“Terry? Really? This looks a little…” Robin looked at the building out in the middle of the sticks, its neon light blinking Cat House over and over and over in a sickening, faded pink. It looked like Deliverance meets Porky’s, and he was fairly sure his Polo shirt and khakis were not standing dress code here.
“Hey, everyone local says this is the bar to go to -- cold beer, great burgers, decent live music on the weekends.” His boss grinned at him, obviously totally unaware that this was a guarantee to get both of their incredibly gay asses handed to them on a shovel.
“Sure. Locals who aren’t big gay daddies like you or weird little gay dudes like me.”
Terry rolled his eyes. “We have to be here working for how long, oh keeper of the schedule?”
“Six to eight weeks. This whole resort thing isn’t a little job.”
“Exactly.” They glanced at each other, then cracked up, both of them knowing how the other felt about pouring cash into a resort out here in east Bumble Fuck.
“Come on. If I get my ass kicked, you’re totally footing my plastic surgery bill.”
“I can do that.” Terry clapped him on the back, the touch totally non-sexual. Damn it.
Not that he was totally into Terry, but sometimes he wanted someone to notice him, damnit. Terry was a great guy, hot as hell, and queer. So what was he? Chopped liver?
And why did chopped liver get the bad rap? Pâté was expensive and fancy -- foul as fuck, but expensive and fancy.
“Focus, Robin. Ready to get a burger?”
He nodded. “Sure. Let’s do it.”
Guacamole and bacon. Please let there be guacamole and bacon. Even in nowhere Carolina they did that these days.
“Hey, boys.” A hot young man in a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt that read “Catting Around” met them at the host stand. “Two?”
“Please.” Terry looked at the guy like he was lunch.
Robin rolled his eyes, following along.
Robin settled on the bench across from Terry. The menu looked promising, as did the craft beers. Who knew? Maybe he needed to be more open-minded. Maybe he just needed a beer. And score, there was a bacon and guac burger. Woo.
“They have some decent beers. I approve.”
Terry nodded and rolled his eyes. “Didn’t I tell you?”
“Yeah, yeah.” He glanced around. “The outside keeps the inside’s secret.”
“That’s it. This place has its charm.”
It did. Oddly. He glanced around, noting not many customers were in yet. “Uh-huh.”
“Don’t be a snob, Robin. Did you see that hot little bottom boy who seated us? Uhn.”
“Listen to you!” Christ.
“Sorry. Inspiring.” Terry chuckled. “I get it. Down boy.”
“That’s right.” Was it bad form to call your boss a perv?
“Black and bleu burger for me,” Terry told the same little boy who’d seated them. “And a raspberry wheat.”
“Guac and bacon and… do you have a good bockbier?”
“Yep. Shiner, Anchor or our own, which is called Hops Scotch.”
“I’ll try yours.”
The little hottie did a sexy dance. “Would you like a sample? If you hate it…”
“Then I can have Shiner, right?”
“Absolutely.”
“Thanks.”
Mr. Hottie McHotpants wiggled off and Terry chuckled softly. “You think he’s cute too.”
“He’s flirting. How can I not think he’s adorbs?” Did he just say adorbs? To Terry? “I need to hit the head, I think. Too much time in the car.”
“Uh-huh. Sure. Right. Too much time in the car…”
“What?” His cheeks heated. “We didn’t get to stop at the hotel.”
“Go on, man. You’re cute as hell.”
“Shut up.” He honestly just had that conversation with his boss. He really did just want to go to the bathroom, so Robin headed off. And if he had to splash some cold water on his face, so be it.
Really, he was feeling more tired than anything. He’d spent the last two months trying to buy a house and, since he hadn’t found one before this job showed up, but his lease was up, he’d moved everything into one of those pod things and he was fucking exhausted. Now he was living out of a suitcase for two months…
He peed and washed and splashed, and he walked out of the bathroom just in time to see the two guys entering the bar through the front door.
Lord, now those two were the polar opposite of Mr. McHotpants. They looked like two rednecks looking for an ass to kick -- broad-shouldered and rough-edged. One was all golden hair and green eyes, his beard more hipster than hillbilly, but still very masculine. The other had hair just a shade darker, a little overlong, and bright golden eyes. Had to be contacts. Had to.
His heart kicked into high gear because the testosterone was flowing like cheap beer on game night. Damn.
He totally needed to get laid. Not here, not now, but when they got back to Dallas? He was going to hook up.
The two pretty men turned as one to stare at Robin, the laser focus of their eyes enough to make his cock rise and his pulse speed up ridiculously.
Whoa. No eye contact. No fighting. None. He didn’t have a death wish. Robin ducked his head and moved to sit with Terry again.
“You okay?” Terry asked. “You’re all red.”
“I splashed my face.”
“Did you jack off in there?”
“What? No!” Robin hunched his shoulders when the whole place turned to stare. “What the heck has gotten into you?”
“Humidity, no doubt.” Terry’s grin held the very devil.
“Well, quit it. You’re my boss and that’s weird.”
“Sorry.” Terry held up his hands, all sober and sad. “I’ll be good, I swear.”
“Good. Christ on a crutch.”
“What do you want from me, man?” Terry sighed. “That last negotiation was a bitch, and I want to blow off steam. What happens here stays here.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been a long few weeks, you know?” Insane, more like it.
“I know. Have a beer, man. Just chill. I’ll shut up about sex.” Terry grabbed his glass. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.” He leaned forward. “Let’s be honest, I haven’t been the luckiest guy on earth, lately.”
“No? Well, maybe your luck is about to change.”
He had no idea what that meant and, when his burger arrived, it didn’t matter. Bliss. Bacon. Guacamole with just a bit of kick.
Okay, Terry was completely forgiven. Totally.
The fries were even crisp, salty, and perfect. Like Belgian chips, kinda. Uhn.
He scarfed them up, utterly happy. Who needed sex? This was so much less complicated.
Terry ate, then ordered a crazy fried cheesecake thing for them to share. He wasn’t gonna say no. He did love cream cheese.
They shared it, plus one more beer each. Delicious.
By the time they paid their tab, a band was setting up on a tiny stage in the back of the room, and Robin half expected the redneck boys to be in it. They weren’t. They were sitting in the other back corner. Staring. At him. Not Terry. Him.
Weird.
“So, do you think this band is worth staying for?” Terry asked. “We have tomorrow off, after all.”
“Oh. I don’t know. I mean, we could ask -- what was the waiter’s name?”
“Alain. With an ‘ai.’” Terry winked at him, that evil grin back in place.
“Seriously?” Was that a thing here? That seemed like a New Orleans name to him, not a Carolina name.
“Right? I swear, all he needs is a bandana hanging out of his back pocket.”
“I imagine that’s too far for this crowd.”
“You never know. I haven’t seen too many ladies tonight.”
Robin snorted. “Surely, this is too small town for a gay bar.”
“Maybe, but they might have a gay night. One of my college bars did that and, trust me, I went to an Ag school.”
“No shit? I’m impressed. I had to be careful at SMU, but there are places in Dallas to get your freak on.”
Terry laughed, drawing a few glances. Maybe he was right. This place oozed masculine sexuality. Hell, if that was the case --
“Where are you going?”
Glancing back over one shoulder, Terry winked. “To ask about the band. Be right back.”
Robin sat there at the table, trying not to draw anyone’s stare or do anything wrong. There were maybe three times the people in the bar now that there had been, and most of them were in flannel or leather or jeans with wallet chains.
It was like a wet dream come to life, really, assuming everyone was friendly.
“Hey there, kitty. What’s your name?” The two hot as hell guys from earlier appeared on either side of him, both settling on the bench Robin sat on.
He blinked. “Robin. Hey.”
“Robin, huh? I like it. I’m Casey. That’s Travis.” The golden one spoke, nodding over at the other guy when he made introductions.
“Pleased to meet you.” Now shoo. Off with you.
“Is that your boyfriend?” the other one asked. Travis. He had a voice like sandpaper over velvet. Rough and deep and oddly soft.
“He’s… What kind of question is that?” He wouldn’t even answer that.
“An important one if we want to take you out of here and get really busy.” Casey moved close enough that his breath stirred the hair on Robin’s neck.
Surely he hadn’t heard that correctly. Right? Because… Whoa.
Travis nodded easily. “You’re just our type, honey. We want to play.”
“Are you serious?” His cock went from soft to interested in seconds.
“Yep. I know, I know, you think we’re messing with you and that the rednecks want to bash, but it’s gay night here at the Cat House. We want you.”
Oh, Terry was totally fired. Totally. “I usually make a guy buy me a beer first.”
“We can do that if you want, but we can also just grab a six pack and go…” That was Casey, his green eyes seeming to glow bright for a moment. They had to be contacts. Had to be. Look at that color.
“I like that idea,” Travis murmured. “I’ll get the beer.”
“But Terry…”
“Oh, is that the guy you’re with?” Travis stared at Terry. “You can go for a ride with us. Your boyfriend won’t mind.”
“He might --” He was going to tell them Terry was his boss.
“It’s okay, baby doll. I’ll go ask him.”
That was pure wickedness. Damned if the devil didn’t get up and walk over to Terry.
Robin craned his neck to see what was going on, but Casey grabbed his hand. A jolt of electricity went all the way up his arm, and Robin gasped.
“Mmm. Pretty kitty. That’s the finest thing I’ve felt in a coon’s age.”
“Kitty?” That seemed like a weird come on, didn’t it?
“Mmhmm.” Casey reached behind him and found the hot spot in the small of his back unerringly, like there was a target drawn around it.
“Oh.” His mouth dropped open, his eyes crossing. “Do that again.”
“Mmhmm. I can do that. Damn, I can smell you, kit.”
“Do I stink?” He knew he should have insisted they stop at the hotel.
“Not even a little bit.” Wait. Wait, did someone just nibble him? Like on his neck?
“I got the beer.” Travis was the one behind him, licking at his nape. “And your boss said to go for it.”
“I --” His eyes crossed and he jerked, bucking up hard enough that his ass left the cushion.
“Sensitive.” Casey helped him stand, and they drew him toward the door.
“But I don’t… I don’t do this.” Had they drugged him? Was that it?
“No? Well, I got to tell you, kit, Travis and I have been together three years and we never wanted to play with anyone this badly.”
That touch came again, then again, the pressure making his mouth dry. Those clever fingers on his back, Travis’ hand up on his neck… They pushed and pushed until he was hard as a rock and sweating.
“Come play with us. We’ll turn you inside out.”
“Is that good? I mean, that sounds painful -- mph.” They got outside and Casey dragged him into the shadows beside the building, kissing his mouth until his ears rang.
He arched, his eyes rolling up in his head. Somehow he’d lost control of this whole evening.
* * *
Travis watched Casey kiss their new toy, his pulse thumping away in his cock. Jesus, that was pretty. Stunning, in fact.
They’d smelled the little one the second they walked into the club -- new and male, hungry and wanton. Someone needed to be fucked good and hard.
Casey spun the guy around, then reached for the beer. Woo. His turn. He didn’t wait for permission and he didn’t pussyfoot around. Heh. Pussyfoot. Travis just grabbed Robin’s upper arms and yanked him up against his chest. Then he took that mouth, tasting beer and Casey.
He pushed one leg in between Robin’s, nudging the man’s balls good and hard.
Robin went up on tiptoes, clinging to him. Oh, this one was on fire. They could do him right here in the parking lot and he wouldn’t peep in protest.
Travis glanced around. Okay, so maybe not do, but rev him up? Hell yes. They were classy enough that they didn’t do parking lot blow jobs. Usually. This guy could be an exception.
“Truck,” Casey said. “I want to put the beer down.”
“Uh-huh. Come on, baby. Let’s go play.”
Travis turned them toward the truck, and boom. There was the other guy from the bar, blocking the way.
“Sorry, fellas. I just realized the hotel is in Robin’s name. We need to go check in, buddy.”
“I-sure, boss. It is?” The little kit looked confused as all fuck and Travis had to fight his urge to snap. This one was theirs tonight, damnit.
“Yep.” Like nothing was going on at all, the Terry guy held out his hand. “I’ll drive. I think maybe you had one too many.”
“Do I have the keys for the rental? You drove here.”
Oh, this son of a bitch was poaching!
“Just come on.” The Terry guy could growl, and Travis looked at him again, appraising.
“We can drive him back to the hotel later,” Casey said. “If you’re really his boss, you can check in under his res.”
“I’m really his boss and if he really wants to keep his job, he’ll get his ass moving and not embarrass me anymore.”
Robin went pale as cream, the air just puffing out of the sexy little kit. “Right. Of course. Let’s go.”
Damn it. Travis couldn’t see making the guy lose his job. “Wait! Here. At least take my card.” Travis dug out his wallet, glaring at the big guy.
The big guy reached for it, and Travis shook his head. No way. No fucking way.
Robin glanced at his boss, then took the card. “Thanks. I -- Thanks.” He turned away, walking off with the Terry dude. Just like that.
“Motherfucker!” Travis spat. “What the fuck? I asked him if he was cool with it!”
“I guess he changed his mind.” Casey watched them go, then turned to kick a trash can sitting along the wall. “Damn it!”
“He’s…” The little beast oozed pheromones, blue eyes bright under a shock of raven-wing hair.
“Ours,” Casey finished. “That guy doesn’t even want him. There was no fury there. He’s just fucking with us.”
“Do we know where they came from?”
“Shit, we didn’t even get his number, T.”
“At least I gave him mine.” Travis tilted his head. “How many hotels do we have that they would stay at? We can at least get the hotel and their rental’s plate number.”
“Stalker much?”
Travis nodded firmly. “Yes.”
This one needed to be fucked and he wanted to be the one to do it. He wanted to find out what that scent was, find out why, as soon as he’d seen the shape of Robin’s face, he’d sprung wood.
He’d had that happen with Casey, but that was it. He hadn’t expected it to happen again and he sure as shit hadn’t expected Casey to have the same reaction.
This was worth chasing, worth the trouble. That Terry guy, well, he knew what he was. Travis got the feeling Robin had no idea.
He’d never seen one of their kind look so… flustered. Not even soaking wet. No, this was confusion, lack of knowledge. Now, how did a kitty shifter not know he was a cat?
“Talk to me, T. Before I go pick a fight with a bouncer for shits and giggles.”
“Huh?” He took Casey’s wrist and led his lover to the truck. “I think he’s clueless. I think the Terry guy knows. Maybe he thinks he’s protecting Robin, huh?”
“He can’t not know? We all know.” Casey popped the top on one of the beer bottles.
“But what if he doesn’t?” If he really thought about it…”He’s a city slicker. What if his people drugged him or something?” Or what if he hasn’t changed when he was supposed to and they thought it was kinder not to tell him?
“Wouldn’t it be weird? To shift in the city and have someone tranq you in the butt?”
“Fucking A. Maybe the city dampens an ability to shift.” How could being so far from the moon be good?
“Fuck if I know. Ask the boss man, huh?” Casey sighed. “So, there are five hotels in town, and only two are high-dollar enough for that rental car.”
“So we start with the Holiday Inn Express and then try the La Quinta. They’re here on some kind of corporate thing.”
Casey nodded, then grinned wickedly. “That’s it. We find him, see if he wants to have a chat in the lobby. Swim in the pool. Ice machine room blow jobs.”
“Right? His bossman never needs to know.”
“That’s it. And if he does, fuck him.”
Travis’ nose wrinkled instinctively. “I don’t love his scent, Case. That’s not going to happen.”
Casey shook his head. “Well, then, you could start with me. I’m so hard I hurt, lover.”
“Well, we’re in the truck. You want to drive out to the park? You want to go home?”
“Too many choices.” Casey sighed, and Travis laughed.
“Silly kit. I say park. It’s closer.” They lived out a ways, somewhere they could really be alone when they wanted to. No one would bother them at the park. Hell, the sheriff was Casey’s uncle.
They parked and Casey slid between him and the steering wheel, barely giving him time to put the seat back.
“Hey, Case.” He pulled his lover down, taking the kiss they both needed.
Casey kissed him right back, rubbing up and down on him, their whole bodies coming together. The clothes were just in the way, but this was the park. They had to stay mostly in place.
He managed to get Case unzipped and fish out that fat, fine prick, wrap his fingers around the shaft and tug.
Casey’s eyes rolled back. “Uhn. Travis. More.” His mate was so hot to the touch, really out of control. That whole thing where he’d gotten to kiss and touch Robin had really ramped him up. Travis had gotten a little less of that addiction, but that was okay. He could be ramped for his Case.
He moaned, stroking up and down quickly. The hot, thin skin, the heavy veins that stood out, the tight balls beneath; all of Case was perfect for him. And he knew what his lover needed and he intended to give it, all the way.
He lifted his lover a bit more, sliding his other hand down the back of Case’s open jeans. He wanted at that ass.
“Needy bastard,” Case teased, and he growled in response.
“Yes. So?”
“Not saying that’s a bad thing.” Casey wiggled, arching his back, which opened up the space he wanted to occupy.
He yowled softly and bit Casey’s bottom lip. By his tail and whiskers, he wanted to bury himself in Case and never come out.
“Okay.” Casey undulated for him like a dancer, panting. “Let me…” Casey grabbed his hand and stilled it, then rose up and turned, arms up on the steering wheel, head bent so he still fit.
“Oh.” Travis’ cock jerked in his jeans, rubbing the inside of the zipper. “Let me. Oh fuck. I’m gonna kill myself doing this.”
He tore at his fly, desperate to get his prick out.
“Breathe, lover. No death before we come.” Case moved into a better position, jeans slipping down to his thighs.
“Not before the little death.” He licked his palm and slicked his cock up. “You ready?”
“I am. Do it.”
That was the best thing about being a shifter. Physically, their pain threshold was way higher. They could do crazy things together.
“Love you.” He didn’t say it often but, before slamming into the tightest place on earth, it seemed logical.
Case yowled, hitting the headliner with his forehead. “Oh, fuck. Fuck, Travis. I love you.”
His balls pulled up so tight he whimpered, and Travis started thrusting. Friction. He needed it now. In fact, he needed everything Casey was willing to give. He grabbed Casey’s hips and moved his lover on his cock like a mad man.
Grunting, Casey clamped down on him, one hand on the dash, the other going down. Yeah. Every time Casey stroked his own cock, his ass went tighter on Travis.
“Good. Good, just like that.” He was caterwauling, his head thrown back, his hips punching up.
“Uh. Uh-huh. Faster.” Casey moved up and down, the sound of their bodies slapping so damned fine.
“Harder.” He could go faster. Hell, he could do anything Case needed.
They took and gave, both of them pushing so hard they might just launch into orbit. Damn. Soon.
“Yes.” A low sound filled the air, the roar loud enough to rock the truck.
The way Case squeezed him, there was nothing else Travis could do but come. He shot so hard he saw stars, his ears ringing with this white noise. Christ.
He was fairly sure he was broken. Like destroyed down to the bone. Burned to the fucking ground.
Casey snort-laughed. “Do we still have those wet wipes?”
“Glove compartment,” he wheezed.
“Oh good. I came all over the place.”
“Mmm. I had a nice, tight hole.” He slapped Casey’s hip.
“So did I, once upon a time…”
Travis hooted. “I have a big dick. Sue me.” He moved them, gently raising and lowering Casey so he slipped free.
“Eh, I know the kind of assets we have. Suing you does me no fucking good.”
“Mmm. Should we get food before we stalk?” They’d gone to the Cat House intending to get a burger, but they’d managed half a beer each.
“We totally should. That would give the boss man enough time to bawl our kit out and storm off.”
“Good point.”
Casey dug out the wet wipes and they cleaned up, then buttoned and zipped. With the fever burned out some, he felt a frisson of unease at the thought of hunting their kit so hard, but he also knew it was necessary.
He wasn’t sure why, but they weren’t much into deep thought, if he was honest. They functioned on instinct.
Casey scooted back to his seat. “Tacos?”
“Oh, hell yeah.” Crunchy, spicy, creamy -- all the best things.
“I’ll buy,” Casey said, and yeah, that had been a good orgasm.
“I’ll let you.” He smacked a kiss on Case’s lips.
“Good deal. Then we go do us some hunting, right?”
“Oo-eee! We got us a kitty-cat to find.” Travis got the truck headed to the late night lane at the Taco Bell. The mystery of the new kitty had to be solved, but only after food.
They had their priorities, didn’t they?