growled. No. No, he was Not There. It wasn't working though because the Man was coming closer. Peering into the dark he'd found. The Man was dark-skinned and wore blue and red clothes. He was hairless with dark brown eyes. Not at all like the Keeper. Not at all. He smelled better than the Keeper, too. "Please, I won't hurt you. I know you probably don't believe me, but I won't." The Man stopped moving and held out his arms. "See? I'm not armed. Why don't you come out?" Torao blinked, stared. The Man had Arms. Two of them. He whined softly, nostrils flaring. "I am not hurting things." His voice made the Man smile, arms lowering back to his sides. "No, I imagine you aren't. But you looked like you could use a bath. Some food? Maybe even warmer clothes?" The soft, deep voice spoke of Good Things. Necessary Things. "Food." Hungry. He was so hungry. "They... they said I could find Food in Trash." "Oh, you don't want food from the trash! It's dirty and nasty. Come with me. I'll find you something to eat." The Man took a couple of steps back, giving him room. "You don't even have to come in -- I have a yard with grass and a little table with some chairs." "Grass." Oh, he loved the feeling of grass on his muzzle, so green, so sweet. He'd felt it a few times, when the Keeper stopped. "Yes. Yes. Food and Grass." The Man's teeth were bright in his dark face, but it was not a grimace, nor a warning -- it was a smile. "Come on, then. It isn't very far. Maybe a ten-minute walk."

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Torao stood, picked his way across the muck, and moved closer. Sniffing. There was no Bad Angry Smell here, but the Man Who Left had carried one. "Your Companion?" "My companion? Oh! Duncan." The Man shook his head. "Don't worry -- he's not coming back. He was an asshole, anyway; I don't know why I agreed to go out with him. Hope springs eternal, I guess." The Man held out his hand. "I'm Greyson Jones." He looked at the hand and held out his own as he'd seen other Mans do. "Torao." The Man -- Grey Son -- brought their hands together and shook them. The touch was warm and smooth, and kind. He had not felt a kind touch in too long with his Mam gone... Then Greyson dropped his hand and turned, heading toward the road with the lights. "What kind of food do you like? I've got leftovers from last night, but if you're a vegetarian we'll have to stop somewhere for tofu or something." "Any. Any Food." He could eat anything, so long as he ate. Now. "Okay, Torao, leftovers it is. They'll warm quickly in the microwave." There was kindness in that voice. Greyson led him along the street with the lights and lots of Mans. Many of them stared, but some did not. And soon they turned to another street, this one with fewer lights and fewer people, and then they were at a building. "The yard's in the back. I usually go in the back door, anyway." They followed a small stone path around the side of the building, and Greyson opened a gate. There was a little patch of grass beyond it, and a table and chairs and a tree. "Come on in." He entered the yard, nostrils flaring, trying to scent a cage, a trap. The grass felt good on his torn feet, the quiet peace of the garden a balm. The gate was not closed behind him, and Greyson moved toward the building. "I have to get the food and... Well, I'll start with food. You can sit if you like." The dark brown eyes looked at him for a long moment. "I hope you'll stay." Then the Man disappeared into the building, leaving him alone. Torao plopped down on the soft grass, pulling a bit of glass from one paw before letting his fingers dig into the cool, damp green. This Man seemed to be a Good Man. His Mam had told him not all Mans were bad like the Keeper, just like all Tigers were not Good like them. He'd asked her once if all Good Tigers were kept by Bad Mans, but she didn't know.

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Torao hoped not. The Man came back out again, with a flat board that carried things that smelled wonderful. Greyson gave him a chuckle and started moving things from the flat board to the table. "Come sit on a chair, Torao. I have roast beef, mashed potatoes with gravy, carrots and peas, a glass of milk, and blackberry cobbler for dessert. I hope you like it." Greyson sat in one of the chairs and looked at him expectantly. Chair. He had seen those. He headed over, nose twitching and stomach growling as he got closer. Food. Good Food. He climbed up, perched on the chair, and scooped a bit of food with his paw. Oh. Oh, Food. Good Man. Good. Greyson watched, head tilting as he took two metal things from the wood and handed them over silently. Torao took them, staring for only a second before putting them aside and scooping up another bite and another. Food. Good Food. Greyson laughed softly. "Don't trust the knife and fork, eh? Well, you aren't the first. Hopefully the food's not too hot." Sitting back, the Man watched him, though it was not close, more... friendly, maybe. "When you've finished eating, will you let me tend to your feet?" "F... feet?" He followed the Man's eyes. Oh. Paws. "The ground here. Hurts." Then he ate another bite, hoping the Man wouldn't take it away. The Man didn't, but he did keep talking. "That's why most people wear shoes of one kind or another. Something tells me that you're not from around here, though." "No. No. I... We... We went with the Keeper." There. That was Truth but not Too True. The Man frowned. "The Keeper? Did you run away from him?" Greyson smiled just a little, eyes sad. "I won't send you back, I promise. But can you tell me where you've been? What happened?" He finished eating all the food, licking his fingers clean. "We were in the Cage. Mam fought the Keeper, and she died. I runned. I came to the lights for Food." Greyson went pale beneath his dark skin. "A cage? Oh, Torao... I'm so sorry." The Man reached out, hand touching his arm for just a minute. "That's not right. To be kept in a cage. To fight and die." Greyson shook his head. "You can stay here for now. I have an extra room with a bed. And I'd like to call the police, if you could tell them about the place where you were kept, and about this Keeper, they'll look for him, punish him for holding you and for killing your mother."

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"No. No." Police made cages, too. He knew this. The Keeper told them. Huge cages.

"Okay, okay. It's all right -- I won't do anything you don't want me to. This place is safe, you

know? You can stay here, and no one will hurt you or make you talk to anyone. You don't even

have to talk to me if you don't want to, though I hope you will." The Man had nice eyes. Not like

the Keeper at all.

He nodded, licking the juices off the plate, tongue dragging across the dish.

The Man made a noise, but when he looked up, Greyson was only sitting there, teeth biting his

bottom lip. Greyson smiled and met his gaze. "I can get you more. Or maybe you'd like the dessert first, and if there's room, you can have another helping." The plate was gently taken from him, the bowl with purple in it handed over, and the glass of milk was pushed closer. His nostrils flared. Milk. Milk. He purred low; he couldn't help it. Milk was...

Yes.

Milk.

The coldwetsweet flavor filled his mouth and he slurped and lapped and gulped. Good.

This time he recognized the sound the Man made -- it was laughter. Soft, though, not cruel. "I

think I'm going to need to buy another gallon."

He licked his lips, his paw where the milk splashed. Gallon. Milk came in gallons?

Greyson laughed again -- he thought he liked that sound a lot -- and then stood. "I'll get you

some more while you have dessert. I'll bring out the last of the roast, too, shall I?"

"P... please?" He remembered that word. He thought he did, anyway.

"Sure. Unless you wanted to come in and eat in the kitchen?" The Man's look didn't change, like

it would if it was a trap.

"I." His nose twitched. He wanted to see. He did. He wanted to know, but...

"You don't have to, but you'll have to come inside to sleep -- it isn't safe to stay outside at night."

Greyson looked back at the house. "I tell you what. Come on in -- we'll leave the door open for

you. Would that work?"

Torao looked, sniffed the air. The Man seemed to be good. Truly. And he wanted to see, so

badly.

So he would.

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He would see. The Man seemed to see it in him, when Torao decided to go, for he smiled gently. "Excellent." The dishes were all put on the big plate again, even his 'dessert,' and then Greyson led the way in. His instinct was to morph, to pad in, but he fought it, swaying on his aching paws. The room was small, but bright with light, and it smelled good. There were counters and a double sink, several electronic things, including a cold box the Keeper used to call the Fridge, a small table with two chairs around it, and a bench against the wall. Greyson nodded toward a chair. "Make yourself at home." He jumped on the bench and rested, wishing he had his tail to curl over his nose. The dessert was put back in front of him, along with a spoon. Greyson moved about the room easily, taking a plastic jug full of milk out of the cold box and pouring out another tall glass, putting that in front of him as well. "Go on. Eat up." Then Greyson seemed to ignore him, putting the dishes from the tray in the sink and running water over them. Next, another plate came out of the cold box, this one carrying the roast. As he watched, Greyson cut several pieces from the roast, put them on a plate, and then put the plate in a white box with buttons. "It'll be ready in a minute. Hey, you haven't eaten any of your cobbler yet -- don't you like sweets?" "Sweet?" Milk was sweet. Grass was sweet. "Yeah, sweets -- dessert." Greyson tilted his head. "Don't tell me you've never had dessert before." The Man came and knelt in front of him, digging the spoon into the bowl on the table and scooping up some of the food. Then the spoon was offered up to him. "Give it a try. Trust me; I think you'll like it." He leaned over, lapping the brighttartsweet flavor. Oh. Oh! More! Greyson laughed and the sound was good -- like the flavor of the dessert. The spoon was handed to him as the white box with the buttons started beeping. He jerked, blinking at the box, waiting to see if it would hurt him. It didn't seem to bother Greyson, though; the Man just went over to the white box and opened it, bringing out the plate with the roast on it and plunking it down onto the table next to his bowl of the wonderful sweet.

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"There you go. And if you're still hungry, I'll get you some more."

Oh. Oh, he approved. What a very good Man. What a very good Man, indeed.

The jug of milk came back out of the cold box as well, sitting on the table. "In case you want

more milk." Then Greyson put some of the dessert into another bowl and sat across from him with it, humming a little as he put the spoon in his mouth. "That is nice, isn't it? Miss Agnes lives next door, and she's always bringing over desserts because I take out her garbage for her and make sure the kids don't bother her." He nodded and ate, panting and lapping at the good milk, the rich taste of the meat.

Greyson ate more slowly, so that they were done at about the same time.

"Now that your belly is full, can I do something about your poor feet?"

"Hurt?" He didn't want to hurt anymore. He didn't. He was tired of hurt.

"Well, it might hurt a bit -- it depends what's in them. I'm just going to clean them, pull out

anything that shouldn’t be there -- that's the part that'll hurt. And then I'll wrap them in bandages.

Is that okay?" Greyson's dark eyes were so kind.

"Okay." Bandages. He really just wanted to lick them.

"Good. If you want, we could do this in the bathroom where the light is better. Or in the living

room, where you would be more comfortable on the couch." Greyson got up, moving out of the

kitchen and disappearing down a small hall, voice fading away.

Torao blinked, watching the door, then the hall, then the door.

How odd.

Greyson appeared in the hall again, hands full of stuff. "You sure you want to do this in the

kitchen? You'd be far more comfortable in the living room. Or you could come see where you'll

be sleeping, and if you sit on the bed while I do this, you won't have to walk any more..."

Oh. Sleeping. He could Nap.

He so could.

"You. You let me nap here?" The Man wasn't frightened of him?

Greyson nodded. "That was the idea when I said you could stay here, that you'd be safe here."

"You... You are not scared?" How odd.

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Greyson tilted his head. "You mean of you? Well, I wasn't. Are you planning to hurt me?"

"No. No, you are good. I would not." He would not. He was Good.

"Well then. I'm not scared."

Greyson gave him another soft smile. "Now, make up your mind -- where do you want your feet

fixed?"

"I. In the nap-place?"

"Yeah, I think that's best, too. Follow me and I'll show you where it is."

They walked down the little hall he'd seen Greyson disappear along earlier, and then turned into

a small room with a ceramic tub, sink, and the thing Mans called a toilet. "This is the bathroom.

Do you need to go?" Greyson nodded at the toilet.

Those he'd knew of, and he wandered in, looking. This was much brighter and cleaner than any

others he'd seen.

"I can wait outside if you're pee-shy." Greyson filled up a small basin with water. "Let me just fill this up and then I'll leave you to it." "Okay." Pee-shy. The water came from the taps, clear and... He reached out to touch.

It was warm, gentle against his paw. "I'm filling the basin to clean your feet, yeah? Get rid of the

dirt and the blood and see what's what."

"Warm." The feel and sound of the water made his belly hurt, so he made use of the commode,

just like he'd seen the Mans do.

"Okay, if you're done..." Greyson led him back out into the little hall, and they didn't go very far

before they turned into another door.

The light here was softer, not so bright, and there were just a few boxes in the room. One long

and low, with blue blankets on it, the other taller, thinner, and with little knobs.

"You can take a seat on the bed."

The bed was tall and he leapt up, going stiff and still as he sank down in a strange softness.

Oh.

Oh!

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Oh, wrong.

Greyson frowned. "Hey, are you all right, T?"

The basin of water and other stuff landed on the box that was not the wrong bed, and Greyson

came to sit next to him.

"I. Moves. Soft. I." He growled, paws rolling on the soft.

Greyson bounced a bit. "I guess it's a little soft, but that's how I like it, and I kind of assumed it

was how everyone does. I mean, I've slept on some hard-assed mattresses, and that's no fun. Oh, man, did you not even have a mattress where you've been kept?" Greyson shook his head and looked angry. "Mattrrrrrrrrrrrrress?" That was a fun sound to make.

"God. I really wish you'd let me bring the police in to take your statement. You've been abused,

T. And that's not right." Greyson patted the soft thing they were on. "It's called a mattress. You lie on it when you sleep. And it's soft so that you don't get sore." He let himself lean down, curl into the soft with a soft purr. Oh. Gentle. Greyson chuckled. "There you go. Of course, I really need you to sit with your feet over the edge, like me." He let his paws dangle without sitting up. Honestly, Mans were so inflexible. Greyson laughed, the brown eyes twinkling at him. "That'll do." Then the Man went down on his knees and wet a cloth in the basin, bringing it up to squeeze the water out over his feet. "This might hurt a bit -- it depends on how badly your feet are torn up. The street is no place to go barefoot." "Barefoot." How else did one go? His paws curled, claws wanting out. "Just try and relax, I'll be as quick as I can." Still, even though Greyson said that, the Man poured water over his paws again and again, and then some more. He wiggled idly, half-dozing, remembering the hours his Mam and he had played in the shallow pools and ponds. Then the Man started rubbing the cloth over his paws, irritating the bits of glass and sharp rocks that had embedded themselves in his paws. Torao growled softly, muscles jerking and wanting to pull away. Out. Out of him.

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"Yeah, you've got a bunch of stuff stuck in here. Let me just get a bit more of the dirt off, and I'll start pulling the... splinters out." Greyson's hand slid onto his leg, petting gently, soothingly. "Out." Out of him. Yes. Out. He sniffed, the blood in the air making him uncomfortable. "Yeah. There. Man, it looked like you had half the dirt in the city on your feet." Greyson moved the basin away and moved his foot this way and that. "There're no big cuts as far as I can see, but lots of stuff's stuck. I've got a pair of tweezers and I'll try and get it all out. Then I'll put on some ointment and wrap them for you." "Out." He wanted to shift, to lick, to nap.

To curl up with his tail.

"Yeah, yeah, working on it."

He felt a sharp tug and then another, one by one the things in his paws coming out. Most of the

pains were little, but some were bigger, and the Man somehow knew when, murmuring softly,

soothingly. One made him cry out, claws digging into the mattress, wanting to tear.

"Sorry, sorry. I've saved the worst 'til last. There's one more bad one in this foot and three in the

other. I'm sorry. It's going to hurt, but they've got to come out." Greyson held his foot very, very

hard and had to dig with the tweezers and then yank something that was jagged and felt very,

very large out from his paw.

He roared, voice ringing out and echoing, making the walls shake.

"Wow! What the hell was that?" Greyson blinked up at him, looking a little shocked. "Wow, you

have a voice, man."

"Hurt." He pulled his paw up to his face, looked at it. It needed licking.

"I know. You need shoes. You can't just go walking with bare feet in the city. We'll get you

shoes."

Greyson petted his leg again and took hold of his other foot. "These three look pretty bad as well,

T. Are you ready?"

No. No, it hurt. But out hurt better than in, so he nodded. "Out."

"Yeah, out. Okay, here it goes." The Man was quick and that was the only good thing about it.

That and finally it was done and all the things were out.

"There. There, done. Let me just..." Something cool was spread on his paw, and his other paw

was tugged back out of his hands, the sort of wet cool stuff slathered on it, too.

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"Bandages now," Greyson said, smiling up at him. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

His paws throbbed and burned and ached, the toes going tight and loose, tight and loose. Hurt.

But better.

And every moment it was better.

And better.

Greyson sat back up on the bed again, bandages in his hand. "You look like you could use a

shower, but I think it would be better if you stayed off your feet until tomorrow. I could refresh

the water in the basin, and you could take a sponge bath if you're feeling gritty."

"I am good." He could bathe himself. He could straighten his fur.

"Okay." Greyson took his paw again and began to wrap the white bandages around it. "I'll just

get this done and let you sleep."

"I. You are a good Mans."

For some reason that seemed to make Greyson sad. "Not everyone wants to hurt you or put you

in a cage, Torao. I'm sorry that it happened to you."

Torao shrugged. "I am free. I will not go back. It is better to die."

"You are free. And you don't have to die." Greyson's hand slid up his leg, petting again, after

both his paws were wrapped in the silly bandages. "Look, I'm just across the hall if you need anything, all right? Just call out. Is there anything I can get you before I go?" "No. No. I nap." He would change. Groom. Stretch. Sleep.

"Okay. Sleep well." Greyson patted his leg one more time and then stood, going to the door.

"You want the light on or off?"

"Off." His eyes worked in the dark.

"Cool. Goodnight, T."

The room went dark.

Torao moaned and stretched, groaning a bit as he changed into his true form and began to chew

the cloth from his paws. He needed to lick.

Lick and groom and nap.

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Nap in the Soft. *** Saturday mornings were for sleeping in, but Greyson was up at dawn this particular Saturday. Worried about Torao. Wearing clothes that obviously weren't his own, feet bloodied and hurt, and running away from a man with a cage. It seemed unbelievable, except that he'd seen Torao for himself and there had been no hint of guile in the young man's story about the cage. The fact that he didn't want to go to the police only meant he was truly scared, or that he'd had run-ins with them before. Just thinking of that poor baby in a cage... Greyson clenched his hands into fists. Some people didn't deserve to fucking live. He wasn't sure what to do about that. This guy obviously needed to be stopped, because men like that would go out and get a new victim if they lost the one they had, but he didn’t know how he could be the one to do it if Torao wouldn’t talk to him. He could, however, do something about Torao. He could make sure that the man had a safe place here. He gave in to his urge to go and check on T. He crossed the hall and poked his head around the corner of Torao's room, eyes going to the bed. Instead of the pale man with the startling shock of black hair, there was a. A. A.

No.

No, there wasn't.

People didn't have white tigers snoring in their guest rooms.

He stepped back, went to his room, and pinched himself.

Hard.

Twice.

Ow.

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Okay. He was awake.

He looked in the mirror over his dresser. His own face stared back at him, looking normal. Well,

maybe not entirely normal, he looked a tad freaked out. Especially around his eyes. But

otherwise he looked like himself, not like some sort of dream or drug twisted version of himself.

Okay.

He was going to do this again.

He went back out into the hall and went into T's room again.

Oh, fuck.

Fuck.

He might have screamed.

Just a little. Possibly more than a little.

He backed out as quickly as possible, closing the door and wishing like hell it had a lock.

Shit.

Shit, he'd told Torao that he was safe here. That nothing would hurt him. And instead a fucking

tiger had eaten the guy. How the hell had it gotten in?

His heart was triphammering as he went back into his room and closed the door, started pushing

his dresser over in front of the door. He'd make sure he was safe and then call... shit, who did you

call?

He thought he heard doors opening and closing, and then he knew he heard his name called out,

along with "Good Man."

He stopped pushing at the dresser and cautiously opened his door a crack, peeking down the

hallway. Torao stood there, naked as the day he was born, blinking and scratching his belly.

"Torao!" He opened the door further and waved T in. "Come on, hurry! Hurry!" That T hadn't

been injured by the tiger was a miracle, but Greyson didn't figure they needed to tempt fate.

"Hurry what?" Torao wandered closer, beautiful eyes shining.

He grabbed Torao's arm and tugged the guy into his room, closing the door behind them both. "I

don't want to scare you, but there's a tiger in your room." God, it sounded insane when he said it out loud. But he'd seen it with his own eyes -- a beautiful, big white tiger.

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Torao laughed -- the sound almost a chuff. "No. Not in that room."

"Torao, I saw it. It was... a tiger. On the bed. I thought it had eaten you -- I'm so glad it didn't. I

know it sounds crazy, but I saw it." He shook his head. He could have sworn he'd locked the back

door -- how did it get in? And maybe he was going crazy. Just a little. Possibly more.

Torao nodded, stretched, looking completely unconcerned. "Napping. Napping in the sun."

"You let it in?" He knew he'd locked that door, but if Torao had gotten up and let the tiger in…

"But why?" It didn't make sense, though -- how did the tiger fit in with the man and the cage?

Oh. "Did the bad man keep you in the cage with the tiger?"

Torao tilted his head. "I. Yes? No? I was in the cage."

"And the tiger?" Come on, T, he thought. There's a fucking tiger in the house, focus.

Torao nodded, smiled at him. He sighed. Was Torao afraid he'd kick the young man out because

of the tiger? He wasn’t like that. Well, the tiger couldn't stay. It was... a tiger.

"I won't be angry, T. But you've got to tell me -- did you let the tiger in?"

"No. You let tiger in."

"No, I didn't. I let you in, and then I locked the door." He wasn't sure if T was being deliberately

obtuse, but the man hadn't appeared this... slow last night.

Torao nodded. "Yes."

God. And the worst of it was Torao looked so earnest. Maybe he needed to approach this from a

different angle. "Is the tiger dangerous?"

"No. No, you are Good."

"So he won't hurt us? We can go see the tiger?" Maybe with the tiger right there in front of him,

T would have some better answers for him.

"You see the tiger now?" Torao blinked at him, head tilting.

"Yes." He nodded for emphasis. "You said it was safe, so we'll go together and see the tiger."

"Yes. See tiger." T stretched and growled, the air around the man shimmering, then there was a

white tiger where the man had just been.

"Fuck!" He slammed back against the door, eyes wide. He couldn't have just seen... Pretty hard

Fur and Fang - 91

to continue that one, when there was a fucking tiger in front of him where Torao had been just

seconds ago. He was obviously losing his mind.

Of course, the tiger seemed as scared of him as he was of it, backpedaling, paws sliding on the

floors.

"Torao?" Could there really be a white tiger in his room with him? Could that tiger have really

been a man just moments ago?

Was there any way this didn't sound insane?

The tiger nodded, head bobbing, teeth bared to him. So white.

He waved one hand, still pressed up hard against the door. "Hi."

One paw raised to him and he could suddenly see it, see Torao in those eyes.

Wow.

He sank slowly down along the door until he sat there, watching the beautiful tiger who was

also... a man. The tiger stared at him, purring softly, tail thumping lazily on the floor. He’d lost

his mind.

Impulsively, he reached out, wondering if the white fur was as soft as it looked.

Oh.

Oh, soft. Silken. Warm.

His hand looked so dark against the white fur, and he couldn't remember touching anything so

soft in a long time.

"Wow," he said softly, fingers sliding down over T's nose. He chuckled at the velvety skin. "This

is unreal."

T's tongue was rough, lapping his fingers. It felt pretty damned real.

He moved a little closer, his other hand sliding around to sink into T's ruff. Soft and thick, it felt

wonderful. T rumbled and leaned, chin resting on his thigh. The long whiskers tickled him,

teased his skin.

"I still kind of think I must be dreaming," he murmured, sinking both hands in T's fur. It felt

good, really good. And how could he be hallucinating something that felt so real?

T rolled over, batting at the air with huge paws. The back ones were scabbed and raw, cut open. Well, if he hadn't believed his eyes when he'd seen T turn into the tiger, there was more proof.

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He let himself rub the white belly, but stayed away from the hurt paws, thinking that might be a good way to get bitten. Like sitting on the floor of his room petting a fucking full-grown tiger wasn't. Of course, when Torao's tongue lolled out, it made the huge beast seem even less scary. He laughed and scratched his fingertips hard along T's belly. "You're just a big ball of fur, aren't you?" And what exactly was he going to do with this big ball of fur? Torao rippled and chuffed, obviously laughing. "So you can understand what I'm saying while you're like this, then?" He didn't really expect an answer, but he liked to think he wasn't really just talking to himself here -- given how high he was already pinging on the gone-crazy scale. T's head bobbed, nose wrinkling up once, then Torao shimmered again, fur disappearing quite unexpectedly. And suddenly he was stroking the slender muscles of T's naked belly and he yanked his hands back. "Sorry! I didn't mean to..." T blinked up at him, arching in a lazy stretch. "Good?" He swallowed and nodded. "I think so? I mean... well, you're a tiger. Is that why you were in a cage?" "My dam was in a cage, so I was." "Your dam? Oh, your mother? Was she like you? I mean... human as well as a tiger?" God, he'd bet a freak show or circus would just love something like this... "Yes. Man and tiger." T nodded happily. "And that's why you were in a cage..." He shook his head. T and his mother were people as well as tigers, how could anyone cage them? Because people were assholes, and if it made them a buck some of them would sell their own grandmothers, he knew that. "Yes. Man and tiger in the cage." Torao stood and stretched, naked cock altogether too close to him for comfort. He went to stand himself, but his foot was asleep and he wound up bumping his head into Torao's thigh, the scent of the man strong and musky. His own cock perked up, reminding him it had been too damned long since he'd gotten laid. Torao reached for him, helped him up, seemingly unconcerned about the lack of clothing. "You. It is good? It is not good?"

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"It's... strange. But that's not bad. We'll figure it out, and you can still stay here." He couldn't keep himself from checking out Torao's naked body, but as soon as he caught himself at it, he forced himself to meet T's eyes. "Clothes. You need some clothes. You can borrow some of mine." "Borrow?" The limits of T's experience were... quite overwhelming, honestly. "I'll give you some clothes." He opened his dresser drawers and found a pair of boxers, handing

them and a t-shirt over. T was more than a little distracting as he was. And very well hung.

He jerked his head back up to T's eyes.

T's head tilted, those eyes watching him carefully, closely, nostrils flaring. "You. You wish to

mate?"

"Mate? What? No!" Heat filled his face, and he shook his head, not that his cock wasn't giving

that away as a lie. "Of course not. I mean. I won't touch you, I promise. You're safe." Just put the

damned clothes on...

"Oh." Torao slid the clothes on, keeping just far enough away that he wasn't tempted to touch.

Was it wishful thinking on his part, or had T sounded a bit disappointed?

He cleared his throat and smiled. "Let's get something to eat, yeah? Sit down and have breakfast

and figure out where you're running from and what we're going to do." He'd bet Torao didn't

even know what a social security number was, let alone have one.

"Eat. I go in the darkness and leave the lights." T nodded, walking carefully on feet that had to be

screaming this morning.

"What? What do you mean, go?" Where the hell did T think he was going to go? Especially hurt

as he was.

"Mam says 'run and hide in the trees, eat from the cans in the Man-towns.'"

Greyson winced. He supposed it wasn't the worst advice going, if you thought like a tiger.

He got T sitting, off those poor feet, and started poking through the refrigerator. "T, you'll get

sick if you eat from the garbage cans. And if anyone sees a tiger? Folks are going to want to

capture it at best, kill it at worst."

"Better dead than in the cage." T sounded so sure.

"It was pretty bad, huh?"

"No. Not pretty. All bad."

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He nodded. "Pretty bad's an expression; it means bad." He pulled out a carton of orange juice and brought it and two glasses over to where T sat. "Did they make you do stuff?" he asked, pouring the juice out. "They had fire. Sticks. We jumped and roared." T ducked his head, looking away. Greyson reached out to slide his hand along T's arm, instinctively trying to comfort him. "I'm sorry you were treated like that. Did they know? That you were a man, too?" "Yes. They know. Mans pay for tigers like us." "That's awful!" He squeezed T's arm, the skin beneath his fingertips warm and soft, though not nearly as soft as the tiger's fur had been. "You're pretty damned unique and special and shouldn't have been treated like that." "Free now. No more cages." T nodded to him, bright eyes so serious. "No, no more cages. No garbage cans for food and hiding in the trees, though, Torao. We'll find something that works for you, 'kay?" God, if T went back out there as naive as he was, he'd find himself in God only knew whose clutches. There were a lot of people who'd exploit T just for the pretty young man he was, let alone the fact that he could turn into a tiger. "Works." Torao's nose twitched, eyes on the juice. "Bright." "Yes, it's orange juice -- it tastes bright, too. What kind of food were you fed?" he asked, pushing the glass of juice toward T. T shrugged. "Meat. Water. Brown things." He made a face. "Brown things? That doesn't sound very appetizing. Have the juice -- you'll like it." He wanted to introduce T to fruit and fresh vegetables, to all sorts of breads and chocolate – oh, God, he'd bet T would be amazed at chocolate. Good brown stuff. T's eyes went wide as he lapped at the juice, then the entire glass was gulped down. Greyson grinned. Oh, man, he was going to need to go shopping. And get lots of everything. As soon as the glass was empty, he refilled it. "More. Thank you. More. Good." T drank deep, then put the glass down, pouncing on him, rubbing their cheeks together. It surprised him at first, but then he realized it was what the tiger would do, and he rubbed back, happy to share this with Torao. It felt good, too, T's cheeks much smoother than his own rough ones.

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"You didn't spend a lot of time as a man, did you?" "No." T purred for him, nuzzling. "Tiger is easier." "Yeah?" He sort of murmured the word, enjoying the nuzzling, doing nothing to stop it. It felt good. T felt good. "Mmmhmmmmmmmmmm." T licked his jaw, tongue dragging on his skin. He swallowed, a part of his brain thinking he shouldn't be doing this, the rest of him totally ignoring that, enjoying T's touches. He turned his head a little, so T's tongue slid across his lips. T chuckled, tongue cool and orange-flavored and slick. He smiled, staring into T's eyes, his lips chasing T's tongue, sucking it into his mouth. Oh, God, T tasted good. Torao's eyes went wide, a soft sound pushing into the contact. He sucked softly, T's tongue hot inside his mouth. Good. He reached for Torao's face with his hand, fingers sliding on the warm cheeks. T nuzzled into his touch, purring away like a huge housecat. He turned the sucking into more of a kiss, T's lips soft and good against his, the low purring noises making everything vibrate. When T pulled away to smile at him, those fingers dragged against his skin, feeling him. "Good?" "Oh, yeah. You?" He wouldn't do anything to hurt T, but if T wanted it, too... He smiled, nuzzling into T's touch as much as T nuzzled into his. Of course, he could be getting ahead of himself. Maybe T just wanted to kiss, to pet a bit. He sure hoped not, though. "Good. Come nap in the sun?" Torao took his hand, tugged him toward the bedroom again. He got up and let T lead him down the hall and into the spare room with its east-facing window. Sure enough, the bed was full in the sun, the covers all twisted together to make a nest in the middle of the bed. T leapt, bouncing in the center of the bed with a toothy grin. "Nap!" He laughed, T's grin infectious. He got on the bed with T, wondering what all this nap consisted of. T purred and tugged him down, settling him quite carefully before beginning to groom him. With his tongue. "Oh." Greyson groaned, his cock pushing at his pajama bottoms, trying to get to T. He ignored it, reaching out to touch T, slide his fingers over the pale skin, the sweet muscles beneath the silky skin.

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T just explored, completely unconcerned with pushing his clothes out of the way, licking and lapping at his hips. He moaned, fingers stuttering along T's skin. "Feels so good," he murmured.

He found one of T's nipples with his fingers, tugging on it gently. T blinked, stared at him, at his

fingers on the pale skin.

"Is this not okay?" he asked, fingers still wrapped around the little nub. Had he misunderstood

that badly? Had grooming really been all T'd meant this to be?

"I. You." Torao leaned forward, whispered. "Good."

He smiled and rubbed their noses together before whispering back. "It can be even better. Have

you ever made love as a man?" He slid his hand over to T's other nipple, fingertips flicking

across it.

"No. No. Hurts to, so the tiger comes."

"Hurts? No." He shook his head, hands coming up to cup Torao's face, to meet his eyes. "It

shouldn't hurt. It doesn't have to hurt." God, what had been done to T?

One eyebrow arched, T's head tilting. "No?"

"No. God, no." He pushed closer, rubbing against T. "No. It's actually pretty great. And it's not

like we even have to do... penetration. We could just rub off, or suck each other off. God, T. It

can be so good. Really. I could show you."

Torao looked utterly confused, hands opening and closing on his skin. "Show you. Me."

He nodded and brought their mouths together, lips moving softly against T's. "Just lie back, and

let me make you feel good."

"I..." T touched him, frowned. "How?"

"I'd like to suck you." He slid his fingers down and circled T's cock. "My mouth here. No teeth, I

promise."

He pumped T's prick a few times, wondering if tigers masturbated and if so how and did T only

associate good things about sex with the tiger? Having a new lover always involved learning

each other, but with T it seemed there was a whole other layer of learning that was needed as

well.

T simply blinked, staring at his hand on that pretty, long cock.

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"Tell me if I do something you don't like, Torao, and I'll stop. Right away. Okay?" He leaned forward to bring their lips together again, kissing softly before wriggling his way down T's body. He made sure to stop and lick at each nipple, at T's navel, and the lovely ridges of T's abdomen, wanting it to be as good as possible. He didn't think he'd ever been anyone's first time before. It had to be good. T groaned, panting a little, eyes rolling as those hips rolled. Yeah, it was pretty fucking good, especially if you'd never had a blowjob before. He let T's cock rub against his cheek as he licked through the black pubes around T's cock, and then he nuzzled T's balls, licked them a couple of times, stretching it out a little before he headed for the long, hard cock. T cried out, jerking up into his touch, looking perfectly stunned. He smiled up and pet T's thigh reassuringly. "It's okay. I'm going to make you feel good." He licked the sweet dip beside T's hip, and then turned his head and repeated the lick, this time from the base of T's cock all the way to the tip. He teased his tongue across the top and looked up to make sure T was enjoying and not panicking. It would have been so easy to lose himself in the salty taste and the musky scent and the wonderful heat. So odd, to forget himself so quickly to this beautiful stranger, but he did, T rolling up and reaching for his touch. He took Torao's foreskin between his lips, playing with it before wrapping his lips around the tip of T's cock and slowly going down about halfway. He used his hand to jack the bottom half of T's prick, his head bobbing slowly, tongue playing over the tip, slapping at it and flicking over it. The sounds Torao made were amazing -- sharp and deep and surprisingly loud and... Feral. Animal. Erotic as hell. He shifted so his own prick rubbed against the bed, each of Torao's sounds making him throb and need. He sucked harder, head beginning to bob faster. He would show T how good making love could be. Torao tried to roll, hips thrusting instinctively, cock pushing into his throat gracelessly. Shit. Shit, he'd never met anyone who gave it up like this, so free, so completely. He opened wide as he could and let Torao take his mouth, fingers sliding to stroke over T's balls. So hot and urgent and abandoned -- it was thrilling. Those heavy balls tightened, T's cock throbbing in his lips, swelling for him, warning him.

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He could have pulled off, but he figured T was new to this, would be clean, and so he just sucked harder. He slid his fingers back beyond T's balls, teasing the wrinkled little hole. The roar T gave shook the windows, the splash of spunk on his tongue bitter and salt and faintly sweet. He swallowed T down, mouth and tongue gentling on the hot flesh, but still moving, drawing out T's pleasure. T slumped down into the sheets, panting and huffing, hands opening and closing. He slowly let T's prick go and kissed one hip. Then, ignoring his own throbbing cock in favor of sliding his hands over T, he touched and stroked, gently bringing T down. That purr vibrated through him, the sound loud and satisfied. Happy. "See? Making love as a man is good. No hurting." Though his own balls were starting to ache, but that was a hurt of a different kind altogether, and he'd get relief soon enough, even if it was by his own hand. "Good. No hurting." T groaned and stretched, face rubbing against his chest and belly, fingers sliding over his legs. Oh, he was going to start rumbling himself if T kept that up. He shifted onto his back, spreading his legs a little, opening himself up to T's touching and rubbing. "That's how it's supposed to be." Torao made a noise that he hoped was an agreement, then that mass of black hair with the white streaks sort of splashed on his skin, followed by those soft cheeks. Much as he would have liked to watch, he couldn't, because his head fell back onto the mattress, his back arching as he stretched out for T, offering as much of his skin as he could. He'd never been explored with such curiosity, with such attention. T licked and touched, purring over his navel, lapping the clear liquid from the tip of his cock. He held his hips as still as he could, but just couldn't stop the way they jerked the first time T's tongue touched him, nor the long groan that came from his throat. "Oh, God. T." He had one hand wrapped in the sheets, but the other moved over Torao, sliding through the soft mess of hair, touching T's cheeks and shoulders. Torao arched for the petting, licking more and more eagerly at his cock as he touched. "Feels good. Feels so good." He kept petting, trying to encourage T, make sure Torao knew how good it was for him. And it sure was good. The untutored licks and touches were sending pleasure shooting up his spine, the ache in his balls growing more pronounced as each moment passed. Then T's tongue found his balls, bathing them, surrounding him in an amazing wet heat. He cried out, heels planting in the mattress, giving him leverage to push himself up against T's

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mouth. Focused on his nuts, tongue bathing him and making him twist and cry out, T seemed determined to send him over the edge just from that attention. Then that tongue slid lower, rubbing over his hole. He shouted out, hand grabbing his cock. That touch, along with T's tongue on him, were enough to send him over the edge. His whole body shuddered as the come poured out of him in pulses, each touch of T's tongue sending another ripple through him until finally he lay there, limp, melted, panting for breath. Then Torao crawled up and licked him clean, tongue dragging and rough on his skin. He moaned softly, his fingers moving through T's hair, over T's skin, touching whatever he could reach. For a novice, T was fucking amazing at this. "Come kiss me," he whispered.

"Kiss." T's purr tickled, deep inside his belly.

His breath caught and he half laughed, half moaned, fingers wrapping in Torao's hair, tugging

gently. "Yes. Yes, please."

"Pllllllease." Torao grinned, those eyes seeming to almost glow. Pretty.

He laughed, rubbing against Torao as the lithe body slowly moved up along his own.

As soon as he could, he brought their lips together, moaning into the heat of Torao's mouth. T

tasted like him, and a little bit wild, and he pushed his tongue deep, sweeping it through T's.

How could anyone have caged this? Hurt it?

He shifted slightly and they curled together, mouths and fingers touching, the sun warming their

skin.

"I'm glad I was walking by that alley," he murmured against T's lips.

"Mmmhmm. Alley with the other Mans."

He chuckled. "Yeah, and here I thought that had been a waste of time. I guess everything

happens for a reason, doesn't it? You'll stay with me, won't you?" The words were out before he'd even really thought about it, but now that he'd said it, he realized he wanted it, wanted to protect, and care for, and make love to, this amazing... Torao. "Stay?" Torao nuzzled in, eyelids drooping. "Nap."

He chuckled. "Yeah, nap." It was good enough for now.

Torao licked him again, then the air around the man seemed to shimmer and shift. Suddenly

Torao got heavy and toothy and fuzzy.

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He swallowed a scream -- he'd done the girly scream already once today, thank you very much -but went stiff. The paw on his belly was much larger than T's hand, and he'd bet the claws he couldn't see were sharp as hell, but he fit in against Torao's belly just right, the fur soft and warm. And T's purrs were something else, vibrating against him. He petted T's belly carefully. "Just don't forget you like me," he whispered, making himself relax. Torao chuffed and curled around him, tail heavy on his thigh. He rubbed his cheek against T's fur. Damn, that was soft. He could maybe get used to this. As long as he made it through the nap without getting punctured by either tooth or claw.

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Chapter Two Torao slept and wandered, ate and slept more, exploring Grey-Son's house and yard, both as a tiger and a man.

There were upstairs rooms and downstairs rooms, places to soak in the water and places to nap in

the sun.

Torao Approved.

He stretched out on the cool grass, paws batting at the grasshoppers and butterflies.

Yes. Approved.

He thought he heard his name, but he was feeling too lazy to go inside again and look. A

moment later Grey-Son came out of the back door and made a squeaking noise. "T! You can't be out here like that!" He rolled over to his other side and stretched, blinking, the grass tickling his whiskers.

Grey-Son came rushing over to him. "I'm serious, T. If anyone sees you, they'll call the cops!

You need to be a man outside. Really." Grey-Son looked around and then back at him. "Please?"

He sighed, rolling his eyes and growling. He liked the grass. He thought of himself looking like a

man, feeling like a man. Being a man.

Bor-ring.

"Oh, crap! You can't be out here like that, either!" Grey-Son tugged off the shirt he wore and

wrapped it around Torao's waist. "I'm sorry, but the cops'll get called if you're naked, too."

Torao sighed, stalking into the cage-house and heading for the little guess-room. Naptime.

Before he bit something.

Grey-Son followed him, hands sliding over his shoulders just before he got there. "T. I'm sorry.

There's just certain rules we have to follow if we don't want to bring attention to you. I hate to

think what would happen if someone found out about you."

Torao wasn't sure what to say, so he didn't. He nuzzled Grey-Son's hand, then leapt to the bed to

lick his paws and rest. Grey-Son came and sat next to him, hand sliding over his skin before he

could shift. "We need to find you something to do, don't we? Can you read?"

"Rrrrrread?" Grey-Son knew odd things.

Grey-Son nodded. "Books? Stay there and I'll get one."

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Grey-Son shot off and came back a moment later with a rectangle that looked like maybe it was a

brick, except it had colors on it.

"Here. A book."

A book.

He poked it. It was lighter than a brick.

And then Grey-Son did the most amazing thing. He opened the book. There were pages like the

flyers, but with no pictures and the pages had black marks all over them.

"It tells a story. But I guess if you can't read... I could teach you. Of course, we'll have to get some easier books to start." "Do they say 'come see the tigers'?" All the flyers said that, or 'come see the freaks.' "What? No, it's not about tigers at all. It's about men who sailed the seas in the seventeenth century. It's called fiction. It's a made-up story that people read for fun. There's lots of different topics, though. I can see if I can find one about tigers if you like. We could start off with me reading to you." He tilted his head, trying to understand, but he didn't. Couldn't. It didn't make sense. "Hmm... maybe we should start with TV." Grey-Son stood and held out his paw. "Come on. This is like the books, made-up stories, but you don't need to be able to read for them." Grey-Son was very strange. Very. But kind. Torao liked kind, so he took Grey-Son's paw and followed.

Grey-Son sat on the big, shaped pillow and pulled him down, too. Then the Man picked up a

plastic rectangle and pressed a button on it. Immediately, noise filled the room and the black box

against the wall got pictures in it.

He frowned, growled, and pushed closer to Grey-Son, protecting the Man.

He got a surprised look and Grey-son pressed some buttons on the plastic rectangle and the

pictures disappeared. "It wasn't real... just pictures." Grey-Son chuckled. "Maybe I'm going about this wrong. What did you used to do for fun in... the cages?" "Nap. There was a ball, a pool." He walked over to the box and touched it. "Pictures?"

Grey-Son nodded. "Yeah. See how it's flat? Okay, now don't be startled, I'm going to make them

come on again."

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The black box suddenly had moving pictures in it again.

He touched the box, looking closely. Lights.

Lights.

They made pictures with lights.

The noise slowly came back as Grey-Son pressed something on the little rectangle he held. "You

like it? Oh, here, let me find the sports channel. You can watch them playing with a ball. I can

get you one, too. To play with."

The pictures changed almost dizzyingly and then stopped, a bunch of Mans chasing a ball

around.

"A ball! Tigers?" Did the box make tiger-pictures?

"Um... Oh! The Discovery Channel might have something." The pictures changed fast again, and

when it stopped there were elephants. "Well, it's not tigers, but this is where they'd be."

Torao plopped down, staring at the pictures. Waiting.

Tigers were good at waiting.

He was good at waiting.

There were lots of elephants in the pictures and some Mans was talking about them and how

something called poachers were hunting them, killing them and taking their tusks.

Then all of a sudden there were tigers!

He growled and sat up, eyes huge. Tigers. Not white like him, but orange.

Yellow.

Pretty.

In the tall grasses outside.

Grey-Son laughed. "You like those? Here, I'll record it and then you can watch it as often as you

want."

"I like tigers." He did. Tigers were good.

"Yeah, I'll bet you do." Grey-Son came and sat next to him, hand on his knee. "I can buy you a

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ball to play with. Is there anything else you're interested in? I know I'm away most of the day,

but I have to work to pay for stuff, you know? I don't want you to be bored or unhappy."

He blinked, a cold feeling settling in his belly. "You... you work? Why?" He knew about what

people paid for. He knew working. Working meant fighting and whips and fire.

"Because I have to pay for the house and the food and stuff like the cable -- what makes the

pictures. Nothing is free, I'm afraid."

Oh.

He stood up, padding back to the guess-room where his human clothes were. Grey-Son had

washed them and put them in the wooden box he didn’t sleep on. He put them on, smoothing

them over his skin. He knew working. He would not have Grey-Son burn and hurt for him, for

his food.

He went back out, leaning down to nuzzle Grey-Son's cheeks. He would go and hunt. He would

find food for them.

Grey-Son nuzzled back, hands sliding over his clothes. "What are you doing?"

"I go now. Hunt." He patted Grey-Son gently. Grey-Son had no teeth, no claws.

"What? Hunt?" Grey-Son shook his head and stood. "You don't have to do that. You can't do

that. It's the city. You need to have money to buy things. That's why I work. So you and I can eat

and stuff. It's all right, though. I have a good job; I can afford to have another person to feed."

"I hunt. No burning. I know this." He could find food. His Mam told him how.

Grey-Son looked confused. "Burning? You mean cooking? You don't like my cooking? I... I

could serve your meat raw if you'd prefer."

Raw? He liked raw. He liked cooked. He liked food. His head tilted again. "I know working.

Working has fire and hurting. I will hunt for you."

"Oh. Oh, Torao, no." Grey-Son got that sad look and hugged him tight. "No. There's no fire or

hurting where I work. None at all, I promise."

"Working has fire." He knew working.

Grey-Son shook his head. "No. No it doesn't. Your working had fire. Almost all other working

has no fire, no burning." Grey-Son started stripping. "Look. Look at me. No burn marks, no cuts,

no hurting marks. See?"

Torao frowned, working that over and over in his head. He knew working, but Grey-Son's words

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had sense. He moved closer, searching for marks. There were some -- little ones -- and he

nudged a little old mark with his nose, looking up and questioning.

"I got that when I was eight. I fell off my bike. It happened a long time ago." Grey-Son pointed

to another one on his shoulder. "I fell out of a tree, too -- that one needed stitches, 'cause I landed

on a rock and it cut deep." Grey-Son grinned at him. "Most of my scars are from accidents when

I was having fun."

He crawled up, nudged the deep-stitches place, licked it. The skin was bumpy, odd.

Grey-Son hummed a little. "I can't feel where the scar itself is, but I can feel your tongue all

around it."

He took his own clothes off and brought Grey-Son's hands to his flanks. There were whip marks

there, many of them, like little lines.

The dark fingers stroked over his skin, Grey-Son bending and looking close. "These aren't from

doing fun things, are they?"

"Work." He knew working.

"I'm so sorry, T. Not all working is like that. Most isn't. We have laws, rules that say you can't do

that kind of thing." Grey-Son's fingers kept stroking, touching him gently as the dark eyes looked

into his own.

Torao purred, eyes fluttering closed as he lost himself in the petting.

Petting.

He knew petting now.

Grey-Son groaned. He knew that groan now, too, knew that it meant Grey-Son wanted to do the

good touching and licking, the kind that made him explode.

Soft lips brushed his own, Grey-Son's tongue sliding into his mouth for a moment as the petting

continued. He purred and arched into the petting, fingers rolling and rubbing against Grey-Son's

skin.

"You feel so good," whispered Grey-Son. For some reason, talking was always quiet when they

did the good touching, but he could make Grey-Son cry out loud.

Hot breath warmed his face, Grey-Son's lips sliding on his cheeks and over his jaw before

tickling his ear. He made an odd sound, his ear wanting to flick and move and not able to.

"Are you okay?" Grey-Son asked, stilling, fingers and lips warm where they rested on his skin.

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"Mmmhmm. O. K." He was. Very okay. Warm.

"Cool." Grey-Son grinned at him, teeth so white in the dark face. And then they kissed again,

Grey-Son's tongue back in his mouth, all wet and wriggly and making him feel very warm in his

belly.

He sort of forgot about work and burn and fire. Just wanted to feel. To touch.

Grey-Son's fingers found his nipples, tugging on them, twisting them a little, too, which should

have hurt, but didn't. It was sharp, but good. He bared his teeth, toes digging into the floor as he

pushed up toward Grey-Son's touch.

A sweet little hum sounded, Grey-Son's lips sliding down over his skin, headed toward one of his

nipples. Torao watched that mouth, body rippling, aching, pushing toward Grey-Son's lips. Grey-

son's mouth wrapped around his nipple, tongue flicking across the tip.

"Grey. Grey-Son. Grey-Son." Heat flooded him, hips bucking, shaft throbbing.

Grey-Son hummed, hands sliding around his hips, holding on to him. The sucking continued,

tugging on his nipple, which he could feel all the way to his toes.

"Morrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre." His eyes rolled and he grabbed for Grey-Son, trying not to fall.

"Yeah, more."

Grey-Son moved to the other nipple, licking and sucking it, teeth worrying it, bringing that sharp

goodness again.

He slumped to the ground, pulling Grey-Son with him. Grey-Son laughed, smiling at him before

attacking his nipple again. There were bites and licking and sucking, fingers crawling over his

skin.

It. He. It. Words and thoughts poured through him, Torao's heart throbbing and pounding, his

shaft leaking. That hot, magical mouth moved down his body. Oh, he knew this. Knew what Grey-Son was going to do. Grey-Son's tongue slid through his navel, circling and teasing, licking. "Want." Need. He arched up, hips pumping up, begging for Grey-Son's mouth.

"I know. I can smell you." Grey-Son smiled up at him again, face rubbing against his prick.

"G...good? Good?" He blinked down, wanting to be a good tiger. A wanted tiger.

"God, yes." Grey-Son nodded. "You make me hard, T. Make me want."

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Grey-Son lapped at the tip of his cock, groaning, and then wrapping those hot lips around him and sucking hard. He growled, paws batting the air, pleasure flooding him. "Love the sounds you make, T." Grey-Son's mouth left him only long enough to speak the words, and then his cock was sucked back into Grey-Son's mouth. "Love." He knew love. He did. He was just. More. Grey-Son moaned, the sound vibrating around his cock. Then Grey-Son's head moved up and down, Grey-Son's lips so tight on his skin. His entire body began to shudder, nails scratching along the floor, digging in grooves. Faster and faster, Grey-Son sucked on him, making the pleasure flow through him. When Grey-Son's hand pushed between his legs, he spread, and his balls were fondled, and then his hole stroked. Torao still didn't understand that touch, didn't understand the way it made him feel in his belly, in his legs. Then Grey-Son's mouth left his cock, moved down to lick at his balls and at his hole, the feelings suddenly so much bigger than when it was Grey-Son's finger. His mouth opened and closed, eyes feeling like they were going to pop out of his head. Grey-Son licked again and then looked up at him and smiled. "Good?" Grey-Son's tongue licked again before he could answer. "Grey. Grey-Son. Please." "Please more or please stop?" Greyson blew against his hole. "Please. Please. Morrrrrrrrrrrrrre." Hot. Hot. "Oh, I was hoping that was your answer." Grey-Son kissed his thigh and his balls again, and then Grey-Son's fingers tilted him and spread his ass open and Grey-Son's tongue. It. Oh, licked and licked and pushed inside him. Inside. Inside. Him. His roar echoed, seed shooting from him, surprising him. Grey-Son didn't stop, kept pushing his tongue in and out and in and out, making the feelings grow and grow, even though he'd come. His shaft stayed hard, slapping against his belly, over and over.

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Deeper and deeper Grey-Son's tongue seemed to go into him, and then one of Grey-Son's fingers

pushed in, too. And then another -- two fingers and that tongue. So big. So much.

He roared, thighs gone tight, eyes rolling in his head. And then it got bigger, Grey-Son touching

something inside him that just... exploded. Tossing and twisting, Torao whimpered, body

begging for something. Anything. More. Now.

Another finger pushed inside him, that explosion happening again and then again. "Do you want

more, Torao? I can make it even better."

He keened, thrashed, needing so badly it hurt.

Grey-Son moved over him. Something big and hot nudged at him. "Torao? Do you want, to?"

"Want." Need. Now. Please. "Grey-Son."

"Yes. Yes, T."

Grey-Son moaned and kissed him; something hot and hard and big pushing into him, spreading

him so very wide. His eyes went big and he panted, trying to breathe, to feel.

Soft kisses landed on his cheeks, his mouth, so different from the solid heat that impaled him.

"Easy, T. Just relax and it'll ease, be good. I won't hurt you."

"Big." It was. Big. Full. In. In him.

"Yeah. God, you're tight. Feels so good, T." Grey-Son whimpered, lips pressing hard against his,

teeth nipping gently.

Then Grey-Son moved inside him. Moved out and back in. There was nothing he could do but

feel, but try to breathe and move with Grey-Son. The moving continued, slow and smooth after

the first few times, Grey-Son's dark eyes looking into his. It started to change, to go from just big

to big and good.

Torao arched, purred with the sheer pleasure of it.

"Yeah, that's it." Grey-Son licked along his neck, always moving, pushing inside him and pulling

away again. He wanted the pushing inside, wanted it again and again.

Grey-Son gave him that, making it bigger and bigger. His sac drew up, his heart pounding in his

chest. He. Oh. Soon. Need. Grey-Son shifted, hand wrapping around his cock, and that spot

inside him exploded again, and again.

His roar this time ripped from him, loud and joyous and happy as he shot. Grey-Son roared, too,

heat pulsing inside him, and then Grey-Son collapsed on him, gasping and panting.

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Torao purred and cuddled, nuzzling in. Good. Good Man. Grey-Son's breath was hot on his skin, and Grey-Son made soft, happy sounds. Mans couldn't purr, but he thought those sounds meant the same thing, meant Grey-Son felt so big good. He petted and stroked, eyes dropping closed. Yes. Grey-Son slipped out of him, leaving him empty, but still feeling full, too. A soft kiss was put on his skin and Grey-Son nuzzled, whispered something he couldn't hear, and lay heavy against him. Heavy and good. A right feeling. A love feeling. *** Greyson had decided to take his vacation. He had nearly three weeks banked and planned to use it all. And he hoped that by the time it was over, he'd have figured out what to do about T. He didn't want to lose Torao, but he worried about leaving his lover here every day with nothing to do. And T was curious and soon wouldn't want to stay in the house or yard, was going to want to explore. Naive as T could be, Greyson didn't figure that was the best idea going. His biggest worry was that T would get caught out as his tiger self, and that he'd be nabbed by animal control, caged, and farmed out to a zoo -- or worse, a circus. Of course, so far all he'd done was enjoy his first two days off, a lot of it spent curled up with T in his nest, lying in the sun with his lover curled around him, fur soft, tiger body unbelievably warm, and purring, just vibrating against him. He petted T's belly, cheek rubbing. T felt so damned good. T chuffed, paws batting the air, claws going in and out and in. He grinned. God, he loved this, loved how T just enjoyed every moment, found pleasure in lying in the sun and petting. He reached out, rubbing the soft pads of T's paws, touching a claw. Hard and sharp, and T could do some major damage if he wanted to. So delicate, though. T traced the lines in his hand, tickling and touching. He turned the tables, digging his free hand into T's belly, finding the spots he'd discovered were ticklish. T roared, rolling on top of him and licking his jaw, those white and black stripes close enough to see every hair. He laughed, breathless with T's weight on him, loving the rasp of T's tongue over his skin. His hands dug into T's fur, rubbing the skin beneath with his fingertips. Then he searched to tickle again, loving that roar, the pleasure in it. T nuzzled him, muzzle on his chin, breath so hot, and his search was sidetracked, a low moan

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coming from him. He ran his fingers along T's flanks, the muscles beneath the fur so strong. T rippled, stretched for him, his enjoyment obvious. He rubbed his cheek along T's, the fur tickling, caressing. "Change for me," he murmured. T groaned and shifted, the air vibrating around him, leaving him with a warm, beautiful man in

his arms.

"That's so amazing." He slid his hands over T's skin, loving the silk of it, the way it felt different

from the softness of T’s fur. He brought their lips together, taking a long kiss.

Torao moaned softly, melted into him, cock hard and throbbing against him. His hands slid down

to T's ass, squeezing, encouraging T to move.

"Time. Time to love, mate?"

He nodded, loving the sound of that word. "Please. Mate." It was the first time he'd tried it out

himself. It felt right.

T purred, the light in those eyes shining out at him. "Mate."

"Yeah." He kissed T, tongue licking across the soft lips. "Will you make love to me?" He wanted

to feel T inside him, wanted T to feel that.

"Mmm. You will make yourself slick?" T's smile tasted so good.

"I can do that. I'll need the lube, though." He laughed. "I can't lick myself."

"Poor man." T's laughter made him ache inside, made him throb.

He rubbed noses with T and rolled them, kissing his lover hard. T wrapped around him, holding

tight and humping up, growling into his lips, eyes nearly glowing. He met T's movements, the

kiss deepening. He felt like he was glowing, too, it felt so good.

He finally broke away, lips tugging on T's lower lip before finally letting go. "Okay. I've got lube

in my bedroom. I'll be right back."

T growled and stalked him as he moved away, eyes fastened onto him. "Mate."

He smiled, padding a little quicker, loving the way T played. "Yeah, that's me." He wiggled his

ass as he got to his room, grabbing the lube off his headboard.

Bare skin slapped against him, T's teeth threatening his shoulder. Laughing, he leaned back

against T, head tilting, to offer his neck. "You caught me."

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"Mine." T growled and rubbed, teeth digging in enough for him to feel. T was hard, wet-tipped, rubbing his ass. Almost whimpering, he rubbed back, nodded. "Yeah, T." He'd been thinking he'd let T think he was caught and then take off, play chase, but after that? He just wanted T to fuck him, to prove it. T pushed him down, right there, covering his back. Those lean hips moved in a parody of fucking, rolling and thrusting against his thigh. He popped the top off the lube, getting his fingers slick and reaching back between them to shove two into himself. He grunted, the stretch burning, almost too much. He was in a hurry, though, T's need becoming his own. The sounds that T made were driving him crazy, deep and low, vibrating in his bones. He yanked his fingers out of his ass and tried to get his knees up under him. "Please. T. I'm ready. I need you." "Need." Need. Yes. That voice was full of need, T's prick lining up and pushing in deep, spreading him with no hesitation. He could feel every inch, every bit of T's cock as the burn spread through him. So good. He pushed his ass back, encouraging T to get in as far as he could go. T's teeth grabbed the nape of his neck, right under his hairline, holding him close as T took him, fucked him, claimed him. The burn soon morphed into pleasure, T's cock hitting his gland, making him jerk and cry out. He tried to hump back, to meet T's motions, but T had him, held him fast. Faster and faster T took him, growls coming low, sliding down his spine. "Mmmmmmate." "God, yes." He nodded, or tried to, fingers digging into the rug, his breath coming short and fast. He could feel each thrust in his balls, in his cock, his blood pounding in his veins. He could feel T's cock swell, fill him, spread him wider as T bucked, slamming into him violently. He got his hand wrapped around his prick, and all it took was that touch, his hips pressing back even harder as he came. Heat flooded him, right after, Torao's teeth sinking into his shoulder. He whimpered softly, panting and shivering, skin so sensitive. "T. Oh." T released him, lapping gently at the sore spot on his shoulder, sending electricity through him. He shuddered, his cock throbbing with each lick. He reached back, stroking whatever skin he could reach. "Love you," he murmured. "Lllove." T was purring, the sound satisfied. Happy. He smiled and pet T some more. "Yeah."

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He felt warm and sore in all the right places, T's body so good draped over him. T got heavier,

cuddling in, purrs threatening to become soft snores.

He pushed back a little. "T? Let's get to the bed before we start napping, 'kay?" The floor wasn't

the softest place to rest, especially with T's weight on top of him.

"Bed." T rolled off, dragging him unashamedly to the bed and plopping him down.

He laughed and curled into T's warmth. "Yeah. Bed."

Man, his three weeks' vacation was going to be up before he'd figured out what was the best way

to keep T happy.

Somehow, curled up with T, the smell of their lovemaking still in the air, the warmth of T's body

wrapped around him, he thought he'd figure it out.

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Chapter Three He was introducing T to the wonders of key lime pie -- trying not to laugh too hard at the way T couldn't decide whether to make a face at the sour or “mmm” over the sweet. It wasn't easy, though, T's nose wrinkling up. He took another spoonful, licking the spoon clean. He loved that mix of sweet and tart himself. "More?" he asked, holding another spoonful out. T nodded, leaned forward to lap the pie from the spoon. He chuckled and dipped his finger into the pie, licking it before dipping again and holding it out to T. But before T could wrap that tongue around his finger, the doorbell rang. "Who could that be?" T tilted his head, sniffed, then one hand wrapped around his wrist and pulled. "Yeah, yeah, I'll get it, T." He was wearing a bummy t-shirt and old sweats, but it was good enough to answer the door with. T growled, dropping to the floor and tugging him away from the door, toward the bedroom as the knocking grew louder. "T! What's the matter with you? The door's this way." He tugged his arm out of T's hold, frowning. Torao shimmered, the tiger appearing suddenly, teeth bared, snarling at him. He backed up fast, shocked -- T'd never been aggressive with him. Ever. And really, he was hurt at this sudden change, he didn’t understand it. "I have to get the door," he said, backing up fast down the hall, eyes on T's teeth, his paws. T disappeared without a sound, without a backward look, black and white pelt scrambling down the hall. Greyson started after him for a moment, totally confused as to what had just happened. The doorbell went again and he jumped, turning to go get it. Was that the first time T'd heard the bell? He couldn't remember it having gone before. Maybe it sounded like something bad from T's past. He was still trying to figure it out when he opened the door. "Good evening, sir." A man with slicked-down hair and a trimmed beard stood at the door, flyers in hand. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm looking for something I've lost and everyone here says that you are the one person in the neighborhood who might take in strays." "Strays?" He let his frown deepen. "I'm sorry, I don't know what you're talking about."

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"I own a small menagerie and freak show -- one of those little traveling things. One of the

animals escaped and I'm trying to find him." The flyer was pushed into his hand, a black and

white tiger on the front. "He appears to be quite tame, but he is a wild animal."

His heart started pounding, and he worked as hard as he could to keep the expression on his face

the same. "This isn't some stray cat -- this is a tiger."

God, how had T known?

No, don't think about T, this guy might see, might know. He fought the urge to turn and check to

make sure T was out of sight, or to close the door behind him, keep the inside of the house

hidden.

He shoved the flyer back at the guy. "I'm not stupid enough to go anywhere near a tiger."

"Are you sure? He's deceptively tame, used to people. He was bred in captivity, you know? He's

almost like a son to me."

A son? This man thought... Greyson took a deep breath. Just play it cool. Don't hit him. If this

guy guessed, if he knew, and he brought the cops back… Shit, Greyson had no idea what kind of

rights T had. He'd been born a tiger; he had no papers. Maybe, if Greyson had time to figure

something out -- but off the top of his head, playing it as if he had no clue what this guy was

talking about was the only thing to do.

"A tiger's still a tiger, man. I'm more of a dog person, anyway."

"Well, here's my number. I'll be in town until I find him, or his body. Please, if you hear

anything, give me a call."

"I will. I will. I hope he doesn't hurt anyone."

"For his sake, I do, too."

"Okay. Well." He waved the flyer. "I'll call if I hear anything, man." He started to close the door.

He saw the flash of a gun, the man’s eyes staring into the house as if looking for the slightest

hint. "You do that."

"I will." He shut the door and turned the lock as quietly as he could, fingers trembling. Shit. Shit.

He waited, though, to hear the man going down the steps.

The house felt ungodly still, almost echoing with the silence.

He prayed that Torao stayed wherever he was, just stayed out of sight or sound until the guy at

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the door was well and truly gone. He thought he heard steps moving away and he tiptoed over to

the window in the front room, peeking out to make sure the guy was really gone.

There was a white van, sitting across the street, a dark shape inside, just sitting. Watching.

He swallowed and stepped back. Damn it. He had to find T. Had to make sure his mate stayed

hidden, stayed safe.

He padded quickly back down the hall, in the direction he'd seen T go. "T?" he hissed. "Where

are you, Torao?"

Nothing.

Not a breath.

Not a growl.

Nothing.

Oh, God, he hoped T hadn't run.

He went to the back door, only half relieved to find it closed. It wasn't locked from the inside,

and T could have shifted long enough to deal with the doorknob.

Okay, okay. Think.

Where would T go?

He went back to check T's room, but it was empty. Just in case, he checked the closet, but he

wasn't surprised to find it T-free. A human would hide in a closet, but so often T's instincts were more animal than human. He was pretty sure that, scared and worried and angry as T had been, he wasn't thinking like a human at all. So where would a tiger go?

He thought back to the nature programs he'd recorded that T would watch over and over again.

Higher ground.

Shit, the roof. There was an access ladder on the back wall.

He opened the door quietly, trying to look casual as he went over to the table and chairs -- he had

to make sure the back of the place wasn't being watched before he went up. It seemed clear.

The trees were tall enough that they hid him and he climbed up, staying as close to the bricks and

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then as low to the shingles as he could. He could just see Torao, curled into a tight ball behind

the chimney.

Oh, God. He felt so bad. He should have paid more attention, should have made sure he knew

why T was behaving erratically. But should haves weren't going to get T down off the roof

unseen.

"T," he hissed, fingers drumming quietly on the shingles, trying to get his tiger's attention.

A low growl sounded, T's teeth flashing, eyes fastened on him.

"Sh." He put his finger in front of his lips. T had to be quiet; they both had to be quiet. He waved

T to come to him, but hunched so T would get the idea he had to stay low.

T moved slowly, inching toward him, nostrils flaring.

"Change," he hissed. T would be lower to the roof as a man. Not to mention the ladder would

prove to be a real problem for a tiger.

The tiger snorted, staring at him. Great. Time to get in stubborn mode.

"We have to go inside," he whispered. "It's not safe out here. Someone could see you and tell

him."

Torao crept closer, claws digging into the roof as he moved.

He reached out, fingers just reaching T's nose, stroking it softly. "I'm not going to hurt you, T.

You know that. Mates, yeah?"

T sniffed him, licked his fingers over and over.

"T? Please? We need to get inside. It's too open up here. Please. You need to change; you need to

come down with me."

He was getting used to the change. The sudden, scared, naked guy in his arms? Not so much.

Greyson held on tight, keeping them as low as possible. "It's okay. It's okay, T. I told him you

weren't here, that I hadn't seen you. But we have to go in now, okay? It's too open up here."

Please, they had to get inside, lock all the doors and stay away from the windows. Once he knew

T was safe, he'd try to figure out what the hell they were going to do.

"Is the Keeper gone?" T moved, crawling down the ladder with that amazing agility.

He wasn't sure what T's reaction would be to knowing that the man was still in a car out in front

of the house, so he didn't say anything, just followed T down and urged him into the house. They

could discuss it once they were inside.

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T stayed low to the floor, moving like the cat, slinking and staying away from the windows.

Although he hated seeing T so worried and upset, that was a good thing he was being so careful,

and Greyson locked the door, pulling all the curtains in the kitchen closed.

"Let me check the street and then we can talk." He was still whispering, still tiptoeing around as

he went to peek out the front window again.

The van was there, the man in the front seat talking on a cell phone.

It crossed his mind that maybe he should call the police. Tell them there was a strange van

outside, lurking. But if the guy spilled about T and the cops wanted to come in and check for

themselves...

He backed away, finding T in the hall, curled in a ball well out of the way of any windows.

"Let's go to your room," he suggested, going in first and pulling the shades.

Torao curled on the bed, staring at him. "We go now?"

"He's outside in a car. We can't go anywhere. I'm not even sure where we'd go."

"When dark. We go. To the trees."

"It doesn't get dark enough, T. There's street lights and stuff." How come the circus man wouldn't

go? What had he done to give them away? Greyson thought he'd been so clever. He'd been

thinking earlier they couldn't stay in the city, that it just didn't suit T. This only proved it. Torao sighed softly, nodded to him, and hopped off the bed, moving to hug him tight. The embrace felt like a goodbye. He held on tight, refusing to believe that's what this was. He'd figure it out. T needed him. And he needed T. They were mates. *** Torao shifted in the night, wearing the clothes Grey-Son gave him. The Keeper left in the metal

Car and it was time to go to the trees.

Grey-Son smelled scared, worried. His instinct was to go, follow the Keeper and kill him, protect

his mate. He wasn't sure how he'd follow the metal Car; they all smelled the same outside, but he

would try.

Somehow.

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Grey-Son groaned and moved on the bed, hand reaching out, looking for him on the bed. Torao

whimpered softly, heart hurting. Mate. His own Mate.

The dark eyes blinked open, looking black in the darkness of the night. "T?" Grey-Son half sat,

eyes finding him. "Torao? What's going on?"

He purred low, trying to soothe. He didn't know the words to say it, the way to make Grey-Son know. "Come back to bed," Grey-Son told him, arms opening to him. His Mate wanted him close.

"I go eat the Keeper. No more scare for the Mate." He cuddled in, rubbing and scenting Grey-

Son.

"What?" Grey-Son's arms went tight around him. "Oh, no. No, T. You can't do that. If you do that the police will come after you -- you'll be killed!" The Mans had so many rules. So many things you weren't allowed to do. "No scare the Mate. Bad Keeper." He licked and nuzzled.

"Yes, T. Very bad Keeper. He scared me because of what he could do to you, T. He could take

you away or hurt you. I don't want that." Grey-Son pushed into his touches. "He's a very bad

man, but if you eat him, you are the one who will be punished. They'll put you in a cage, T.

Maybe even shoot you."

"No cage. No more." He would die first. He would. "No cage."

"Then you have to forget about the Keeper. As soon as he's gone, we'll take the car and go out of

the city. Find someplace safe." Grey-Son's hands stroked him, petted him. "I don't want to see

you hurt, T. You deserve a good life."

He didn't understand. It was so hard, being Man. So hard. He whimpered, pushing into the touch.

"I love you, Torao. And I won't let you get killed. I won't."

Grey-Son's arms were so tight around him, holding him close, petting him over and over. "I

won't let you die or be hurt or caged. Mates take care of each other, right?"

"Yes. No scared for the Mate. Good for the Mate." He knew that.

Grey-Son cupped his cheeks and looked into his eyes. "You are good for me, T. You make me

happy. And I want you to be happy. I'm scared that won't happen. So you need to listen to me, to

trust that I'll take care of you."

Listen. He could listen. His ears were good. He nodded, licked.

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"Good. Good." Grey-Son's tongue licked his, then Grey-Son licked his lips. "We should check

and see if the van is still out there, see if it's safe to leave the house. Leave the city."

"Van?" Grey-Son knew so many words.

"The white car that the Keeper was sitting in across the street. You can stay here if you want; I'll

go and see if he's still there." The soft petting started up again, Grey-Son's hands soothing on his

skin.

"Not here. The Car goes away."

"How do you know that? And how did you know that it was him at the door in the first place?"

"Smell." He nuzzled in, scented Grey-Son again. "Grey-Son smells like Mate. Keeper smells like

Keeper. Torao smells like tiger."

"Oh." Grey-Son beamed at him for a moment and then rubbed their cheeks together. "Now Torao

smells like Grey-Son's mate."

Yes! He chuffed and nodded, purring loud. Yes. Just so.

Grey-Son laughed softly and pressed close to him, rubbing their cheeks again, arms wrapping

around him.

"We should go, then. Let me pack a bag and we'll get in the car and leave the city. Do it now, in

case he comes back."

"Leave? You leave, too?" He wanted that clear. He and Grey-Son were Mates. If he was not

going to eat the Keeper, they should go together.

Grey-Son nodded. "We'll pack some clothes and see if we can find a store with camping supplies tomorrow. I have two more weeks before I have to go back to work." Torao nodded, not completely sure what Grey-Son meant, but pleased with the happiness in those eyes.

Grey-Son pulled him closed and kissed him hard. "Everything's going to be all right, Torao."

"All rrrrrrrright." He purred, nodding. "Go, Grey-Son. We should go now."

"Yeah. I know." Grey-Son nodded and went to the other bedroom, tugging a big bag from his

closet and filling it with clothes.

He wandered over, watching. Mans and their things. It was... different.

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"Do you want to bring anything, T? Maybe one of the blankets from your bed? Oh, and can you get me my pillow, please?" "Blankets." He pounced on the bed and started throwing pillows.

"Just one, T. You don't use any, so we don't--" Grey-Son broke off as one of the pillows hit him

full in the face. Then Grey-Son took the pillow and hit him over the head with it.

He laughed, batting at the feathers as they poured over him.

"Oh, I love that sound, T. I'm going to fix it so I hear it more often." Grey-Son grabbed one of

the pillows that wasn’t empty of feathers, and then hurried away and came back a moment later

with a blanket from his nest, pushing them into the big bag.

Torao took the story from the bed, handed it to Grey-Son. Grey-Son talked him the story at night.

It was a story about a tiger.

Grey-Son smiled and added the story to the bag. "Okay, we just need stuff from the bathroom,

and we can go." Grey-Son looked at the band on his wrist. "Yeah, we should get out of here

now."

"It is good? Good to go?"

"Yeah, T. We're good to go." Grey-Son bit his lower lip, looking around. "Yeah, let's go. Wait. Is

he still gone?"

His nostrils flared, trying to scent the Keeper. "Gone. Gone, Mate."

"Okay, let's go." Grey-Son kept saying they would go, but so far they had not gone.

"Yes. Go." Mans were so odd.

Grey-Son nodded and took his hand, squeezing it. "Okay."

Then, finally, they moved to the front door, Grey-Son grabbing a ring with shining things

hanging on it. From there they went out a small door on the side and into the stinking room with

the metal Car and he growled, nose wrinkling. Stinky. Stinky.

Grey-Son froze. "Do you smell the Keeper?"

"No. Room smells bad." He sighed, looked at Grey-Son. "You don't smell?"

Grey-Son made a show of sniffing. "Um... a little?"

Grey-Son shrugged and tugged him over to the metal Car, opening the door for him.

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He crept over, peered in. It looked like a cage.

It did.

"It's okay, T. I'm a good driver." Grey-Son pushed him gently, trying to get him in.

"Not a cage?"

"What? The car? No, no, not a cage." Grey-Son walked around to the other side and got in from

there. "See? We sit here and close the door, put on our seatbelts and off we go." Grey-Son pulled

a belt down across his body.

"I. I." He growled and shook, but trusted. Grey-Son. Mate.

When he sat, Grey-Son pulled the same kind of belt across him. "Sorry -- it's mandatory. In case

we have an accident. But we won't because I'm a good driver."

Grey-Son patted his knee and gave him a smile. Then turned something by the wheel in front of

him and the Car roared.

Torao whimpered, cowering in the chair. Scared. Scared. Out. Out. Outoutoutoutout!

Grey-Son's hand slid over his leg again, squeezed. "It's all right, T. It's just the engine. It won't

seem so loud once we're out." Grey-Son pressed something near the top of the car and the wall in

front of them started lifting.

"Grey-Son!" His eyes rolled and he shifted, getting out of the belt and curling down on the floor and panting, hiding. Grey-Son's hand slid over him, petting him, letting him lick the fingers, the scent good, right, his Mate. "Okay, you stay there. You can't come up while you're the tiger; you have to stay out of sight." The roaring noise changed and the metal Cage-Car started to move. He growled back, face

hiding in Grey-Son's thigh.

"Would music help?" Grey-Son asked, and suddenly there was a drum beat and singing.

Oh. Singing. He vocalized along. He knew singing, it meant happy, it meant good.

"Yeah, that's it." Grey-Son moved in his seat, singing, too. Grey-Son sounded good singing.

Torao dozed off, watching, easing into sleep as the Car motion rocked him.

The sound of the Car changed, and that brought him back awake, the smells and sounds from

outside also changing. He rumbled, nose lifted to the air. Trees. He smelled trees.

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Grey-Son's hand moved on his head when he moved. "We're out of the city. You need to be a man, though, if you want to look out. Just in case." He nuzzled the touch, taking Grey-Son's hand so carefully in his mouth, loving his Mate. Grey-Son's fingers wriggled, tickling his tongue. "There's trees and fields. I think there's a motel coming up in a few minutes." Chuffing, he stretched over the seat, paws batting the air idly.

"Careful," Grey-Son murmured. "If someone sees you like that, we're in trouble."

His tongue lolled. His Mate worried and worried.

"What?" Grey-Son's fingers slid through his fur again. "If someone reports seeing a tiger, that

man is going to be all over it." Grey-Son's mouth moved and moved and he listened, purring and

grooming before curling into a ball in the floorboard.

"Oh! Motel Six. That'll do us. I need you to change now, T. You can stay in the car until I've

booked the room, but there might be people wandering about." The engine noises grew quieter,

the car slowing.

He frowned, tried to think of himself as a man, stretching and easing into it. It was easier now.

Better.

Grey-Son smiled at him and encouraged him to put the torn shirt he’d been wearing back on.

Silly Man coverings. Then Grey-Son leaned over and kissed him quickly. "It's going to be okay,

T. I promise."

"Okay. Mate. O. Kay." His Mate did not lie. His Mate knew the truth.

Grey-Son nodded, getting out of the car. "Wait here, I'll be back in a minute."

Waiting. He could do Waiting.

Mostly.

For a few minutes.

Look at the flashing lights...

He was starting to get bored when Grey-Son finally came back, waving one of those little metal

things. Getting back into the car, Grey-Son smiled. "We're in the last room. I figured it would be quieter. We can get a good night's sleep and then figure everything out in the morning."

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Oh. Sleeping. "I like sleeping."

Grey-Son laughed; he liked that sound, it was better than the worrying. "I know. You're good at

it. There's no sunbeam for you tonight, but we can probably make our own warmth, yeah?"

"Yes. We sleep together?" He didn't want to nap alone in this strange place with so many smells.

"Of course. I won't leave you alone." The Car roared again and then purred as it moved to the

end of the low building. He purred back, patting the Car. Good Car.

Grey-Son grinned at him and made the Car stop making noises and stop moving.

He got out, Grey-Son giving him the pants to wrap around his waist and going around to the

back of the car to pull out the bag. Then they went in the door that Grey-Son opened with the piece of metal he'd collected earlier. The room they went into was small and smelled of dust and mold and old air. His nose wrinkled and he paced. So many smells. So many.

Too many.

Grey-Son stopped him, eyes looking into his. "Hey, what's the matter?"

"Smells. So many people. So many." Couldn't Grey-Son smell?

"No, I don't think there's very many people staying here. Especially down at this end." Grey-Son

sniffed a few times. "Can you really smell all the other guests?"

Of course he could. There had been many, many people here, sleeping, mating, living.

"We'll try to find a solution quickly, T. So we don't have to stay here long." Grey-Son sniffed

again. "I just smell that it's musty. Come to bed. We'll put the blanket from home down, that will help, right?" "Home. Home." Torao nodded, nuzzling Grey-Son's hand. "Home. Home."

Grey-Son nodded and pulled the blanket and pillow out of the bag and threw them on one of the

two beds. "Our own nest, yeah?"

He nodded and pounced, bouncing in the center of the nest and holding his arms open for GreySon. Grey-Son laughed softly and pounced onto the bed as well, landing against him. His Mate was not so worried now, happier. "Better. Better." He pulled Grey-Son in tight, wrapping around.

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"Mmm. Does it smell like us yet?"

Torao's nose pushed into Grey-Son's throat, sniffing. "Smell like Mate."

"Good." Grey-Son's fingers slid over him, pushing at his clothes to touch his skin. He stretched,

tugging the clothes off and tossing them away before settling.

"Mmm. Your skin is so soft." Grey-Son leaned up and licked his neck. "You taste good, too."

He brought his paw up, licked it. He tasted like him.

Grey-Son laughed, and licked his paw as well, then his Mate held a paw out for him to lick. "My

turn."

Torao purred, licking and lapping at Grey-Son's paw.

Grey-Son jerked it back, laughing. "Tickles!"

Oh. Laughs. He liked laughs.

Torao did it again and again, nibbling at Grey-Son's skin, finding more and more laughs. Grey-

Son retaliated, fingers of his other paw digging into Torao's side, rubbing lightly along his ribs.

Oh!

Oh, tickles!

He chuffed and rolled, paws batting at Grey-Son.

The tickles and laughs continued until Grey-Son collapsed against him. "Stop! Stop! Oh, man,

my belly hurts."

No hurting. He leaned in, lips brushing Grey-Son's belly, licking and lapping at the warm skin.

"Oh... Oh, T. That's good." Grey-Son moaned softly, shifting, moving into his licks.

Torao could no more stop his happy sounds than he could stop pulling Grey-Son close, fingers

rolling and rubbing and tugging his Mate closer. Grey-Son moved against him, pushing into each

touch. And Grey-Son’s paws and mouth moved on him, too, sliding, making him feel good.

The more they touched, the more the room smelled of them, of sex, of mating, of good.

Much better. Much.

"I thought that guy was gonna see you," murmured Grey-Son. "I thought he was gonna take you

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away and hurt you again. He didn't want to believe me that I hadn't seen you." The words were spoken between kisses and licks, soft touches and hard. "You did see me. I will die before I go in the cage." He would kill. Grey-Son shivered and wrapped around him. "I won't let them have you. We'll find a way to be together and for you to be free." His Mate's kisses became hard, almost desperate. Oh. He growled, pushing back, wanting his mate to give him more. Taste him more. Grey-Son rolled him over onto his back, paws holding him down at Grey-Son's mouth moved on him, tongue tasting his skin, teeth testing it. "Mate." It was easy to ripple and rock, eyes rolling as his Mate loved him, drove him mad. "Yeah, and don't you forget it, T. Not gonna let anyone take you away. Not gonna let anyone else have you." Grey-Son's lips closed around the skin where his neck and his shoulder met, sucking, pulling the blood up. Marking him. Grey-Son's mark, on his skin. He stilled, shaking a bit as he stretched, allowing Grey-Son to mark him. Yes. Yes, more. Mate. Yours. Grey-Son moaned, lips sliding away from the mark, tongue playing with it a moment before Grey-Son's mouth slid over more skin, slowly working toward one of his nipples. Grey-Son tasted him there, over and over again. His cock throbbed, belly and balls tight, as heat flooded him. "Grey-Son. Grey-Son. Mate." "Uh-huh. Mates." Grey-Son nodded and nipped his skin, teeth sharp, but not breaking the skin. "Want you, T. Want to be inside you." "In. In. Touch, Mate. Please." He turned, hind end in the air. Offering what he would never offer another. Groaning, Grey-Son's fingers slid over his spine, and a bite was taken from his ass. Grey-Son licked it immediately, and then Grey-Son's tongue slid across his hole. Oh. Hot. Hot. Please. Mate. Sounds poured from him, deep and rough and hungry. He was hungry. That hot tongue pushed inside him, making him roar and push back, demanding more. Grey-Son gave it to him, tongue pushing in over and over again, making him wet, making him feel so good. When Grey-Son pulled away, cock pushing into him instead of that tongue, the pleasure was huge, filling him.

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"Oh, T." Grey-Son moaned, and began to push into him over and over, paws hard on his hips.

"So tight. So hot. Please."

"Mate." He bowed his back, begging Grey-Son for more, for marks.

"Mine," growled Grey-Son, leaning over him and biting his neck, breath hot on his skin.

"Yes." All of his muscles tightened, jerked, balls drawing tight.

Grey-Son's hips pushed against his buttocks, the hard shaft nudging that place inside him that

made everything become sparks. And Grey-Son's teeth dug into his neck.

Seed poured from him, marking the sheets, the blankets, his skin. The scent of them

overwhelmed Torao and he roared, shaking the walls.

"Oh God! T!" Grey-Son's cry was sweet, his Mate's seed hot as it filled him, marked him deep

inside.

Then Grey-Son collapsed on him, panting, fingers moving softly on his skin.

Oh.

Better.

So better.

Torao purred, nestling into the blankets.

Grey-Son stayed curled around him, heavy and good on his back.

"Sleep, love. We'll figure everything out tomorrow."

"To. More. Row."

Yes.

Sleep was good.

*** By the time they woke up, the urgency had dialed back some, but Greyson still wanted to get away from people. His instincts were telling him to take T and get themselves lost in the country. So he checked them out of the Motel Six in the morning and convinced T to give the car a

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chance as a man rather than the tiger. They picked up camping equipment at a little fishermen outfitter's shop and headed for the forest to camp. Leaving the car at a secluded parking lot amongst the trees, they moved into the forest, pack heavy on his back, T practically vibrating next to him. When they hadn't met anyone for an hour, he stopped and put a hand on T's shoulder. "Okay. You can change. Just make sure you stay out of sight if we come across anyone." T kissed him, eyes dancing, then he was face-to-face with an excited black and white tiger playing in the grasses. He laughed and watched for a few moments before deciding T had the right idea, and with a whoop he ran toward T. T leapt into the air, paws batting harmlessly, teeth gleaming as T grinned. God, T brought out the kid in him, and it was fun, just letting go and chasing, mock fighting, playing with T in the grass. And his lover, his mate? Torao was ecstatic, bounding and playing, chuffing and completely at home. And the solution was as simple as that. They'd find a place out here -- some land that backed up onto trees, a place where T could be himself, could play and roar and be safe from people. Okay, so there were probably a thousand little details to take care of, but he'd do a lot to keep T as happy as he was right now. The rough tongue slid on his arm, his fingers, distracting him. Tickling him. He laughed and pounced, landing on T and running his hands over the soft, white fur. That deep, rolling purr made him smile, satisfied him to the bone. He kept petting and then slid off T and took off, knowing T would give chase. The feel of T hitting his back was sort of like being hit by a train. A big, soft, fuzzy train. He went down with an oof, laughing and trying to catch his breath. T nipped his shoulder and then went bounding off, spooking a flock of birds and sending them flying. Breathless, but happy, he sat and watched T play. It felt good, to not worry for awhile, to just enjoy the happiness that poured from Torao. He eventually wandered over to where he'd left the backpack; this was as good a place as any to put up the tent. He'd do that and then have something to eat. They had sandwiches from the little restaurant they'd eaten breakfast in. It might have been an hour, maybe more before T wandered back toward him, panting and covered in grass and dust and flowers.

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He laughed at T and rubbed all that fur, getting rid of the worst of it. "Hey, do you like being brushed?" He supposed he could use T's hairbrush on his fur, too... T shivered, stretched way out. "Oh, that was a yes." He went through the bag, finally finding the brush at the bottom. He supposed if T the man didn't want T the tiger to share the brush, he could go buy a new one, but this would do for now, and would get the rest of the crap out of T's fur. He sat next to T and started sliding the brush through the fur on T's back. Torao's purrs were loud enough to make the leaves on the trees tremble. "Oh, man, you should have told me earlier you liked this." He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier, except that he'd never had a cat as a pet. He kept brushing, T's back and the long sides, getting all the vegetation and dust off and making T's coat just gleam. "You want me to do your belly, too?" T rolled with a thump, spreading out wide. He'd take that as another yes. He brushed a little gentler over T's belly, not wanting to hurt, his free hand following the brush, stroking the so soft fur of T's belly. "God, you're beautiful." T rippled, tongue lolling out. Beautiful and a little goofy. He kept brushing, noticing that T was starting to drool just a little. It had him chuckling. "So you like it out here, don't you, T?" He'd never seen the tiger as limp and drooling as T was now, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just the brushing; it was the whole package. T chuffed, nodded, paws rolling in the air. He nodded. Yeah. Moving out here was looking better and better. As long as the circus-freak show had moved on. He didn't like what he knew about T's "Keeper," and meeting the man hadn't made him like the guy any better. And nobody was going to hurt T, not while he was around. He knew that circuses had to move on -- would the Keeper give Torao up as lost? If they'd already moved on, he and T could move out here to the country and then just not be in town when the circus came back. He stopped brushing and stroked T's belly with both hands instead, concentrating on feeling good. T slowly changed, fur turning to soft, sleek skin. "Mate."

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He kept petting, well, stroking now, fingertips gliding over T's silky skin. "Yeah, mate." God, he did love the sound of that. It made him feel good. "Would you like to live out here?" "Live? Make home? Here?" Torao's eyes lit up, the man nodding and smiling. "Tigers like trees."

He laughed. "Yeah, I've noticed that." Then he nodded, looking around. "I don't mean this exact

spot, but somewhere out here where there's land and trees and a house."

"House and trees." T nodded, the look satisfied. "Yes. I find?"

"You find?" He frowned, not sure what T meant. They needed to look in the paper. Or call a real

estate agent. He'd have to sell his house in the city, too.

Torao nodded again. "I find house and trees for mate."

"Well it's not as easy as all that, T. We can't just choose the first house we come across. We need

to find one that's for sale."

T gave him one of those looks that said, 'men are strange' and 'I don't understand' and 'what?'

He chuckled and gave T a quick, hard kiss. "Okay, so say you find a house for us to live in. Well,

what about the people who already live there? They aren't going to leave just because we like the place. But if people want to move to a new house -- like we do -- they let everyone know their old place is going to be vacant. We need to find one of those houses." "I could eat them for you." Oh, that had him laughing. At least until he realized T was looking at him strangely. "Oh, you

can't do that, T. Eating people is against the law."

"Silly man law."

"Oh, I don't know. I find it kind of comforting knowing I won't be eaten..." He squeezed T,

sliding his fingers through the long hair. "But we can go get a paper tomorrow and see some houses maybe where the people are leaving. See if we find one we like?" T nodded. "Like. Like trees and home."

"Yeah, I know. What kind of house would you like? Big? Small? It'll have to be well off the

road."

He got a shrug. "No cage. Trees. Water. Movie box."

"You do like the television, don't you? And there won't be any cages, T. I promise." Never again.

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Torao rolled over to him, kissed him gently. "Promise."

He nodded, leaning in to kiss T again. "Yeah. Promise. No cages, no one hurting you. You get to

run and play and not have to worry about anyone seeing you as the tiger."

"You happy? Mate happy?" So dear. So honest, his Torao, always wanting him to be happy.

"Yeah, T. I am." He grinned because it was true. He was out in the woods with a tent that wasn't

going to survive a bit of wind or a rainstorm, they had something he had to re-hydrate for supper

and Power Bars, but he was happy.

"Good." Torao cuddled in, heedless of the grass, and promptly went to sleep.

Greyson laughed and relaxed, watching the clouds go past in the sky above the tops of the trees.

He liked how T thought, just living, enjoying life. You were happy or you weren't, and T wanted

to be happy.

Greyson did, too, and being with T made him happy. So he was going to make that work.

No matter what.

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Epilogue Birds.

Big, white birds.

He crouched in the tall grasses, muscles tense, eyes fastened on the flock that landed.

Birds.

SPROING.

He rolled in the grass, chuffing as the birds flew up, feathers going everywhere.

Birds birds birds.

Grey-Son had brought him to this place with grass and trees and birds, said this was home now.

Grey-Son was a good Mate.

Even if he spent too much time at the work that didn't burn or hurt.

Torao spent the afternoon patrolling the grounds, chasing bugs, marking his territory, and

exploring, before curling on the porch to nap in the sun.

Napping was good.

The sun was still in the sky but not as warm anymore when he heard the noise that meant the

metal Car was bringing Grey-Son back to him.

Torao leapt down to meet the Car, shaking his ruff and roaring in welcome.

Mate!

Mate!

The Car pulled up and the noise stopped, his Mate coming out of the car. Grey-Son looked tired,

but smiled at him, arms open.

He crouched and pounced, changing to a man right before he hit Grey-Son's body. Grey-Son's

arms went around him, catching him, and Grey-Son 'oofed' as his back hit the car.

"Hey, T. Did you have a good day?" But Grey-Son didn't let him answer the question, pressing

their mouths together.

He loved Kissing. Kiss. Sing. His tongue pushed against Grey-Son's, the heat sweet and perfect.

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Rich in his mouth. Grey-Son moaned, the sound adding to the texture of their kisses, the warm paws moving on his skin, warmer even than the sun. Torao rubbed and purred, the sound vibrating between them both. "God, I love coming home to you." Grey-Son grabbed his ass, squeezing, diving back into the kiss. "Work work work." He chuffed and moaned, wrapping himself around Grey-Son. "There were birds today." "Birds? Did you catch any?" Grey-Son pulled off his tie and opened the buttons of his shirt. "No. Just feathers." Grey-Son got cross when he killed the birds. Grey-Son chuckled, shirt coming right off, baring the pretty dark skin, the little nipples that were standing up for him. He chuffed and pounced again, pushing Grey-Son into the grass so he could nuzzle and lick and lap. Grey-Son didn't argue, just wrapped strong arms around him, stroked and petted him. At the place in the city, Grey-Son would have complained about people seeing, made them move inside, but here they were far away from anyone and he could be himself, and they could feel the sun on their skin without stupid clothes to get in the way. Moaning, Grey-Son arched and rubbed beneath him, offering him one nipple before pushing his head toward the other. He groaned, worrying the little bit of flesh with his teeth, luxuriating in his Grey-Son's laughter and moans. The hands moving on him grew tight, Grey-Son's cock hard inside his pants, rubbing against him. It was easy to tear the clothes away and roll them, their bodies rocking and slapping together under the late summer sun. First he was on top, and then Grey-Son, and then him again, their bodies rubbing, the kisses growing harder and deeper. The grass felt almost as good as the sun against his skin, but it was Grey-Son's skin that felt the best on his own. On one turn, he spun, tongue finding Grey-Son's prick and nuzzling it, tongue sliding along the shaft. "Yes! T!" He liked the note of need in Grey-Son's voice, the way Grey-Son's hips shifted restlessly. Then Grey-Son's hands tugged him, moved him a little, and Grey-Son's hot tongue touched his shaft, sharing the same pleasure with him. T purred, caught between the grass and the sunshine and the heat and his Mate. Happy. So happy.

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"Love that sound," murmured Grey-Son, prick pushing against his lips. "Makes me feel good." "Gooooood." He nodded, licking and sucking and groaning happily. Bittersalt drops leaked from Grey-Son's prick, strong on his tongue, and the heavy scent of GreySon's musk filled his nose. His Mate all around him. His Mate's mouth was around him, too, taking his balls into the hot wetness, licking them. His hips jerked, pushing deep and thrusting against Grey-Son, the heat perfect. Then Grey-Son's mouth moved beyond his balls, licking the skin behind them. Such a delicate touch. Sharp teeth, sudden and shocking, made him jerk and roar, but Grey-Son's tongue was back right away, soothing the unexpected scraping. Then that tongue flattened on his skin and dragged over his hole, making him need so much. His head snapped back, roar filling the air as he fought the urge to shift, to arch his hips and beg for more. Grey-Son's tongue pushed into him, hot and wet, so good as it stabbed him again and again. He rolled over, ass in the air, fingers digging into the grass as his hips pumped. "Mate." "Yes, T. Yes." Grey-Son's rolled up to kneel behind him, fingers spreading him, shaft hard and hot and pushing into him. Grey-Son's cock stretched him and spread him, pushing so deep into him. He snarled and purred, head dropping so his Mate could bite and hold on, hold him. Grey-Son's smooth, warm skin pressed against him as Grey-Son stretched out over him, mouth latching onto his neck. Grey-Son's lips sucked, pulling the blood up to the surface, marking him outside, just as he was being marked inside. He could see his hair pooling on the grass, black and white and... "Morrrrrrrrrrrrrre." "Yeah. Yeah, T. More." Grey-Son's tongue dragged over his skin, teeth scraping as the hard cock pushed into him over and over again. He shuddered and shook, stretching and spreading for his Mate, his friend. Inside him. He could feel the pressure and slide and push inside him. "Oh, God, T. Mate." Grey-Son's words whispered in his ear, and Grey-Son's teeth latched onto his neck. Yes, mating. Good. Good. He bucked and roared, body jerking violently as his seed poured onto the grass. Grey-Son called back to him, shaft jerking into him again and again until Grey-Son roared, pretty loud for a Mans, and filled him with heat, marking him deep inside.

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"Mmm. Mate." He plopped down onto the ground, panting and purring happily.

Grey-Son was a good weight on top of him, warm and solid, nice and close. "Love you, Mate,"

Grey-Son murmured, nibbling at his skin.

"Love." His eyes closed, fingers sliding through the grass. "Good love."

"You said it." Grey-Son's end of day whiskers scratched nicely against his shoulder blade as the

heat inside him slipped away.

"So you had a good day? You're still happy here?" The dark eyes looked into his own as Grey-

Son settled next to him.

"Good lair. Birds and grass and sun and sky." He rolled on his back and stretched.

Grey-Son's fingers slid over his belly, stroking gently. "And no one around to see you and call

the cops. Or the circus." His nipple was kissed. "It's safe here."

He nodded. "You, Mate? You have happy here?"

Grey-Son looked up at him, and smiled. "Yeah, Torao. I have happy here. A lot of happy."

"Good." He would not wish to have an unhappy Mate. Never.

Grey-Son nodded and then made a face. "Except for the grass going up my butt. Let's go inside

and have a shower."

Shower? He could bathe Grey-Son just as well! He shifted as he rolled, tongue dragging on

Grey-Son's skin. Salty.

Grey-Son laughed and dug strong fingers into his ruff, petting and rubbing. "That's not quite

what I had in mind, T."

Silly Man. Tiger baths were amazing.

Just like tiger mates.

And tiger pounces.

And tigers.

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Alpha by BA Tortuga The ground felt good under his paws, solid and firm, just a little damp, just a little cool. Autumn was coming, Cage could smell it in the air, sharp as a knife where the winds cut through the trees. He was getting tired; slowly but surely the moon had stopped calling and the extra energy had

started to fade, the urge to run and run and hunt easing as he neared home.

A hare crossed his path, right before he turned toward the den, and his nose twitched.

Oh.

Yum.

His direction shifted, motions quiet and sure, nose on the ground as he tracked.

So intent was he on his trail that he missed the big black blur that came at him until the last

minute, when it hit him and sent him rolling over and over. Heavy snarls filled the air as his

attacker went for his throat.

No. No. His den.

Instinct took over, teeth flashing as he fought to find his feet, to defend his territory with all he

was, fur to bone.

The Other was bigger, maybe stronger, pushing at him, teeth snapping only inches from his

throat. The ground churned beneath their paws as they fought, back and forth.

He managed a sharp bite to one ear, another to the big male's flank as he tried to keep his throat,

his ruff away from those teeth. The ground beneath their feet gave way and he jumped back,

landing hard and snapping his teeth in the air in a direct challenge.

Mine.

MINE.

The Other came in again, answering him with bared teeth and wild golden eyes, pushing him

hard, going for his vulnerable lower back legs.

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Cage ended up scrambling for higher ground, claws scraping on the stone and bark left exposed

on the ground. He could taste blood, sharp and metallic on his tongue, and it tasted like prey.

Bounding after him, the Other seemed tireless, seemed to grow larger, the ruff standing up

around his neck. That tail had to be twice as full as Cage's.

A pure fury filled him, sure as the sunlight that was lightening the sky. Hold on. Hold on. The

sun was coming and he wouldn't lose his home. He wouldn't.

They circled, both of them growling and bristling. The Other leapt at him again, almost catching

him, just missing.

He dropped low, snarling and trying for the Other's paws, anything to slow things down, to give

him time.

He missed by inches, the Other leaping back, then bounding for higher ground, toward the sun.

Damn it.

Cage took the risk, running toward his den as fast as his legs would carry him. The shift still left

him confused and weak, vulnerable.

He skidded to a stop a foot short, the Other right there in front of him, snarling, teeth bright in

the rising light.

Without stopping to even think, Cage lunged, teeth bared as he howled out his fury, his

frustration.

He thudded hard to his very human back just as the sun crested the rise, hitting them fully. The

Other had thrown him without breaking the skin, snarling loud. The sound cut off, though, midstream, becoming more of a... grunt.

Oh.

Ow.

Shit.

Man, come on. You can stand up. You can.

Really.

"Fuck..." Now that? Was so not a wolf sound.

Cage rolled up on hands and knees, blinking down at his hands, the torn nails, the mud. Yeah.

Okay. See? Changed.

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Good dog.

The Other was bigger as a man, too, wide shoulders and muscled arms braced as the guy looked

at him, dark brown eyes wide. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

"This... this is my place."

"Yours... how long? How fucking long have you been in my den, you fucking pup?"

"Your den? I won it in a challenge, fair and square." He had the scars to prove it, the big gray

had almost killed him, but he'd done it and he wasn't leaving. "Get the fuck out of my way."

"Jesus. It's been mine for years. What the hell?" The guy stood, unsteady, blood streaking the left

side of his ribs.

He scrambled to his feet, breath coming in quick pants. It wasn't his problem. It wasn't. His bed

was in there, waiting for him.

Those big hands clenched into fists, the hair-covered chest filling with air as the guy breathed

deep, preparing for the next round, maybe.

Man, he needed a big rock. Not that he could pick it up to throw it right this second, but a big

rock was better than no rock at all.

The guy staggered, growling low and ugly. "I'm fucking tired. I'm going in there to sleep. You

can come or not. But don't fuck with me, Pup."

"It's mine." He wasn't giving it up. He wasn't. "Find your own place."

"This is my place. You really want to go again?" The man could loom. That was for sure. He was

all cut muscles and heavy brows and hot brown eyes.

No. No, he really didn't, but he would. This place was his.

Cage launched himself toward the door, praying for the element of surprise to work, just this

once.

It didn't. He collided with that heavy form, the smack making both of them grunt, the momentum

forcing them to the ground. Luckily, he landed on top.

"Find your own place." He scrambled for the door, something in his shoulder popping as he

muscled it open.

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"No! Goddamn it." They tumbled again, the door swinging crazily behind them as they rolled across the kitchen floor. "I left this place with a friend. What the fuck did you do to him, you little prick?" They landed, the big guy on top this time, straddling him. He covered the urge to whimper with a snarl, both hands pummeling at whatever bit of hard,

hairy body he could reach.

They fought until he was exhausted, until he could feel blood running down his hands from

scratches he'd left. The body pinning him down got heavier, the fight weighing both their limbs. There wasn't a fucking inch of him that wasn't screaming, wasn't begging for his bed, for a long few days of sleep and healing and dreaming. Things got a little swimmy, his eyes crossing as he fought to urge to sink under. One hand finally closed around his throat. "You can stay, you don't try anything. Got it? I need to rest..."

"This is my den." He gasped, snapped as he fought. "F... fair and..."

Moon and stars, he was tired.

Fading.

"We'll fight about it later," the guy said, hauling him up off the floor so his feet dangled a little.

"Now we rest."

He didn't even have enough left to argue, so he sorta... hung there and blinked. Then he was in his bed, the smells comforting and right. His bed. His home. The Other slid in next to him, heavy and warm, smelling wrong and odd and yet familiar. Like the scent that had lingered when he first moved in. Finally he just snuggled in, let the black and quiet pour over him, the heat around him defying the threat of autumn in the air. *** The light shone brightly when Roman woke, and damned if he wasn't starving. Really. His belly felt concave. He needed food, and he hoped to hell the little wolf cub had some. The cub. Lord. Roman rose up on one elbow and looked down, one hand settling in a disturbingly proprietary way on the kid's hip. This one had fight. Grit. It amused and astounded him.

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He stared at the kid, really looking, noting smears of blood he'd left. Looking for anything else that might tell him a tale. Compact, but not small, covered in a rough pattern of scars and bites that proved the cub was a scrapper. The kid didn't smell of a pack, didn't look starved, smelled strongly of male and musk and blood. His stomach rumbled and Roman grinned. He could eat the kid alive, but not that way. Really. Sighing, he rolled to his back and stretched, pondering eggs. Surely there had to be eggs. A sharp yip sounded and the kid vaulted out of the bed, looking like someone'd just rung his bell, eyes wide as saucers. "I. Uh. Fuck. Who." "The guy who kicked your ass last night. You got any eggs?" He'd best start out like he could hold out. He needed to eat, but he'd slept hard enough to save some energy if he needed to fight. "Fuck you." The words would be more threatening if the kid wasn't swaying so bad. He could remember that, when the change was still fairly new and it took it out of you, made you weak as all fuck. Made you disoriented too, and Roman took advantage of it, slipping out of the bed and prowling, pacing. "That'll come. Or the other way around, at least. But now I want food." "People... people in Hell want ice water." The cub's nostrils flared, curious to learn him. "I know. Trust me. I've been there." Hell had to look a lot like Death Valley at midday. "Come on, kid, I know you have to be starving." The cub nodded, still blinking. "You made me lose my hare." Then he got a look at the tight, sweet little ass as the cub padded toward the tiny little kitchen. Hell, he had to admit the cub was taking care of shit, the cabin neat as a pin. "How was I to know you were living in my house?" Little fuck. He followed, his own nose twitching as he breathed in deep, getting a good taste of the kid's scent. Yum. "It's mine. I earned it." Oh, that was a growl, there. "You earned it from a coward who gave it up when he was charged with protecting it for me. I fucking built this place, from the crooked edge of the foundation on the north side to the not quite plumb wall in the guest room." Let that stew a minute. He could do his own growl. "If you're fucking stupid enough to leave it with a coward, that's not my problem." The kid had a cast iron skillet in hand now and Roman'd be damned if the little shit didn't look like he could use it.

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Roman muscled in, pressing the kid back against the counter, holding him there. "Well, I'm back now, aren't I?" That upper lip curled, the growl sharp and sure. "And you can turn around and leave the same way." "Nope. Mine. And since you're here..." He cupped one hand behind the kid's neck, leaning down. "What's your name?" "Cage." All the kid's muscles went tight, fighting him, pushing against him. It was the scruff thing that was making the kid all rumbly, but he had to, to prove dominance. "I'm Roman," he said, bending more and pressing his lips to the pulse beating hard at the base of Cage's throat. "And you're mine now, too." "No." Pheromones poured between them, the air flooded with them both. God, yes. Cage smelled like... home. It was crazy. They'd fight. The kid would see to that. But damn. Roman growled low, licking. "Yes." The pan clattered to the floor, the kid's hands landing on his shoulders with a slap, muscles bunching. "No." If the no meant no, the pan would have hit his head. Smiling, Roman pressed the advantage, rubbing his cock against the tight belly, biting a little. "I think we can work this out, Cage." "I don't..." Oh, right. Cage didn't, with that pretty cock curving up to rub against his thigh, belly tight and hot against him. "Don't think. This can be easy. We can be pack..." That hit him hard and sudden, the need to make that. He'd been wandering too long. Lone wolf. He'd wanted to come home to Johnny. Why not Cage? "I." The kid slipped out from under him, leaving a strip of skin, he'd bet. Those eyes were wild, a bright sharp blue that just screamed confusion. "Who are you?" "I told you. My name's Roman. Roman Elias. This is my place. My den. It has been for a long time." He wanted to lick the sore spot Cage was fidgeting against, wanted to soothe. "I bet it smells like me still. I bet that's why you could sleep with me." He got another one of those unconscious nods. "I didn't steal it. I won." One hand traced down the tanned belly, the scars there deep, ropy. He lowered his voice, letting it come out as a rumble, a sound cubs heard from birth. "I bet. You're good, Cage. You're tough. But there's safety in numbers."

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He could see it, see how that sound hit Cage and settled him, made the kid tilt his head and swallow and stare. "Yeah. Just like that." Roman moved close again, his hand smoothing down Cage's shoulder and arm. "Let's just eat, yeah? Not think a minute. Just relax." "I..." Cage sniffed, sniffed again, belly rumbling. "I have bacon. Good and thick. I traded for it." "Then you make bacon, and I'll make the most amazing eggs you've ever had. Fried or scrambled?" "I like scrambled." Those blue eyes searched his, so off-kilter he almost laughed. Almost, because sure as shit that would piss the kid right off. His lips didn't even manage to twitch. "Cool. I like them scrambled well." He met Cage's eyes with his, holding them, sure and steady. "It's okay." "Okay." The way the kid licked those lips made him want to howl. He held it in, held off on the urge to grab his cock and stroke, too. "Bacon, hon." "Yeah, it's in the fridge." Again he got tempted with that ass, this time with a bright red scratch on the top from the edge of the cabinet. Bacon and eggs and milk were pulled from the old fridge, the kid pouring a huge glass of milk and gulping it down before pouring another. "You want one?" "Yeah." Hell, yes. He could smell what it would do for him, all of that good shit like carbs and vitamins and just comfort. He got a glass filled to the brim, the kid still twitchy, not shaking, focusing on the food and the milk. He could see all the little things that had changed. Things fixed up a little here, chewed a little there. Literally chewed in some places. Lord, the kid must have been going through a chewing stage in wolf... Roman sipped his milk and watched. The bacon would take longer than the eggs. "What are you looking at?" "You're all scraped up. We should take a shower after breakfast, get patched up." The eggs cracked easily into the little clay bowl Cage handed him, and Roman concentrated on that, knowing when to back off. He'd nip and growl some more when Cage got cocky. Cage didn't answer, just dug out bread and a slab of butter, slathering the butter on thick white slices and shoving it in the oven, sort of grunting and muttering to himself.

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Okay, maybe he needed to get the kid sorted out now. Setting the eggs aside, Roman pounced, covering the kid's ass and back with his body, his teeth sinking into the back of that vulnerable neck. The cub yelped, hands scrabbling on the counter, body arching underneath him, trying to throw him off. Roman just went almost boneless, putting all of his considerable weight behind his teeth, pressing down. He could feel the panic, the fight as Cage panted and struggled, even as that compact body sank to the ground. Smart cub. So smart. Roman went after him, covering him, just pressing down all the way to the floor. He knew the kid needed total submission to understand, to really know. Breath coming quick and harsh, Cage finally stilled under him, just the softest noises filling the air. "Shhhh." He bit down gently before moving back to turn Cage to his back. He nuzzled the throat, then the belly, and then the soft, fuzzy balls, Cage shivering under him but holding still. "Good. That's good." He got a quiet little sound -- not quite a moan, not quite a whine. The cub's scent was hot, strong, male, and promising. The only thing that might burn was the bread, so Roman covered Cage with his body again, rubbing back and forth, their cocks pressing. His whole body rocked at the feel, involuntary but so, so right. All those muscles bunched, arching beneath him and rubbing back. Cage's lips parted on a growl, eyes rolling and wild. Roman bit down against the skin of Cage's throat, feeling it nearly split beneath his teeth, licking it to soothe after. He just kept rubbing, needing so bad. Cage's cock started leaking, leaving wet lines on his belly, his prick, this new scent filling his nose and making his lip curl. His mouth watered, making him reach between them and pull at both their cocks, rubbing his own pre-come into Cage's skin, too, pushing them back and forth. Cage pushed up, long tongue sliding over his shoulder, tasting him, licking at him as Cage humped up into his hand. He growled. So long. Too long. Grunting, he smacked down against Cage, biting, licking, snarling his fucking joy. His teeth scraped along Cage's throat, the thin skin catching, the salty taste filling his mouth. Heat sprayed over his hand, Cage howling with it, the sound almost surprised. There. Right there. Roman came so hard he saw stars, his head snapping up and back, his vision filled with nothing but Cage and the look on the cub's damned face... His hands were busy, even as he came floating down, rubbing his scent into Cage's skin. Marking the cub. Claiming. His. So his.

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They rested a long while, until Cage shifted under him, a short, sharp bark telling him how uncomfortable the floor was. He finally let Cage up, holding him just long enough to make sure the cub knew it was his choice. Then they were both up. "How about those eggs?" The growl of Cage's belly was answer enough. *** Cage paced from bathroom to bedroom, heart pounding, head just whirling. Okay. Okay. Was he supposed to leave now? Beat Roman with a shovel? Pounce on the sorry son of a bitch and fuck him?

Shit.

He'd thought this place was far enough away from everything that he could just stay here, hide.

Live. Not fight all the fucking time.

Cage growled, heading for the door. He needed to run, to move, to think.

He almost ran smack into Roman, who was coming back in, wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt

that showed off every muscle. "Hey, Cub. Going out?"

Yes. No. Shit, if he left, was he fucked? What were the goddamned rules?

"Not a cub."

"Uh huh." Those eyes were dark brown and had crinkles at the corners as Roman smiled at him.

"Well, don't get lost. I've got steaks to cook."

"This is my home. I won't get lost." Steaks. Uhn. God, he was still hungry.

"So, how did you manage to beat Johnny, anyway?" That big body brushed his as Roman went

by, hauling a couple of sacks.

"We met. We had a fight. That was that." Sort of. Basically. With a lot of details left out.

"Yeah? You'll have to tell me all sometime... You like potatoes?" It was surreal, how this guy

acted like this was all normal and shit.

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"Yeah..." He frowned, just blinking. "Cool. I'll toss some of them in, too." Was that a laugh? Was that bastard laughing at him? It raised his hackles, made him growl under his breath, heading straight for the door. He landed hard enough that the whole house shook, Roman's full weight on his back, his breath whooshing out as Roman pushed him down. "Don't you growl at me, Cub." "Not a fucking cub." That would have been more impressive if he could breathe. Heavy bastard. "Then stop acting like one. Be civil, you hear?" A hard bite hit the back of his neck, Roman shaking his scruff a little before getting up off him. He bared his teeth, swung his legs around hard enough to tug Roman's right out from under, the big man slamming onto the floor. "Watch your fucking tone while you're in my house." A low snarl was his only warning as Roman leapt up and came at him like a flash of lightning. Damn. Jesus, the man was fucking fast. Cage rolled, faking a dart to the left before heading right, sliding to a more defensible position by the door. One hand swiped his leg, leaving a terrible sting. They both turned, both prowled back into fighting stances. His toes curled, fingers wanting to be claws, a howl wanting to push out and tell everyone -everyone -- that this was his house. Lips pulling back from his teeth, Roman came at him again, weight pushing at him, teeth snapping at him. He dropped low, pushing through, trying to get Roman off balance. The scent of them together was distracting, made him confused, dizzy. The feel of Roman's mouth smacking against his made it worse. When Roman pushed in with his tongue, it all went to hell, his whole body just betraying him. Their chests slapped together, nails dragging along backs and arms and chests as they growled and moaned and tried to eat each other alive. Roman rolled, putting him on the bottom and humping against him, hips moving hard and fast as the kiss grew teeth and drew blood. His fingers tangled in the thick, dark hair, and if he couldn't figure out whether he was pulling toward or away? He could live with that. They rubbed, their clothes seeming wrong, harsh against his skin. Roman moaned for him, bit his throat. The bites made him wild, made him growl and snarl and bite back and whine. Rearing back, Roman ripped at his shirt, tossing it aside. Then he got more of those maddening bites, on his shoulder, just over his nipple, right above one hipbone. His skin was on fire, burning and aching, cock leaking and hard in his pants. Growling, Roman opened his pants, fingers hard and callused, pulling at him. The sounds were just... amazing. Eyes rolling, he arched, legs scrabbling for purchase on the wood floor. Oh. More. More. Now.

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"More," Roman echoed out loud. They moved, a predatory dance that just rocked his world. Roman bit him again, hanging on like a fucking pit bull, his shoulder throbbing. He rolled, trying to get on top, trying to get more. Fuck if that big bastard didn't push him back down so hard he saw stars. But he got what he wanted, Roman covering him, their cocks rubbing as the man opened his own jeans and got them both in one hand. "Uhn." His hands opened and closed, balls going tight as stones. Yes. Yes. He needed. "Uh-huh. Fuck. You smell good... Jesus, Babe." They'd take up the issue of the man and his pet names later. Now they could just come together and apart with sharp jerks of their hips. "Want. Want." He wrapped one hand around Roman's hip, moving them faster. "Yeah. Now. God, come on." Roman tugged hard, moved harder, and bit even damned harder, a bruise blooming under his skin. He jerked and shot, eyes rolling, heat spraying between them, his nerves just singing. Not two seconds later Roman came on him, heat sliding across his belly, wet and good. Their scent. Oh, God. They rubbed together, his mouth watering, cock trying to jerk and come back to life again. "Mmm. Fuck, yes. Needed that." Not that Roman stopped moving. The man slid and slipped on him, their come rubbing in. He leaned up, lips finding Roman's throat, tongue sliding on the skin. Good. Now it was Roman's turn to "uhn," the sound vibrating against Cage's tongue. "Gonna get me going again." This was a bad thing? He nuzzled in, rumbling as the scent of Roman filled his nose, the flavor filled his mouth. Hot. So hot. Roman pushed him a little, detaching his lips from that throat and pushing him more toward the chest. Yeah, the man wouldn't want him at the throat or belly. He bit one collarbone, just to let Roman know that he wasn't just going to submit. He wouldn't. His home. He got a chuckle, Roman's hands sliding on his skin, soothing him like a pup. It worked, though, making his eyes half close as Roman scratched at his back. Oh. He groaned and stre-e-e-e-e-etched, the sensation as right as hunting. A low, rumbly, totally inhuman sound made him want to whine, made him want to curl in and beg. Or toss Roman down and fuck him. Cage bared his teeth, lips rubbing over Roman's skin, needing that flavor, that scent.

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"Careful, Cub." Roman yanked him up for a kiss that sent him spinning, sharp teeth cutting into lips. He wasn't sure whose blood it was that he tasted. He pushed, shoving hard enough to roll them, landing on Roman with a thud. Roman grunted, feet and hands scrabbling, teeth bared. "Fuck, Cub. What the hell..." He straddled the thick thighs, pushed right into the kiss, tongue forcing Roman's lips open. Not. A. Cub. Whether it was surprise or Roman humoring him it didn't matter, because that hot mouth opened to his, letting him in to taste and feel. Yeah, the man was up for another round. Seriously up. It eased him and he rubbed, exploring the sharp teeth with his tongue, finding out the soft spots, the smooth spots. Roman grabbed his ass, hands hard and rough, digging in. Pulling him into a rhythm. He growled out his pleasure into Roman's mouth, hands dragging along Roman's ribs. Good. Smelled good. They smelled right together. There was something about Roman's scent, something in how it mixed with his that made him crazy. The way Roman buried his nose in Cage's throat and breathed hard once the kiss broke told Cage he wasn't the only one who thought so. "Mmm..." He nuzzled Roman's temple, tongue slipping out to taste, to explore. Bead of sweat ran under his mouth, Roman groaning against his skin, licking him in return. That rough tongue had goosebumps rising. He couldn't help his sounds, the low rumbles and soft growls that just built inside him. Good. Good. They rolled again, suddenly, his back clunking against the floor. Roman rumbled, biting at his shoulder, hips rolling against him. Damn it. He rolled up, trying to get a place to bite himself, to make Roman feel. They rocked back and forth, grunting and pushing each other to the limit, all snarls and teeth. Fuck, it was amazing. His cock was full, aching, leaking everywhere it slid against Roman's skin. Roman pulled him up with a hand on the small of his back. They rubbed and rubbed like a pair in heat, licking and biting until one or other of them was gonna just explode, he was sure. He wasn't sure which of them shot first, which of them bit deep and which of them scratched. He just tumbled, all heat and teeth and claws and good. They lay panting together, Roman licking his throat with long, rough strokes. "Better, Cub." "Not a cub." He hummed, throat working. "No. Not a cub. Mine, though." So sure, so solid.

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He rumbled, but his chin lifted, letting Roman have more.

"Mmmhmm. God." At least Roman sounded like he couldn't quite believe it, either, even if those

touches never faltered, Roman's mouth working.

"I..." Okay. For now. It felt so right. Asshole.

Later they could work out who was gonna win this pissing contest. After. When he could think.

For now he'd just feel. *** Well, the kid had stopped pacing a little. Had stopped vibrating and sniffing the air. They'd managed two days in a kind of peace. Roman was getting a little... prowly himself, though.

Feeling the need to run.

He just didn't know if he could, at least not doing it and having the kid go nuts again when he got

back, ruining the work he'd done.

"Hey, Cub," he finally said, walking up and squeezing the kid's ass as he looked in the fridge.

"Wanna go out?"

"Out? Where?" The kid was a housebody, working hard on the knives and tools that he traded.

"Out for a run. Hell, we can take food. Come on, let's just go." No one would come while they

were exploring.

"Okay." He got a quick grin, the sudden look all cub and curiosity and need to go and play.

"Cool. We should take some food just in case we suck at getting something, but we won't need

water. I know where all the springs are." He'd bet anything Cage didn't. He probably stayed in

until he had to get out.

"I can hunt." The cub packed a few things, though, starting to bounce, to twitch, nose wiggling.

"Good. Come on." He clapped the kid on the back, heading out, grinning huge as he stretched his

arms and back.

Cage followed, moving quick and heading straight for the trees, herding him a little.

Oh no. No way. Roman immediately broke the other direction. The kid had to understand. He

wasn't gonna be out-alpha'd. That got him a growl, the cub following close behind.

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Grinning, Roman pushed the speed, really racing now, stretching out his legs. And cussing the limitations of human bodies. He was surprised as Cage kept up, short legs moving faster, covering the ground. Hell, the kid pushed him, prodding him, and if he'd been a deer or something he'd bet the damned cub would've been snapping at his ankles. They hit the rocky slope that led up from his little valley then, and Roman scrambled, knowing every damned hole and stone. The cub could hunt, could follow him without even seeming to think, so fucking focused. Pure exhilaration. That what it felt like to have someone so good with him. His heart raced and he all but howled, changing direction abruptly, heading across the scree toward the first spring. Cage followed, sounds less and less human, more feral as they moved. Yeah. Come on, Cub, he thought. Show me what you can do. He leaped over a fallen tree, landing hard and jolting himself before picking up the pace. Cage landed on his heels, close enough to smell. Yes. Hell. He was actually torn for a minute between moving on and turning and throwing the cub down right there on the ground. God. Then the smell of fresh, clear water overtook him, and that was that. The spring, then. The cub stopped, sniffed, a pure, happy bark sounding. Roman barked right back, taking the last quarter of a mile at a dead run, seeing if Cage could keep up. His legs took the lead, but Cage stayed close, panting at his heels. Roman skidded to a stop where the spring bubbled out of the ground, creating its own little stream. He leaned his hands on his knees and panted, grinning like a fool. "Good one, Cub." He got a nod, a lopsided grin, Cage slumping to the ground with a thud. He chuckled. Okay, yeah, he still had it. All that pumping iron while he was stuck in the city, he figured. That and running on a treadmill like a show dog. Jesus. Cage stripped his shirt off, letting Roman see those fine muscles shift and ripple. Fingers twitching, Roman went to the spring and pulled up a handful of water, slurping it down before moving aside to let Cage have at. Cage drank, the sun turning that skin to gold. Damn. Roman gave into his baser urges and pounced, his lips fastening on the kid's throat. He could get used to that bark, that deep, surprised sound that he got every time he got that throat. Licking it gave him all of that scent, all of that taste of sweat and musk and Cage. He bit down gently, giving some warning before biting hard. Hard. Cage went stiff and still, hard as stone underneath him. Caught between the urge to fight and the instinct to submit, the cub just fucking vibrated, pheromones pouring from them both.

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Deliberately Roman rolled to his back, letting Cage have the top for a moment, letting the kid relax. He could see his mark, dark and wet, visibly throbbing in his cub's throat. Cage leaned down into him some, lips parted. Roman guided him, letting the kid kiss him. No biting. That was his job. The kissing, though, that he loved. Seemed like the cub didn't mind it, tasting him nice and slow, focused on it, on him. Those lips were full, swollen from his nips and nibbles, just a little red. Such laser-like focus just seemed weird in someone Cage's age, but he liked being on the receiving end. End. Mmm. Cage had a fine ass, and Roman squeezed it with both hands, loving the resilience. A little rumble pushed into his lips, Cage's hips arching, tight little butt rolling in his hands. Roman let his fingers slide, his thumbs digging into the muscle as his middle fingers and pinkies teased the seam of Cage's jeans. Cage's motions slowed, the look in those eyes all tied up in a mix of worry and want and need. "Shh. Come on, Cub. Nothing you don't want, okay?" Poor confused kid. Wasn't his fault Roman knew exactly what he wanted. "Okay. Yeah." That was enough to ease Cage, to put that focus back on the kisses, one after another, slow and deep and wild as all fuck. Roman arched up, humping, happy as anything. Yeah. Damn. "That's it, Cub. Like that. Hot," he murmured between kisses, between touches. "Uh-huh. Good. Good." Oh, that hunger was something and all his, whether the cub knew it or not. Panting, all but growling continuously, Roman started working those jeans off, too, wanting the cub naked in the sunlight. That skin fascinated him, and he wished to hell he could remember what the kid looked like in the fur. Cage tugged his shirt up, mouth moving down to taste his skin, teeth threatening his nipples. Chuckling, Roman shifted, let the kid gnaw on him a little. That, he didn't mind. If he moved down to the belly... well. "Taste good." Those bright eyes stared up at him, mouth sliding down his breastbone, slow and stubborn. "Uh-huh. I bet you do, too." The jeans gave with a rip at the seam, and Roman rolled them, pushing Cage down again and licking down toward the straining cock. "Those... those were my pants." Uh-huh. And that was a beautiful belly and a heavy, wet-tipped prick.

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"They were. You don't need them. It's not so cold today." Just crisp. Pretty, pretty fall weather that made the world seem bright, made the kid's skin glow. "I will." Cage moaned, stretched out long, offering that belly without even thinking. "We'll get you more..." Of course, keeping the cub naked and needing sounded good. Roman licked down, nuzzling the shallow navel, nibbling the trail of hair. The scent was rich, male, and addictive, Cage curling up around him, moans sounding so much like growls. Cage's cock nudged his cheek, his neck, leaving hot, wet kisses. He could handle that. He surely could. Roman took a bite at one hipbone first, leaving a nice, lurid mark. Then he went to investigate the shape and feel and taste of Cage. Cage made a shocked little sound, eyes wide and almost glowing, watching him. "R-R-R-RRoman." Meeting those eyes for a moment, Roman opened up and sucked Cage in, lips sealing around that thick, pretty cock and sliding down. And down. Nice. "Uhn." Cage's hands opened and closed, the cub's hips bucking and rolling, pushing up toward his mouth. A low growl escaped him, vibrating along Cage's cock. The kid was on fire for him, hot drops sliding down his tongue as his mouth rode up and down. Cage spread like a practiced whore, thighs tight and sheened with sweat. Yeah. Yeah, just like that. He stroked Cage's ridged belly, rubbed his thumbs in circles along the sharp hipbones. The cub made him crazy, and Roman wanted to taste Cage's come, so he pulled harder. A lot harder. It didn't take any more than that, salt and heat just poured into his lips, cock throbbing on his tongue. Licking and sucking, Roman cleaned Cage right off. Happily. Cage murmured and rumbled, the cub gone boneless and melty. Roman moved up the cub's body, rubbing a little desperately, his jeans irritating his prick unmercifully. It took a little for Cage's fingers to work, to get his cock free and wrapped in those strong, smart fingers. Fuck. His back arched and his head fell back as he rode that touch. Yeah. Please. Yeah. Cage nuzzled in, kissing and licking his throat, the threat there just enough to drive him wild, to make him hump and snarl. His come spilled out of him like nothing going, hot and wet against his skin and Cage's hand. His howl echoed through the trees. "Pretty." Cage groaned and gentled his touch, fingers slick with seed. "Smell good."

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"We do, don't we?" They smelled right together. Even better out in the open than they did in the house. "Uh-huh." Cage blinked slowly, eyelashes tickling him. "We can't nap here, Babe." Roman grinned. It was too unprotected. But he knew a place not far. "Come on, let me up." "Hmm? 'Kay." Those eyebrows went down a second, then the cub hopped up, offered him a hand. Taking it, he hoisted himself up and grabbed the clothes strewn all over before leading the way. There was a natural lean-to of rock and trees where they could rest before running some more. "Uh-huh..." He tried to think. He really did. His hands moved, more like paws batting at the overgrowth, but hey, he tried. But he just couldn't think with anything but his cock. Cage's hands were on his ass, squeezing, caressing. Rubbing, then disappearing, then coming back. The kid was just fascinated, and Roman would bet it was in spite of himself. He tossed the clothes into the little opening and beckoned. "Come on and curl up with me, Cub." "Not a cub." The pup puffed up, coming right to him. "Uh-huh. This is my bolt hole, Cub. Remember that if you ever need it, okay?" "Okay." Cage sniffed and looked, learning it, and Roman knew -- knew -- Cage would remember. "Just in case." He couldn't imagine anyone coming after Cage, but then he hadn't been able to imagine needing to leave his home for as long as he had, either. Those hands were on him again, quick, random little touches that were more about exploring than arousing. So curious, his cub. They got settled, the clothes helping soften the hard ground. Roman grabbed Cage and pulled him close, nuzzling his throat. It was easier this time, faster for the cub to accept him, relax and let him have what he was going to take anyway. Praising with a happy growl, Roman licked at the spot just under Cage's ear, the scent good there, strong. What was it about this kid? Cage rumbled, the sound deep and heated, hands petting him in long, slow strokes. His eyes slid closed as he stroked back, his fingers lingering at the small of Cage's back. That got a little growl, Cage's hips shifting just a little. Mmm. Right there. "So, what happened to Johnny, Cage?" He asked it casually, voice low and even, hoping for a knee-jerk answer.

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"He was gone when I woke up. I was hurt bad." "You said you two fought?" It was just... if Johnny could go when the kid was unconscious, why couldn't he have killed the cub? Not that Roman wanted Cage dead. Not at all. "I guess so. We must have." His hand was brought over to the heavy scars on his cub's belly. "It's all fuzzy. I remember I took his eye." Roman stroked them, thinking on it until he figured thinking was overrated. Exploring was better. Cage hummed as his hand slid to one lean hip, then petted the lightly furred thighs. He wanted to hunt with Cage, howl and follow the moon. Soon. They would soon. It would seem like an age, but the moon would come their way again. The kid had fought so well, he would have to hunt even better. Cage's body flowed under his fingers, shifting with each press and rub. Their noises joined together, rumbles and growls and soft pre-verbalizations that settled inside him and sort of echoed. They learned each other, slow but sure, every movement careful and slow, both of them touching and licking. Cage nuzzled, tasting his fingers, his lips, his jaw, the touches gentle enough to not raise his hackles. He shifted a little, rubbing along Cage, letting their bodies fall naturally into line together. They fit well, hand-in-glove, and Cage's stretch proved he wasn't the only one to think so. A deep bass rumble escaped him, sliding along Cage's skin. God, it felt good. He'd been lone wolf too long. Cage arched, the look on that lean face pure pleasure. Maybe he wasn't the only one. "Mmmm. Cub. I swear. I'd much rather have you than Johnny." "Not a cub." His throat got nipped, just the tiniest bit. "Oh, now. None of that." He grinned, pinching that fine ass. Just fine. It felt good enough that he did it twice. Cage squeaked, twisting against him. "Watch it." "I can't watch it and lay like this at the same time, Cage. Figure out what you want." Stifling a laugh, he rubbed where he'd pinched. Oh, that growl was almost cute -- frustrated and rough, all fuss and bluster. It was his turn to nip. Then lick the bite. Cage's chin started to lift, to expose that throat, then it dropped quickly. Oh, sweet cub. Roman licked all along one collarbone, then up, sorta tilting Cage's head up with his nose. Then he licked back down the kid's throat. Roman could go for months on the mixture of arousal and need and reluctance in those raw little cries. His teeth never sank in, but they threatened, letting Cage feel what he wanted. Man, he wanted it so bad,

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that hint of submission. Not all of it, though. Cage was way more intriguing when he fought a little. Cage's hands curled around his shoulders, holding on, digging in. Man, he had to hump just a little. Okay, a lot. "Horny bastard." The words would be more impressive if they weren't all growl. "You bring it out in me, Cub. I swear you do." His cock tried valiantly to rise, twitching madly. "It's the scent. It drives me crazy." "You know it. It makes me hard, Cub. Makes me want to fuck you." The bomb just dropped, and Roman waited, wondering what Cage would make of that. Cage's eyes went wide, stared over at him in pure shock. To soothe the cub, he nuzzled and kissed all along the side of Cage's neck before taking a deep kiss right on the mouth. "I told you," he said when he pulled back. "Nothing you don't want. But I'd like to." The tension eased, eyes searching his for a long minute, then Cage licked his chin. Cage nodded, giving him that little bit of trust, relaxing against him and starting to move against him, slow and easy. "Oh, good, Cage." He figured 'pup' would have the kid tensing up again. "We don't have to do that now, but I sure as fuck hope we will someday." Cage looked at him and he could fucking see all the confusion and conflict and desire in those eyes. Christ, hadn't the pup ever had a pack? He'd bet not. He'd bet the kid had been lone wolf since his momma kicked him out of the den. Roman would show him, though, show him how good it was to have another. Rumbling low, Cage explored him, petting his skin. The heavy eyelids closed, Cage focusing on touching him, feeling. That was it. That was the look he should always see. Lost in pleasure was a fantastic one for Cage. Roman kissed his upper arm, his shoulder and throat, tongue sliding out to taste. "Mmm..." Cage's fingers stilled for a bit, then started moving again. Oh, yeah. Someone liked that. "Mmmhmm. Just feel for a bit, Babe. Just let me love you." His cock had made the rise again, hard as anything, pressing against Cage. Those fingers danced over the tip of his prick, the touch enough to make him growl. "I. You smell good."

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"You do, too." It would take repetition, emphasis. But they'd get it. That got him a nod, a soft lick to his shoulder. The lick made Cage moan, nuzzle closer with open lips. Anything that easy, that good had to be right. There was something that had brought Cage to him. Roman rolled a bit, nuzzling and licking, his hands moving on that skin. Cage's lips wrapped around one nipple, pulling and tugging while Cage's fingers dug into his hips. "Uhn." His eyes rolled, the slow, easy loving starting to go hard and fast as he moved, his hips rolling. "Like that, Babe." Cage was hungry, eager, those lips fastened on his skin as Cage nodded, rumbled. His hands cupped Cage's ass, pulling, rubbing them together harder and harder. He had to growl a little when Cage tried to hit his neck again. Cage backed down, though, only a little sound arguing with him, pushing him. He rolled the kid hard on his back, his teeth closing on Cage's Adam's apple, everything going still while they discussed it. He felt Cage's whimper as the pup fought to keep it in. Stubborn little shit. Stubborn and strong. It was as endearing as it was frustrating. Licking where he'd bitten, Roman verbalized, rumbling and soothing with his hands and lips. It felt like one step forward, two back. He got his whimper then, all caught up in a moan as he licked and tasted. Cage's chin lifted, body arching to get closer to him, to touch him. There. There. That did it. Roman went back to loving on Cage, licking, kissing, his cock pressing. He reached down and cupped Cage's prick, squeezing. So eager, Cage's cock pushed right into his hand, shaft sliding on the palm as the pup's hips jerked and humped. "Good. Yeah. Good." Okay, less than coherent, but it was positive reinforcement, right? Fuck, that felt hot, wild, making him want to howl. "Good..." Cage groaned, fingers finding his prick and wrapping around good and tight. "Good." They moved again, lining up, their cocks slipping and sliding together. Yeah. That was the thing. The perfect ticket. Cage's eyes went wide, lips parting on a low cry. "Roman!" "Yeah, Pup. Come on. We just need to..." His hips pushed and rocked, his orgasm rising along his spine. Heat sprayed up against his belly, Cage's fingers sliding and scratching along his spine. Roman grunted, letting that little bit of pain push him over as he shot, loving how pleasure made his head spin. Yeah. The pup was boneless and quiet beneath him, relaxed and panting nice and easy.

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Again. See, when the kid stopped thinking... Roman curled around him, happy as a pig in shit that their day out was going so damned well. Cage hummed and snuggled, lazy and sated, close to napping with him. "We should get back, Babe," he said. They'd rested already. Time to go home.

Cage nodded. "We should. You make me sleepy." His shoulder got nipped, the bite stinging.

"We wear each other out. Come on, we can run home and curl up in that big old bed..." They

could snuggle. Snuggling was good. He was a fan.

"First one home gets to choose supper." Cage grinned, eyes just lit up as the little shit rolled from under him, scrambling away. They left their clothes behind and just ran for it. Roman would like to say he let Cage win, but the pup had just enough of a head start on him... *** The moon was filling. He could feel it and the change was still unusual enough that it made him growly and restless, had him pacing from workshop to cabin to woods over and over, day and night.

Hunting.

He needed to hunt and feed and...

Yeah.

Hunting.

God.

Cage sort of got lost in his head, coming around at the near edge of the trees, mouth opened as

his nose wrinkled, he was sniffing so hard.

"BOO!" Roman jumped right out in front of him, hands flying up to push at his shoulders.

He yelped and sprang back, leaping forward to pounce on Roman and possibly pound the man

into the dirt. Roman went down, laughing like a maniac, struggling against him.

"Ass." He growled and snapped, adrenaline flooding him and making him shiver. "What were

you doing?"

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"I was coming to see if you wanted to run." They'd done that once before, stripping off and

running through the woods.

"You startled me." His nostrils were flaring, his heart thrumming in his chest. "I like running."

"I meant to. Adrenaline is good for the soul." Roman rolled them, pinning him on the bottom and

rubbing on him, scent heavy and hot. "And other things."

Roman's shoulder felt good, trapped in his teeth. "What other things?"

Lord, Roman was hot, heavy.

Solid.

"Your cock. Makes it easy to just get all hyped up and wanna fuck." Roman grinned, showing his

teeth. The man had a one-track mind.

"You always want." He pushed and rolled Roman over, just managing to bite the soft belly before spring up and running like hell. A deep growl chased him, then he heard footsteps pounding, Roman coming after him. Fuck, the man was fast.

Fuck.

Fuck. Run.

Hurry.

Run.

The trees blurred, nothing but the leaves beneath his feet and the footsteps behind him reaching

him. The lunge nearly took him down, but Roman's hand slid off his back, just catching in the pocket of his jeans. The denim ripped, his feet and head going forward, hips and ass caught for second before the seams let go and he went tumbling. Snarling, Roman scrambled up behind him, rough growls all he could hear over the beating of his own heart. That heavy chest pressed against his back this time, pushing him down. He snarled back, fighting it, pushing back as he scrambled to get to his feet again. They rocked back and forth, Roman clawing at his back a little, splitting his shirt, too. Fucking asshole. He rippled, snapping at the air, teeth clicking together in sheer fucking frustration. A low, hard sound made his hackles rise and then Roman was biting his nape, teeth hard and deep into his skin. It was the best thing he'd ever felt. And the worst.

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A sharp howl tore from him, a mixture of pleasure and panic and things he couldn't understand that poured out of him. Grunting, Roman licked where he'd bitten, the rasp of a rough tongue making him shiver, making it all seem like too much and not enough. All the while that big body pinned him, one arm sliding under his chest to cradle him. His mind was rabbiting, but his body betrayed him, relaxing into the arm that held him, into the heat that surrounded him. He had never heard the sounds that Roman gave him now, not from anyone. He knew them, though. Deep down in his bones. They meant to calm him and excite him at the same time. His head fell forward even as his entire body started rolling and moving, wanting to rub. This was like the hunt. It sang in his blood, urgent and instinctive. Roman made it so good, so hard to think and resist and... oh. God, Roman's mouth felt good just below his ear. Just like with the hunt, Cage stopped fighting it, knowing that it wouldn't work, that the beast knew what he needed. "Mmmmm." That rumble vibrated along his skin, Roman rubbing harder against him, actually sliding him along the ground. His hips rolled, pushing back against Roman, fitting against the muscled body like a hand in glove. He almost had a minute to think when Roman lifted up, cold air blanketing his backside. Then that perfect weight was back, and Roman's skin felt hot and smooth against his, that cock prodding his ass. His breath caught, eyes going wide, but his body didn't still. It just pushed back, ass rubbing against Roman's shaft, like a... Like a bitch in heat. He whimpered, head tossing. "Shhh. Shhh." Roman licked him, sucked up hot blood under the skin of his upper arm before moving to kiss his neck. Those hips never stopped moving, that hard prick never stopped poking. God. His hips started shifting, rocking, pushing back to meet the hot touch of Roman's cock. It slid along his crease, down to rub against his balls and back up again. All the while Roman held him, that strong arm never once giving way, keeping him up, keeping the angle just right. Cage closed his eyes, stopped thinking and let the deep groans that wanted out free. Roman. Oh. Roman sat up on his knees, pulling up, and Cage felt himself pop up, his back to Roman's front. Roman's cock got trapped between them, pressing up, and one of Roman's hands dropped to touch Cage's cock. It made his eyes roll back. His head dropped back against Roman's shoulder as he tried to catch his breath. Good. Good. "Yeah, good." Had he said it out loud, or had Roman just learned to read his mind? The man worked him like there was no tomorrow, keeping him trapped in sensation.

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He relaxed into Roman's rhythm, rocking and shifting, lost right there in it. Roman didn't take it any farther than driving him crazy, and finally that big hand squeezed, pulling all the way down and stroking all the way up. The head of Roman's hot fucking cock tapped at his hole, and that was it. It was all over. The world sort of shifted as he exploded, his whole body going limp and lazy in Roman's arms.

"Mmmm." He felt Roman shoot against his ass, coating his cheeks, his thighs. So hot, like the

guy was just a furnace. Damn. Solid as a rock, Roman held them up, stroking his belly, rubbing

his own come into his skin.

He turned his head, licked and lapping at Roman's jaw and chin, moaning low.

"Better, Cage?" Roman was trying to stop calling him pup. He chose to take it as a sign of

respect.

"Mmhmm. Better." He felt good. Energized and settled all at once.

"Good. Me, too. The moon will come soon enough."

"It never seems like it's soon enough, right before." He'd never talked to anyone about it, not

since he'd been forced from the den.

"That'll settle a bit, once you get older." There was no condescension there. Just the truth, the

voice of experience.

"Yeah? It gets easier?" He wanted Roman to say yes, to say he'd fit back in his skin one day.

"It's always gonna tug. But it does get easier to handle, to feel like you can reel it in." Roman

kissed his neck, his jaw. "And it helps to have pack."

Pack. The word intrigued him and worried him and fascinated him. Drew him. "Good."

"Yes. Good. Home. You know, it's kinda cold." He got a chuckle then, Roman's breath on his

ear. "We ought to go take a shower."

"Mmm..." He hummed, nodded. He liked being in the water with Roman. Being slick.

He dangled for a minute as Roman rose, then set him down, laughing and looking rueful. "We're

tough on clothes, Babe."

"You have a mouse in your pocket, Roman?"

"Well, if you'd quit running from me..." Smacking his ass, Roman started for the cabin, muscles

moving so smoothly under that tanned skin.

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He started following, body moving before his brain quite caught up. It was pretty damned cold by the time he caught up, so he was glad of the hot water when Roman shoved him in the shower and started washing off leaves and come and dirt. Cage tugged Roman in with him, fingers spreading the bubbles over Roman's skin, the bubbles popping under his fingers. Roman laughed for him, mock growling and worrying at his shoulder, no teeth involved, though. He vaguely remembered playing like that, once. Long ago. His fingers remembered better, tickling and teasing, hunting for sensitive spots. Now Roman just hooted for him, tickling right back, fingers not harsh or hard, just playing. Tormenting him. It relaxed him, deep into his bones. It was good, both of them splashing and snorting, laughing together. They ended up just leaning on each other, soaping each other up, the occasional chuckle still escaping. Nothing urgent or sexual was going on. They just basked. They stumbled out before the water lost its heat, drying themselves off roughly before leaping for the sofa with the piles of blankets and pillows. Nests. They liked their nests. He ended up snuggling in close -- not tired, but not wracked with nerves anymore. Settled. "Soon, Pup. Soon the moon will come and we can run. We'll get our first moon together. I can't wait to hunt with you." The words came soft and low, Roman stroking his back. "I can't remember what you were like, I was too scared." Oh, hunting. He was good at that, loved the running and tracking and the smells. "You'll probably want to fight me to begin with. Just remember I won't hurt you. You're just so used to being on your own..." "Yeah. I haven't. I can remember others from before, but not very well. As soon as I got old enough to drop my balls, they sent me away. Too many males for one pack, I guess." His hand found his belly. He'd been cold and scared for a long time after, but he'd learned things, worked. He'd managed until the full moons started changing him. He'd managed well. "Well, I think we're just enough." He could feel Roman's smile against his neck, and one hand joined his, petting his belly. "Did you... Were you on your own?" Weird. They didn't talk much, but he was curious, curious about how everyone else lived. "I've always been in smaller packs," Roman said. "Two or three bachelor males, at least, since I hit puberty. But somehow..." Roman trailed off. "Well, they've all been dropping like flies." "Yeah? I can believe it. Your guy left me close to the bone."

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"Which is just weird. Johnny was kinda... lazy." Shrugging, Roman licked his throat a little, almost grooming him. "Huh. Maybe he changed." That felt so good. Comforting, deep down.

"Could be. I was gone longer than I expected, and if he had to go it alone, maybe his instinct got

better. I'm glad he didn't do you in, Pup." Oh, that was nice. Real.

"Me, too." His fingers found Roman's skin and started petting, long slow glides over hairs and

skin and muscles.

"Mmmm. We ought to think on food at some point, Pup." Roman kinda...swarmed over him,

pulling the covers up more to keep the cold out.

"There's stewed chicken. I could make dumplings." He liked dumplings.

"Oh, I'd like that. You cooking. And I love dumplings." Heavy, warm, Roman just made him feel

good, deep inside. Made him settle.

"Okay." He sighed and snuggled, relaxed deep down.

"Later. We'll eat later. For now, just rest, yeah? You'll need your strength come full moon."

Yeah. To run. Hunt. It would be good.

It would be the best full moon in a long time.

*** Full moon! Roman's skin tingled, feeling way too damned tight. Night needed to fall. He kept pacing, walking back and forth to look out the window of the cabin, growling every time he saw the sun, no moon yet in sight.

The fifth time he turned around, Roman came face to face with Cage, and it startled him enough

that his hackles rose and he snarled a little. Cage blinked and snarled back, teeth bared and eyes

just flashing. The pup didn't jump back, though, didn't back away.

Shit. Roman sighed, running his hand over the top his head, ruffling his short hair. He'd let Cage

chop at it for him rather than go into town, and it was uneven. "Sorry, Pup. Sorry. I'm just..."

Cage nodded, leaned in to lick his chin once. "Soon. It has to be soon. I hurt."

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"I know." There, something to focus on. He put a hand behind Cage's head, stroking the nape of the pup's neck. "I know. I remember. Hell, I'm super itchy." The pup rumbled softly, head falling forward. "Oh..." Those strong fingers landed on his belly, dragging along his skin, scratching. "Yeah." He used his thumb to push into the tense spot just beneath the pup's ear, humming as he twisted into Cage's touch. "That helps, huh? Unh." The kid just couldn't let up on his belly, but Roman didn't mind. It felt fucking amazing. "Uh-huh. Good. Good." Cage kept scratching him, easing his itch as they began to pant. God. He rested his forehead against Cage's and let his eyes fall half closed. This is why a man needed a pack. This was why going it alone sucked. The sounds they made filled the cabin -little chuffs and groans, growls and rumbles. Each sound was less human, more feral and good and right. Fuck. Johnny had never been any good at this. He'd been far too human, and all about the women, at least in theory. Oh, he'd bent over well enough when they were about to change, but the little prick was nothing like Cage. Cage was so damned giving, despite his caution... And, you know, there was the whole Johnny running off thing. The longer they stood there, the less he thought and the more he felt, just Cage and male sweat and right. His chest and shoulders were explored, tasted. Cage moved against him, rubbing and giving him something to rub against. Somehow he had to get Cage naked, too, but his hands just forgot how to work, feeling clumsy and useless. Their scent curled up around them, making his nose twitch and his mouth water. "R-R-R-R-R-Roman." His name just rumbled out, Cage nudging him, sliding their cheeks together. "Mmmmmrrrr." He grumbled right back, his hands kneading at Cage's skin. "Pup. Moon..." Cage nodded, head lolling, teeth gleaming in the light. "Mooooon." Sure enough. Suddenly there it was, just outside the window, almost, so close they could touch it. He'd completely lost time. Roman all but howled as his body began to make the change. The pup pulled away snarling and growling, tearing frantically at his clothes. Yes. Yes. The last of their clothes melted away and Roman ran to the door of the cabin before he lost the ability to open it, letting out his first howl of the full moon. His body twisted, changed, making him shudder and growl.

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He could hear snarls behind him, hear the sound of claws scrabbling on the dirt, the scared whines sharp on the air. Roman turned back, waiting for the young one, waiting to reassure and nuzzle, licking the young one's face when he got close enough. Those eyes rolled a little, a soft whimper sounding as paws stomped on the ground. Then Cage huffed, long tongue sliding on his muzzle. There. There. The pup always knew what was best once he stopped worrying. Once he accepted. Roman huffed a little, turning to lead the pup on a run, letting the joy of the moon sing in his veins. The young one was on his heels, nipping and playing. He could feel the pure joy, the need to run and hunt and smell. Everything felt so much more like this. His senses were so much sharper. Roman veered up a trail that a human would never see, the scents pulling him that way, the scent of food. Rabbit. The pup stopped, sniffed, entire body shivering. A single short bark sounded, alerting him. Roman turned back on his tail, looking into those glowing eyes in the growing darkness. Yes. Play. Hunt. Cage smiled at him, teeth gleaming and white, and then the muscles bunched and the cub was off, crashing through the leaves toward their prey. Barking, Roman followed, rushing through the underbrush that tore at his fur. He ran hard, stretching out flat to the ground, his tail up. His claws dug into the ground, driving him faster, bringing him closer and closer to the cub. Soon he was nose to tail, following the shape of that furry body like a shadow. The pup hunted by pure instinct, much like he had, once. It was a joy to behold. The cub pounced and the rabbit gave a scream, legs kicking violently as it tried to escape. Roman prowled around in a circle, letting Cage have the kill, letting him choose to share. Or not. Cage tore the rabbit apart, the scent of blood flooding his nose. His stomach growled, wanting so badly as Cage's muzzle dug in. Then the big head swung toward him, the bloodied teeth dropping the organ meats for him. Offering him the most tender bits. Oh. Carefully, giving it the attention it deserved, Roman took the pieces, snapping them down once he had them in his mouth. Such a good pup. Such a fine pack mate. Cage fed happily, snuffling and wagging and panting.

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He just watched, licking his own chops to clean his whiskers a bit. He just loved that pup so much already. In this form it was a fierce, hard thing, making him want to howl it to the world. Cage bounced over, all pup in his joy, his excitement, eyes shining bright and sure. All the little noises fell around them -- chuffs and rumbles and little barks. He took a moment to nuzzle, to rub their muzzles together and praise Cage, love on him, making little sounds of his own. Then Roman took off again, knowing that meal wasn't nearly heavy enough to have him sleeping away a full moon. They chased up and down, covering acres of ground before stopping to lap at the pond, the moon bright and huge in the water. The minute Cage stopped drinking, Roman turned and pounced, teeth latching on to Cage's tail. He took the pup down, rolling over and over, playing rough. Cage barked and snapped, grabbing his ear and gnawing. They played tug of war with fur and skin and limbs, but those sharp teeth never closed too hard. This was calculated fun. Not war. Cage went up on his hind legs, landing on his shoulders, teeth on his ruff. Twisting, he shoved his weight into Cage, rolling them down, nuzzling the soft belly fur just once. Oh, pale. Sweet. Cage stretched, paws pushing at him. That long tongue was lolled out, Cage easy in his skin. Up again, and running, wanting the pup to follow him this time. He needed to see how well Cage could follow him, how well the pup understood him. Besides a few distractions -- the light, an owl, a flock of bats -- Cage did well, following and running, keeping up. He ran and ran, following his nose, tracing something... something elusive. Something he couldn't quite make out, but it was familiar. All the while he listened for Cage behind him, proud as he could be of the pup. He heard Cage squeal to a halt, heard the low, hungry growl. He spun around, saw the old buck standing there, too big, too strong to take down, but so tempting. Snapping at Cage's tail, he growled the pup off. That rack could kill in no time. Not to mention the power to stomp. But where there was a buck... Cage whimpered and danced, entire body straining toward the buck, wanting to hunt so badly. No. No, that was his job as the head of the pack, to decide what acceptable risk was. All he had to do was let out a sharp bark and the buck bounded off, crashing through the undergrowth.

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Cage rumbled, muscles tense and vibrating, wanting so badly to chase, to run. He snapped again, putting the kid in line. They had time. They would feast. But not yet. Cage's bright eyes rolled, teeth snapping at the air in sheer frustration. Leading the way, Roman followed the buck's back trail, knowing if there were more they'd be trailing behind. The pup stayed on his heels, sniffing and following the trail, tail straight and still. So ready. So intent. The pup had to have wanted, had to have gone hungry. It had been a long time since Roman had experienced that, and he'd lost some of the urgency Cage still had. Moving up the side of the trail, Roman let Cage take the lead again. He needed to get it out of his system some. Oh. Look at his pup run. The moon lit the kid up, made Cage shine and glow, each muscle limned. Damn. Roman put on the speed, making sure he could keep the kid under his sights, make sure he didn't go after more prey too large for them. He smelled the doe at the same time Cage did, both of them lifting their noses to the wind. Time for Cage to learn concerted hunting. He sent the pup heading off to cut the doe off in front while Roman himself slipped up a bank of dirt and leaves to track around the back. He would heel her while Cage got her throat. She didn't hear them, not until it was too late, Cage popping up in front of the doe, all fur and teeth and hunger. Roman slid neatly in from the rear, his teeth closing hard on her delicate leg, snapping the bone like it was a tin twig. She fought, but it was too late. Cage crushed her throat before she could make a sound and she collapsed into the leaves with little more than a twitch and a grunt. This time they both tore in, but he let Cage have the heart and liver, as the pup needed his strength. The scent of blood rose hot and good around them, making them both snap and growl. Cage's muzzle lifted to the air, the howl satisfied and strong, ringing through the air and making his fur stand up on end. Once they had eaten their fill, it was time to find a place to curl up. Someplace to sleep off the meal nose to tail. Roman knew just the place. Nipping at Cage's back legs, he let out a sharp bark and headed off at a run. Cage followed, stretched out and beautiful under the touch of the moon, claws digging into the cold dirt.

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Panting, Roman lunged up over the rocks, through a small gap in a ring of trees and right into the glen he'd missed like he'd a sore tooth while he'd been gone. It looked the same, the dappled light barely showing it off. Something was different, though, and Roman began sniffing, looking for whatever it was that ringing the alarm in his head. Cage plopped down, lapping his paws, cleaning himself, tail wagging in slow motions. Obviously, it didn't bother Cage, so it was something only he could see, or smell, or... Something shone brightly in a moment, bleached white, and Roman nosed over it, something familiar in the scent, a memory that had his tail standing up and his ears going forward. He heard Cage's curious sounds, heard the padding of Cage's feet behind him. He put his nose right to the weirdness and sniffed deeply, springing back and barking. Oh, God. It was Johnny. Or what was left of him. Cage pushed up, growling low, nostrils flaring. Dead. His pack mate. Dead and the pup hadn't even admitted to it. There was no way the kid could have been fuzzy enough, even after a hard fight, to forget tearing someone up the way Johnny had been. Johnny had been a fuck up, sure, but he deserved better, deserved more than a hidden grave on a lonely hill. Roman turned, lunging at Cage. Goddamned pup could have fucking told him. The pup scrambled back, feet sliding on the fallen leaves. His teeth missed the pup's throat by scant inches, and Roman growled, stalking forward, filled with white-hot rage. Cage shook his head, whining low as he backed away, teeth just bared. When the pup's hind end hit the trunk of a tree, Cage snapped, teeth clicking. That set him off, his brain shorting out; all he could see was red. Springing off his back legs, he went right for Cage, snapping low at the last minute and trying to go for the leg. Blood filled his mouth and Cage yelped, teeth sinking into his ear, fire pouring into his head as Cage tugged. He snarled, biting again, shaking his head violently. The sudden snap of bone satisfied something deep inside him. Cage's panicked scream filled the air, the bites against his head and face becoming more and more desperate. The pup didn't have the right to be fucking scared. He hadn't run Johnny off. He'd fucking killed him and left him to rot. Roman snapped, tearing flesh with his teeth, pulling until Cage tore.

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The cub yanked away, blood pouring from the drawn up foreleg as Cage scrambled away from him, heading for the opening of the trees. Roman chased, nipping at Cage's heels, but the taste of Cage's blood had sobered him, and his heart wasn't in the killing. He'd make sure the pup was well away, and let it go. Cage was too young, too green. He'd probably just been afraid to tell the truth. But it sure as hell meant Cage couldn't be his pack.

Cage didn't look back at him, didn't head back toward the house, just went straight for the trees.

By the time Roman stopped snarling and chasing, the pup had disappeared into the shadows.

Roman stopped, panting, his tail drooping. God, he felt old. He tipped his nose up to the sky and howled for what he'd lost in less than a minute of time. His best friend Johnny and his lover. He had a feeling he knew which one he would miss more. *** Hurt. Hurt. Hurt. He ran until he collapsed, then Cage crawled, dragging himself along the fallen leaves. Hurt.

What had he done? Where had he offended? He'd followed. He'd hunted. He'd run. So many

rules. So many rules and he'd never been pack before and Roman had known that and said it

didn't matter and that they were, but they weren't and…

There had been hatred in those dark eyes, black fury at him.

At him. Driving him away.

The ground before him dropped and he fell, screaming as the bones in his leg crackled and

ground together with a white-hot pain. Bad. Bad. He fought to stand on three legs, holding his foreleg up, the blood matting on his fur, dripping onto the leaves. Leaving a scent where others might know he was injured. He stopped and emptied his stomach, covering the stench of his own blood, then he moved on,

blinking up at the sun.

The sun.

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He shivered, waiting to change, to lose the wolf, but it didn't happen. Someone would help him. Someone would. He'd find a road and before the next moon, he'd get some help and… The sun fell on him and he thought about being a man, but nothing happened. Nothing. He. It wouldn't. Couldn't. That was worse. He'd lost his home, his tools, his mate, his territory, all in a matter of seconds. Now he'd lost Cage. His howl echoed in the trees as he poured out his fear, his pain, his complete and utter confusion. He called and cried until he was too tired to be scared anymore, then he started limping along. Shelter. He needed somewhere to stop. *** Roman was missing Cage like a lost limb. Goddamn, he wondered for the nine hundred and ninety-ninth time, why had he been so hasty? Sure, Johnny had been his friend, but that was the way of the pack. The weakest went the way of the dodo. Cage was no rogue hunter; he was just a fucking kid when it came to the ways of the wolf. He didn't know any better. Hell, maybe Cage didn't even remember killing Johnny, if he'd been hurt that bad. The rage that came in the wolf form faded with the human, and Roman knew now he should have waited until the kid could explain. Finding what was left of Johnny hadn't been easy, but Roman had buried the remains, high on Johnny's favorite hill. The first snow fell right after, and Roman was damned glad he didn't have to dig on frozen ground. He just marked the grave with a big stone and a lot of scent, and that was that. That had been… well, a while ago. Now he was just alone and wandering and waiting for the next full moon so he could try to catch Cage's scent. He was really thinking of finding the pup and dragging him home. Even if the cub had lied to him, Roman had gotten used to having him around. And damn, if he took Cage back in as pack, he could teach the cub to never lie to him again. *** He could hear the laughter of the others, feel the teeth on his heels, driving him away and away. Cage rolled and growled, snapped and bared his teeth as he went. He was not pack.

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He was no one's mate, no one's kin. Run. Run, Cage. They laughed at him, the yips and barks insults and mocks. Run, Pup. Run away. Not pack. Not. Outsider. Outsider. Outsider. He growled out his feverish sorrow, but kept running, scared to stop, scared to turn around and see Roman there among the others, hating him. Hunting him. Driving him. *** The moon was on him. Roman felt it like a hundred ants crawling up and down his spine. Run. Run, run, run, the moon told him. Find Cage. Roman growled, pacing in front of the window, really just waiting for the moon to pop up above the horizon. His skin danced, like water droplets on a hot skillet. He needed to go. The moon finally broke the treeline, and his body went crazy, the heatpainfree sensation of changing overtaking him. Then he was on all fours and ready to go. He stopped just outside the back door of the cabin and howled, just in case Cage was nearby. The pup was so young he might answer instinctively, without thought. An answer came, but it wasn't Cage. No, it was a new voice, one Roman had never heard, and his hackles went up, his lips curling back in a snarl. It was one of his kind, not a normal wolf, and it had full-blown aggression in its throaty howl. Roman took off at a run, his body flattening to the ground, ready to chase the interloper off his ground, his territory. No one came without his approval. No one but Cage, and Cage was his pack now, for all that Roman had said he wasn't, had driven him away. Yeah, okay, so he'd decided to take Cage back, so wh... The big intruder hit him low and fast from his right, bowling him over, sharp teeth snapping closed like a the jaws of a crocodile only inches from his back leg. Roman leaped away, twisting to snarl and grab for the big bastard's jaws. He couldn't help but notice two things. The wolf outweighed him by a good twenty pounds, and the son of a bitch was missing an eye.

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"I took his eye." Wasn't that what Cage had said? His distraction almost cost him his fucking life. The big gray wolf almost took his throat, the bottom canines scraping across his flesh, opening it so that blood splashed out on the crust of snow on the ground. Roman growled and turned on a dime, snapping, fury giving him strength and speed. Not fear. Just fucking raw rage. This was the bastard that killed Johnny. This was the one who'd fought Cage and lost. This was the fucker who had broken up Roman's pack. Barking and snarling, both of them rejoined the fight, the big gray tearing in with a singleminded intensity. Roman fought just as hard, his admiration for Cage growing when he thought of his little pup fighting this goddamned monster. A surprised yelp left him when the intruder snapped the end of his tail right off. Pain fueled his strength and Roman all but doubled back on himself, latching on to the other's throat and holding on. He hadn't caught the jugular, but the big wolf was screaming, so he must have really done some damage. The big gray tried to back off, but Roman held on, shaking his head back and forth, his paws slip-sliding in the snow. The other howled, snarling and pulling and finally breaking free, leaving a patch of skin a good two inches around in Roman's mouth. A heavy trail of blood followed the other all the way to into the forest, and Roman was tempted to follow, but when he took a step, he realized that he was dripping blood, too. And that he had other fish to fry. If he had thought he needed to find Cage before, he knew it now. He had to find Cage, had to make sure the pup knew it was okay to come back home. That Roman had been wrong. So wrong. They were still pack. And he'd find Cage if it was the last thing he did. *** The hare was in a trap, still and frozen where it had died, and he moved carefully, watching for hunters, but too hungry not to take the bait. The snows were coming; he could smell them and he knew once they fell, there would be no hunting. He would only dream, then. After the fevers had passed, he thought that wolves should never dream, that only men should dream. He was not a man. Cage grabbed the hare and jumped back as the bigger snare snapped shut, missing him. He growled at the metal teeth, marked it. His home. His home now.

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His den. The first snowflakes started to fall and Cage picked up the hare. He would take it with him to his little den. He would take it and hide it for… He finished gulping the meal, fur and all, before his thoughts stopped. Cage chuffed, sniffing around for bits he'd lost before padding back to his den. *** The snow kept falling. At first he'd been fascinated by it, then scared as the light from the little

cave faded each day.

Now, Cage didn't care.

The more snow that fell, the warmer his den was.

He curled in tighter, licking and biting at the pink skin of his leg, soothing himself, crooning to

keep himself company. The spring would come and he would learn to hunt with a bad leg, learn

to work without his arm strong.

It would come.

It would.

His tail covered his nose and he dozed, dreaming of running and hunting, of dark eyes laughing

with him, loving him.

In his dream he could hear Roman calling to him. Not that mournful, lost howl he'd heard that

last night, but a sharp, I'm coming sort of way. It echoed in his ears, making him whine.

He let himself remember the little house, his tools, the shower that fit them both. The smell of

eggs in the kitchen and pack in the bed.

It made him warm, deep in his bones.

He heard Roman again, heard that low growl that meant Roman was frustrated, was trying to

wake him up. Then a cold, cold chill hit his nose, the cave seeming to go bright and light as the

dawn’s sun poured in.

His eyes popped open and he scrambled back before he even saw who had discovered him.

Damn it. Damn it.

Like the heavy barrier of snow was less than nothing, a big muscled body popped into his cave,

shaking like mad to get the white stuff off. A body he recognized. A man he knew.

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Cage fought the urge to whimper; he hadn't gone back, he hadn't encroached on Roman's

territory at all.

His heart pounded and he knew, without a doubt, he couldn't outfight Roman this time. Still, if

he was going to die, he would go fighting. He braced himself on three legs and bared his teeth.

This place was his.

His own.

Roman didn't attack, didn't even feint or circle. No, the damned big asshole grinned, kneeling

and lowering his head and looking Cage right in the eye, making this familiar half-growl, half-

whine.

What game was this? He kept sliding against the wall, not giving Roman an opening. He could

run. If he could get to the opening, he could run.

"Cub..."

He did whimper then, the word cutting into him like a blade. Cage took his chance, running for

the cave opening as fast as he could.

If he could make the riverbank, he could go downstream before Roman caught him again.

They collided with a smack, Roman's arms closing around him, and they hit the ground with a

thud, making Roman grunt and curse. "Pup! No. Cage. Please, wait."

His foreleg ached, the damn thing not cooperating as he scrabbled at the ground, barking furiously. Like he'd never been rejected, refused, Roman twisted and wrestled him, heavy and hot against him, pushing him back from the mouth of the cave, back almost to the wall. That big bastard took him right down, too, human teeth closing on his throat. Gentle as could be.

Cage's eyes rolled, body screaming at him to fight, instinct making him still and stay, trembling

and waiting for Roman to tear into him.

Instead, Roman stroked his fur, his muzzle, making these almost subvocal noises that eased him,

stopped his shaking a little.

Finally he closed his eyes, too hungry and tired and confused to fight anymore. He didn't

understand.

Of course, he hadn't understood anything in days, why should today be different?

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A low, sweet growl ghosted across his throat, Roman nuzzling right up to him, breathing in time

with him.

Warm.

Roman was warm.

Another low rumble sounded, and then damned if that confusing son of a bitch didn't move them

again, putting him on his feet.

"Come home with me, Cage."

Cage thought about being human. Thought about losing his fur, about paws becoming hands

and...

He couldn’t. He was lost.

"You heard me. I said come home with me." Roman moved close again, warming him, nosing

his neck. "I can explain..."

Explain? He was an outsider, alone. Denied. Cage shook his head, staring down at his foreleg

with the scars, the fresh pink flesh, the lump from the break making it still too sensitive to hold

his weight. He hadn't imagined it all.

He hadn't.

Roman had turned on him.

"I can, Cub. I was wrong. You have to come home. It's as much yours as it is mine." So

reasonable. So calm. Roman touched him, stroking his ruff, dark eyes serious.

He shook his head, convinced suddenly that he had finally frozen. That his hunger and wounds

were worse than he understood. Cage bared his teeth.

Roman had driven him away.

Like Roman could read his thoughts he said, "I know. I'm just fucking glad I didn't kill you. I

need you, Cub."

He wanted to lean into that touch. He didn't understand. He shuddered, whining low. He didn't

understand.

"Shhh. Let me get you home. Let's get some food in you, curl up in our bed, and I'll tell you."

He backed away. No. No. He didn't want Roman to hurt him there. He had loved it there. Loved

Roman there. If Roman was going to fight him, he wanted to do it here.

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"I'm not joking. Don’t pull away from me. Have I ever lied to you, Cub? Ever? I was wrong. Come on, Cage, it's fucking cold." It was cold. He dropped his head, too confused and exhausted to fight. Roman stood beside him, big and strong, and he headed into the snow, gait unsteady as he fought the snow, his foreleg. Roman kept on him, kept him moving, leading when the snow got too deep, lifting him and carrying him when he slowed down. But never once did Roman turn on him. It was unreal, like a dream, and Cage couldn't understand it anymore, so he stopped trying. He just kept moving. When the cabin came into sight he wanted to howl, sure that the cruel joke was almost over, but Roman went right up to the door and let them in, just like that. Cage limped in, finding a protected spot beside the wood-burning stove that kept the cabin warm. He couldn't stop sniffing, stop smelling the familiar and the new and the different. The place was trashed, shit laying everywhere. Broken shit. Some of it looked like it was cobbled back together, but a lot was just...kindling. It had been such a good house. He keened softly for it as he lapped at his pads, his toes, cleaning and warming his feet. "Yeah. I kinda got...itchy. Went a little nuts. We'll put it back to rights. Come on, Babe. Bed." Oh. Roman. Stoking the stove and then wandering right toward the bedroom. No. No. He didn't think so. He could sleep here where it was safe and warm. Cage curled into a tight ball, paws over his nose. Napping. Napping first. Then thinking. *** Roman swerved at the last moment and headed for the shower, and that was when he realized Cage wasn't with him. It concerned him that Cage wasn't back in his human form, wasn't able to talk to him and get all this shit fixed. Maybe the cub just needed doctoring. Roman wandered back through the shattered front room, shaking his head. He hadn't fixed up the place at all after the fight. He'd just dropped everything and gone to find Cage. Now he found Cage curled up by the stove, and Roman squatted down, his hands running automatically over Cage's ears. Cage whimpered a little, then those eyes popped open, staring at him. The cub was skinny, fur all rough, and that leg. Damn.

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It was the eyes, though, so confused, that did him in. Roman scooped Cage right up off the floor and hauled him to the bedroom, holding tight when the cub would have struggled. He needed to dose that leg. Cage panted, trembling in his arms, little sounds filling the air like the cub was trying to talk to him. Hell, he probably was. The damned fool should be human at this phase. He got Cage settled on the nest of covers, stroking the thin back and the long nose. "Gonna get some stuff for your leg, Cub. Don't go anywhere." Cage curled up into himself, watching his every move. Staring at him. Worried about what he was gonna do, he'd bet. All he did do was go to the bathroom and get antiseptic and some bandages and shit, coming back to sit carefully next to Cage. The bandages were nosed, Cage shivering a little. He could feel the muscles in the cub's body shift and shudder, the hint of the man right there, right under the surface. "It would be easier to treat you as a man, Babe. Just a thought." He kept his voice low, coaxing. Kept all his moves easy. Cage groaned and muttered, head tossing a little. The cub was trying, Roman could see it. It was like Cage had forgotten his form. "Come on, Cage. Come on. I can't spoon with you like this, can't take you to the shower and wash you. You remember how we fit? How good it is? Come on." God, he hated to see the cub in this kind of pain. And it was his fault. Those eyes met his, filled with confusion and hurt and a bone-deep betrayal that rocked him to the core. Then Cage moved off the bed, howling as the wolf disappeared, leaving him a naked, swaying man kneeling on his floor. Fuck. Oh, fuck. He knelt next to Cage, sliding his arms around the pup, nuzzling into the thin shoulder. "It's okay, Cub. I got you. It's okay." "I. You. You. What do you want? I stayed away." "I know." He gave a rough chuckle. "I had a time finding you." "Why?" Cage wanted to lean into him, he could feel it. He knew. "It was... out in the woods. It was Johnny. I thought you didn't tell me..." And in his wolf, he wasn't very reasonable, was he? "What? I told you. He left. We fought. He left." Christ, the kid didn't even know that the bastard who'd come wasn't Johnny.

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"You fought someone, Babe. Someone a hell of a lot stronger than Johnny." Fuck, he was amazed Cage was still alive. "You've got grit, Cub." He got a look like he had lost his mind. "Don't call me cub. We're not pack." Roman growled, the urge to show Cage how pack they were almost too strong to resist. Instead of tossing Cage down and covering him, though, he kissed the cub right on the mouth, as gentle as he could be, probably not gentle enough. Cage whimpered, eyes searching his frantically, the little sounds less human now, more wolf. Licking Cage's lower lip, he pulled away just enough to nuzzle Cage's throat, that skinny belly, licking and growling. The old scars were right there, reminding him that his cub was a fighter, was strong. Once he was satisfied that Cage wore his scent, Roman pulled back and stared right into those eyes. "I was wrong. It was another who killed Johnny, who came back for you right before I hunted you down. I'm sorry." "I told you. Your man left. He ran. I bit his face, took an eye. He ran. I told you." Cage shook his head. "Another? Who?" "A killer, Babe. Just a fucking rogue killer." Stroking Cage's back, he rose, lifting Cage with him and settling them on the bed, curling with him. "I don't understand." The cub curled around the hurt arm, knees drawn up. "I'll say it until you do." He knew how it was, to be injured and disoriented. How it fucked with you. "You didn't kill Johnny, Cub. You didn't." "I know." "Well, I thought you did when I found his fucking body in the woods, torn to shreds!" Goddamn it, he had apologized. Cage pulled away, scrambling back off the bed, eyes flashing as the cub moved out of his reach. "You... you did this because of something you thought? For something like..." The crooked arm was raised, Cage's voice a deep growl. "You leave me alone or I will make you sorry." Oh, he didn't fucking think so. "I thought you'd lied to me, Cub. What the fuck was I supposed to think?" He reached for Cage, gonna knock some sense into him. Cage snapped at him, slapped his hand away, snarling. "Don't fucking call me cub." "Damn it, Cage." Lunging, he wrapped around that too-thin body and took Cage down on the bed, using his weight to hold them down.

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"Motherfucker." Cage gasped, teeth on his throat sharp enough to sting. Growling low and deep, he pushed Cage down and bit down on one shoulder, making the cub feel it, hoping it would shock the fight out of him. The cub's instincts were stronger than anything, generations and generations of hierarchy in those veins, and Cage groaned, snapping at the air, fighting the urge to submit. Cage was stronger than he had been, for all of the lost weight and injured body. Damn. Roman pressed down, his mouth at that pretty throat, sucking up a bruise. The taste was. Damn. His. His cub and he wasn't fucking losing Cage again, goddamnit. That chin lifted, Cage's throat working under his lips. That was it. That was what they both needed. "Mine. My Cage." "Roman." Yes. Yes. Cub. He felt Cage shudder, melt, and go limp beneath him. God, yes. Rumbling, he moved up, rubbing against Cage's body, scenting him all over. They were together. Together. His. His pack. Cage moaned, lips open, tongue hot on his skin. They kissed again, deeper this time, desperate and needy. Reestablishing the bond. God, he'd missed this, missed Cage in his bed, and he wondered how he'd ever thought Cage would lie to him. When Cage's fingers wrapped around his upper arms, holding on, tugging him close, it was all he could do not to howl his need. So good. Trusting him, wanting him still. His cock ached, and he rubbed harder, the soft skin of Cage's lower belly so hot against him that he did cry out, a hard, barking sound. "Need. I." Cage twisted under him, wild for a second like the needing was too much, too big for the cub. "Shh. I got you, Cage. Gonna fly." They would, too. Roman reached down, twisting so he could grab Cage's cock. "I didn't. I dreamed of you." The words ended in a sharp cry, Cage humping up toward his touch. "I searched this house for you every night. Tore it up..." There. Fuck, yes, there. He got both of them lined up together, squeezing their pricks, lapping at Cage's sweat. "Wanted. I thought. Roman." The words didn't make a lick of sense, but it didn't matter because Cage was coming, howling with it, and that scent hit his nose like a flood, all salt and heat and Cage. Roman bucked, his body taking over his mind, and he howled back, calling his pack as he came, loving Cage so damned much it hurt. Cage was still underneath him, breath panting on his jaw. He needed to bandage his pup up, feed Cage, get them in the shower, and then in the bed for about. Oh. Ten years or so. He kissed Cage's forehead. "Come on, Babe. I need to get you cleaned up. And then we can rest. Together."

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"I... I forgot how to change back." Nodding, he stroked Cage's sweaty hair back off his face. "It can happen. You were hurt. I've got you, though. Okay?" If both of them were thinking that he was the one that did the hurting, neither of them said it. "Okay. Clean would be good." Taking another kiss, he rose and lifted Cage up. Shower first. Then bandages. Then food and sleep. He was gonna take care of Cage. They were pack. That was his job. *** He slept for weeks, it seemed like, and when he didn't sleep, he ate. They didn't talk much; Roman watched him and he watched Roman and they put the cabin back together. It had taken a while to understand what had happened -- that Johnny wasn't who he thought and that there was a rogue out there, one who was trying to kill them for their den. His arm healed, slowly, though it would never be straight again, never be what it was. Roman doctored him, constantly testing and nuzzling and touching. It was maddening and wonderful and the whole thing confused him and he ended back in the bed, dozing and not thinking. Waiting for the moon again. Roman crawled into bed with him, long and warm and firm against him. One big hand settled on his back, rubbing gently. The silence stretched, but it felt good to cuddle. He snuggled in, lifting his face to lick Roman's chin, say hello and yes and pack. "Mmm." The deep bass rumble sounded good, vibrated against his skin, Roman saying hello back, hello and need and warm. The Roman-scent filled his nose and he searched for more of it, lips and tongue exploring, sliding over Roman's skin. Rolling, Roman covered him, legs pushing between his, giving him something solid, something to push against. That mouth touched his, lips and tongue sliding on his. The cold outside stayed there, the heat they created together soothing him to the bone. He wrapped his legs around Roman, their thighs sliding together. He could see every individual eyelash, each pore of Roman's skin, the firelight painting them both with a deep orange glow. Roman kissed him until they were both breathless, until they rocked madly. Roman slid everywhere, the man's flavor in his mouth, the scent on his skin, deep vocalizations in his ear. Inescapable. His. Roman was his, as much as the other way around. He arched when Roman stroked the scars on his belly, then his hip, his thigh. Heat. Love. Yes.

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Those lips slid down over his shoulder and upper arm, leaving a trail of stinging kisses. And

testing his muscles. Always so concerned about that arm.

Cage chuffed and nuzzled, caught somewhere between pleasure and something bigger than.

Pack.

They just moved together for a long time, their shadows crazy and huge on the ceiling, Roman

calling to him with each growl and yip.

It was the slide of Roman's fingers down along his cleft that sent him over the edge, seed pouring

from him as his cock jerked against Roman's skin.

"Cage." Roman groaned against his skin, bit just enough to light a tiny spark in the muscle. Then

Roman was coming for him, scent joining his in a way that meant home.

It was easy, to lean in and lap at Roman's lips, the curve of the strong jaw. "Smell you."

"Mmmhmm. Love you, Cub. Know that, right?" Roman said it like he said it every day, sleepy

and rumbly.

"Yeah. Yours." He nodded, blinking good and slow. "Pack."

"Good." Grinning, Roman licked his chin. "Wanna make eggs and bacon?"

"Always hungry." He rumbled and stretched, joints popping. "You make biscuits."

"I can do that. We're going to have to provision soon." He got that sideways look that said

Roman didn't want to leave him alone.

He nodded, licking his lips. He didn't want the change to come. He wasn't ready. "I can go."

"I don't want you to go alone, Babe." There was something there in Roman's eyes. Not fear, but

wariness. For him. Not of him.

"He'll try to take the cabin, if we both go. He'll watch."

"I know, Babe. But he might try to take you down..." Roman kissed the corner of his mouth. "I

say the best defense is a good offense."

He wasn't sure exactly what that meant to Roman, but he was willing to go along. For now.

Mmm. Kisses.

That big bastard knew how to distract him, smiling against his mouth, licking at his lower lip.

Damn, that felt good. He groaned low, chasing that tongue with his lips, the urge to play

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inescapable. Roman growled happily and bit his chin lightly before stepping back, just daring him to come and get that bare body. He tensed, getting ready to pounce and nibble. Lick. Rub. Bite. Oh. Focus. Backing up, Roman seemed to tilt off balance, foot coming down on something, maybe the rug. Roman tilted. Cage pushed forward, ready to grab him, help. Which was when Roman took him down, rumbling as they rolled over and over on the floor. He landed on top, though, Roman laughing up at him. Oh. Bitch. Cage growled, leaning down to nip Roman's throat, marking the man as his. "Mmmm. Cub." Those dark-assed eyed twinkled, Roman loving on him, licking his chest while big hands cupped his ass. His hips jerked, without any thought, just pushed up into Roman's hands as he nuzzled in, lips exploring. Roman grunted, rolling with him, moving him so that Roman could get to more of his skin, sucking up marks where the other bruises had faded. Replacing them with something good. His arm was licked and nuzzled, too, each scar touched like Roman could erase it. Roman just kissed him all over, loved each and every scar, even those the gray had left on him. By the time Roman was finished, Cage was melted and blinking, cock aching it was so hard, heart pounding in his chest. "Mate." "Yours. All yours, Cage." Roman was just as hard for him, just as hot, hips rolling against his. Over and over. Cage nodded. Yes. Yes. His. He needed. "Please." "Want in you. Need it." So careful. Roman had been so damned careful with him since finding him again. Now. They needed now. He surprised himself by nodding, by spreading his thighs. He. Yes. Roman just growled, grinning wide and white and big bad wolf before rolling away for a moment, reaching, muscles sliding under skin and hair. He followed, staying close, hands mapping the way those muscles moved, the way that skin felt. "We need some... ah. There." Quick as anything, Roman turned and kissed him, pulling him up. "Bed, Lover. Might as well do this right."

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It was easy, really, to nod and tuck himself under one of Roman's arms. Of course, that gave him access to the soft, fuzzy belly and he took it, tickling and nuzzling. Chuckling, Roman shivered, belly rippling for him. "Watch it, Cub. I'm needing powerful." He dared to bite harder, not enough to hurt, just enough to make Roman feel him, feel his own need. Laughing, Roman opened the little bottle of whatever that smelly stuff was and squirted some out, catching it. "Hungry pup. I love it when you do that. Gonna get inside you, Babe." He nodded, nuzzling close before turning onto his belly, trying not to shake as his hips canted. "Shhhh." Patting his butt, Roman bent to lick at his spine. "Gonna be good, gonna make you feel so right." Long fingers, wet and cool, pushed against his crease, against his hole, gently opening him, relaxing him. He melted into the sheets, thighs spreading as Roman's fingers pushed him. That wasn't bad. No sir, that was the most amazing thing, Roman's fingers in him, pressing him down, stretching him so wide he cried out. Roman kissed his neck, licked each bump along his spine, those fingers working in and out, in and out. He couldn't quite think, couldn't figure out whether to move or be still, toss his head or jerk away or push closer. "Roman." The name tore from him, just pushed from him. "Yes. Now." He could feel Roman moved up behind him, those fingers slipping away, then the head of Roman's cock was against him, pushing in a little. Then deeper. Harder. His head lifted, eyes wide as the mixture of burn and stretch slid up his spine. Roman's hands landed on his, curling tight and squeezing. They started rocking, starting moving together, Roman pushing him like always, making him crazy. That man just poked him and prodded him and proved that he had it in him to do everything he didn't know he could. Roman was everywhere -- in his body, in his nose, against his skin, throughout him. Cage couldn't fight it, didn't want to, and he dropped his head forward and offered Roman his nape. The man took it without a pause, surging into him, up over him, teeth sinking right into his skin. Roman's. Roman's pack. He howled, seed shooting from him, balls aching and hard, Roman's shaft so big inside him. So thick. One more thrust, all the way deep, and then Roman was coming inside him. Filling him right up. Hot and wet, Roman gave him everything, including a long, low howl, possessive as hell. It was all he could do to nod. Agree. Roman's. Yes. Pack. He. Uhn.

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They fell, and he thought maybe it was good they had moved to the bed, because wow, heavy. Roman licked at his throat, his neck just beneath his ear, breath hot and heavy. So warm. He hummed and settled, the weight and pressure above him familiar, deeper than his bones. "I know what we'll do, Babe. We'll get rid of that fucking lone wolf, and we'll have our place and we won't have to worry." "You think he'll come back? With both of us here?"

"I think that crazy bastard will try anything. He's not right, Babe. He's too bold. Too ready for a

fight." That growl boded ill for anyone who tried to take what was Roman's.

"I fought him once, Roman. I'm stronger now. He can't take us both." He'd almost died, but he

knew. He knew. He was pack now.

"No, he can't. We'll take him." That seemed to be that. Roman got even heavier against him, sort

of working toward a doze. Which meant no eggs and bacon if he let that happen.

"Mmm... you were hungry..."

A different kind of growl sounded, Roman's belly actually vibrating against him. "Uh-huh. Food

good."

They started laughing, both of them chuffing and growling together.

By the time they managed to get breakfast he was feeling pretty damned good, and a lot more

confident that they would be just fine. He had a place with Roman now. No matter what. *** The moon was on them. Roman felt it in his bones, from the top of his skull to the bottoms of his

feet. It was time. Time to hunt. And tonight, they had a specific target.

Roman had felt the other out there the last week. When he went outside to do anything, when he

stood in the open door, anytime he and Cage might be vulnerable. Someone was watching. It was

time to clean house.

The cub had gone quiet about two hours before, all but vibrating as the afternoon moved toward

evening. At this time of year, that didn't take long. Roman wandered over, rubbing a hand up and

down Cage's back.

"All right, Babe?"

"'M fine. Worried. But fine." Cage pushed closer, moving toward his touch.

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"Nothing to worry about, Babe." He had a feeling Cage was more worried about how this would affect them than he was about kicking ass. The cub's trust in him was returning, but it was a slow, twitchy process. Cage nodded, but the little wry laugh wasn't comforting. Roman shook his head; he could damn near hear the 'what if’s rolling around the kid's brain. "You think too much. Sometimes you just gotta go on instinct." He proved the point by biting at the cub's shoulder, getting those endorphins rolling. The pup growled, pulling away for only a second before pushing back and slapping their chests together. It was like that every time, had been from the beginning, Cage fighting him for a half a minute and then pushing him to mark that sweet throat. Always pushing to be reminded who led the pack. He'd bitch if it wasn't so fucking hot. Cage dragged him down for a kiss, the act sudden enough to surprise him. Roman went with it, cupping one hand behind Cage's head to hold him still, taking control of the kiss just as suddenly. He could eat the cub up. He really could. Cage opened for him, moaning and panting into his lips for a moment before those lips wrapped around his tongue and the cub started sucking. Heat surged through him and Roman moved, pushing Cage back until they hit a wall, a picture falling to the floor with a crash. Roman ignored it, his hips rolling forward, the contact making him grunt. Their teeth clacked together, the flavor of blood between them sudden, and Cage jerked back, eyes rolling, lip curled. "I've got you," he murmured, bending to kiss at Cage's throat, to lap at the mark he'd left there. "I've got you." Cage nodded, cheek against his temple, hands sliding over his shoulders. The stocky body was stiff against him, though. Wrong. Wrong as Cage's whisper. "He's here. Outside. I saw him." A low growl escaped him, vibrating along Cage's skin. "Soon, Babe. Soon. We have a better shot when the moon comes." "Our den." Cage's snarl buzzed with a real fury. "He can't have it." Yes. That was what he wanted. He wanted Cage to think in terms of theirs, together. "You know it, Babe. Can you feel it? It's coming." The change would be on them in no time. "What if I can't change back?" Again. Lord, is that what the cub was stressing? Roman almost laughed -- all the shit that could go wrong, and...

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The moon poured in through the window and he couldn't even answer, the change slamming into them. Roman snapped at the cub when he would have let out a howl, then let out a low bark, making his way to the back of the cabin, ready to circle out behind their prey. Cage took a few tentative steps, then followed, foreleg holding strong. The cub kept a distance between them, nostrils flaring, sniffing out their prey. Such a good one, his Cage. Quick to learn and willing to work as pack. Roman nosed the door open and they melted out into the night, only one low bark needed to tell Cage which way to go. He could smell the other now. The bastard had left scent like he had a right to. Cage's lips curled up in a snarl, hackles raised. The pup was vibrating, low rumbles pouring from him. The glow of eyes flashed for a tiny moment and Roman was off, making himself the lure to draw the other in, making Cage the heeler. They would take the bastard down once and for all and have him for dinner. The outsider was smarter than he looked, though, and he heard Cage's bark, high and sharp, followed by the snarls as the fight was on. Damn it. Putting on a burst of speed, Roman circled back and waded into the fray, snapping at the big gray's vulnerable back legs. His pup was holding his own, though, teeth snapping and tearing, pushing that big bastard back into him. A loud yelp sounded when Roman's teeth closed down, and damned if that asshole didn't bounce away, skin tearing, but that leg still intact. Snarling, Roman went in lower, faster, his tail up for balance. Cage knew which eye was gone, the cub circling to attack from that side, over and over. When Cage got purchase on the throat, the big gray screamed, using all of his strength to shake Cage off. As soon as Cage backed off, Roman was on, going in with all his strength for that throat. Now. It had to be now. The scent of blood and fear filled the air, then his mouth as his teeth snapped over the gray's windpipe, crushing it, the world gone red. When he felt the other's breathing stop Roman let go, letting the body flop to the ground so he could throw back his head and howl his triumph to the night. His den. His home. His pack. His voice echoed out, letting everyone know that he would defend what was his.

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He turned to Cage, making sure the cub was with him, wasn't injured, sticking his muzzle against Cage's side, sniffing. The cub jumped away, refusing to let him that close, teeth flashing in warning. Roman stopped, head tilting as he stared, an inquiring noise slipping from him. His tail went up, wagging a little as he tried to encourage Cage to come to him. Cage stared for a minute, then a soft little yelp sounded, Cage pushing in close, tongue lapping his muzzle. There. Oh good. They circled each other, licking and panting, just making sure they were both okay. Then Roman scratched some dirt over the body and turned toward the woods, running a few steps and looking back to make sure Cage was ready to run. He was. The moon was calling him. Cage chuffed, eyes bright and sparkling, the moon caught in him. So fine, his mate, silver and black and bright. Cage took off, giving him that tail to chase. It was like an irresistible toy, a fan, waving madly as Roman ran after, and he barked, spurring Cage on. Playing. Playing. Cage leapt up on a rock, the dark top just sticking up out of the snow. Hell, yes. Roman slipped a little as he cornered, his feet going out from under him, and he went down, skidding across the leaves and snow on his side. He bounded up and shook, taking after Cage, who was chuffing madly at him. Cage's nails scraped on the stone, then the snow flew, Cage bounding through the white, snapping at the bits that flew up into the air. They hit together when Roman rushed, rolling over and over until they stopped with Cage on the bottom, Roman wagging and pushing Cage deep in the snow. Then he was up and off, daring Cage to come get him. His tail was nipped; he was driven and then given that fine flank to chase himself. They bounded through the snow, occasionally getting lost in deep pockets, having to call to each other to make their way out. They played until Roman was exhausted and ice began to form between the pads on his feet, until the sore places on his jaw started to really hurt where the big gray intruder had bitten down. Then it was time to quit, time to find a place to get warm and sleep. Cage was limping some by the time they stumbled back to the cabin. Their cabin. Roman shouldered the swinging door open and Cage followed, shaking the snow from his fur. The fire had burned low, but the great thing about a pot-bellied stove was how long it would glow, how long they could lie next to it and stay warm. Roman nosed Cage to the best spot, licking at the cub's stiff fur.

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Cage returned the favor and, by the time the sun rose, they were curled together, warm and dry

and sound asleep.

Roman shifted his now-human body and listened to joints pop. They'd need to move to the bed,

he figured, grabbing the quilt down off the rocking chair next to the fire and wrapping it around

them.

Later. He would move later. Maybe next full moon, he thought as he went back to sleep. *** The spring would never come. Never. He was going to be trapped in here in the cold by the snow forever and they'd never get to hunt again.

Never get to run.

Wait.

Was he whining?

Cage rolled his eyes at himself and started pacing again, pleased that, if he was whining, at least

it wasn't out loud.

Much.

Roman glanced up from the book he was reading. "Are you needing a good beating, Cub?" The

teasing light in those eyes told him that would never happen, but that Roman was ready to play.

He bared his teeth a little, nostrils flaring as the scent of his mate hit him. Good. So good.

"Uh-huh." The book went flying and Roman came at him, looking like a blur of denim and

flannel, big hands reaching for him. Cage feigned a move to the right, then scrambled left,

knowing Roman would catch him, cover him. He didn't have to make it easy, though. He felt Roman slide by, those thick wool socks making for great slippage. The look on Roman's face was priceless, all goofy surprise. He hooted, grabbed Roman's ass as the man slid by. Woo! He won!

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The crash when Roman went down wasn't so amusing, but the kicking feet and cursing? Hoo

yeah. That was hilarious.

"You... you okay?" He went to check, chuckling, reaching down to help Roman up.

"Uh-huh." Roman grabbed him, quick as a snake, and hauled his ass down on the floor, rolling to

cover him. Oh, sneaky asshole. Always turning things to his advantage.

"Bastard." He nipped Roman's jaw, heading for that tanned throat.

"Yup." Cutting him off, Roman kissed him, licking his lower lip and holding him close. Yum.

His hands slid down Roman's spine, rubbing and rolling, massaging all the way down.

His.

Mate.

Growling happily, Roman let the kiss go on and on, pushing it until they had to break apart,

gasping for air. He actually had little sparkles in his eyes, things swimming for a moment.

"Mine, Cage." Roman's voice sounded blown, rough and ragged, all for him. That long cock was

hard against his belly, even through stiff denim, poking and prodding.

"Yours. Want." He lifted his chin, baring his throat for his mate, his Roman.

"Yeah, Cub. Cage. Too many clothes." Roman could go from playful to serious as a heart attack

in less than six seconds, and now the man was ripping at Cage's clothes, getting him to naked.

It was a pain in the ass to work Roman's jeans open, to push the fabric away and get the slap of

skin on skin. They managed it, though, both of them humming when their flesh met, both of

them groaning when they rubbed together. The biting and growling started as the heat grew,

Roman's skin going slick as they moved.

Roman touched him everywhere, all over, just exploring him until he thought he might explode.

Every scar got attention, just like before. These days he was proud of them; they had made him

strong enough to defend his home.

It didn't hurt that the different sensations -- sharp on his unmarked skin, distant and fuzzy on his

scars -- were enough to make him howl.

Grunting, Roman moved closer, more, licking and biting. They finally got completely naked

except for Roman's fuzzy socks, Roman spreading him so that dark head could come down, that

amazing hot mouth dropping on him like a ton of bricks.

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Cage howled, hips jerking, fucking Roman's mouth with a sheer desperation. Please. Yes. He. Oh. Uhn. Rough and wet, Roman's tongue worked the underside of his cock, rubbing up and down until he wanted to scream. Roman spread him with an iron grip, working down to lick his balls, rolling his sac, pushing them back and forth. He gave a sharp bark, just managing to warn Roman before his cock jerked, seed pouring from him in bone-rattling pulses. Chuffing, Roman licked him clean before rising up over him and grabbing his hand, putting it on that burning hot cock. "Babe. Please." He nodded, rubbing fast and hard, tongue wetting his lips as he watched the tip of Roman's cock move in and out between his fingers. "Uhn." Hips rocking, Roman moved and rocked and growled and loved on him, those dark, dark eyes watching him. His thumb rubbed the tip, spreading the wet heat around, pushing into the slit. The scent of Roman was everywhere around him, strong and male and rich, enough to make him whimper. When he pulled harder, his fingers closing hard against Roman's skin, he got a howl, those hips pushing Roman's prick into his hand. Roman came for him, hot and wet, Roman's eyes rolling back into his head. Licking his hand clean, Cage couldn't stop moaning at Roman's flavor, bitter and salty on his tongue. Roman joined him, tongue touching his on that strong hand for like, half a second before Roman kissed him, long and slow. Deep. Good. Mate. Oh. His fingers tangled in Roman's hair, holding them together as the kiss went deep. "Mmmm. Love you, Babe. Keeping you. Hear me?" Roman snuggled up to him, arms around him, holding him close. Safe. "Mmhmm. You have to. You like my house."

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About Our Contributors Sean Michael Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection, and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small, secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and pursuing the kama sutra by channeling the long-lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to "Chicago." A long-time writer of complicated haiku, currently Sean is attempting to learn the advanced arts of plate spinning and soap carving sex toys. Barring any of that? He'll stick with writing his stories, thanks, and rubbing pretty bodies together to see if they spark. BA Tortuga BA Tortuga enjoys indulging in the shallow side of life, with hobbies that include collecting margarita recipes, hot tub dips, and ogling hot guys at the beach. A connoisseur of the perverse and esoteric, BA's days are spent among dusty tomes of ancient knowledge, or, conversely, surfing porn sites in the name of research. Mixing the natural-born southern propensity for sarcasm and the environmental western straight-shooting sensibility, BA manages to produce mainstream fiction, literary erotica, and fine works of pure, unadulterated smut. With characters ranging from supernatural demons to modern-day cowboys, alternative illustrated men to Victorian dandies, the addiction to history and atmosphere is everpresent, and laced through with sensual pleasure.

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