Ruff Trouble Read online

  “Do you want me to stop?” Bobby whispered the softest sounding words yet.

  He must have given something away to make Bobby enquire, and Sam was grateful Bobby did. He wasn’t…scared…but knowing Bobby and Chantelle cared enough to check, made him feel safer. He managed a little shake of his head.

  When fingers pried gently at his mouth, Sam opened to them. They were the fingers of Bobby’s left hand and hadn’t been inside him. He tasted strawberry and, beneath, a not unpleasant but less pleasing tang of something musky, floral—the two oils they’d plied his body with. Not letting the taste deter him, Sam sucked on Bobby’s fingers the same way he would have done had they been the man’s cock.

  Maybe Bobby couldn’t help reacting. His hips took up a shallow mimic of the performance Sam wrought on Bobby’s fingers. The imitation soon had Sam trying his hardest to suck those digits deep. He bobbed his head, and at last heard a sigh instead of a chuckle. Sam sucked and licked. The delight of making Bobby respond to him almost took his mind off the tormenting swirl of Chantelle’s tongue. Didn’t she ever grow tired?

  “Suck on me,” Bobby told him at the same instant as he began a deeper rock of his hips. Pressed back against Bobby’s chest, Sam had no control of the movement, unable to return it, not to any degree. Yes, he might bow his spine, but the tilt provided the smallest of motions. Bobby had seen to that. Bobby had taken him in this position before, using Sam between them, ramming into Sam, driving him into Chantelle. This time her mouth instead of her sex worked his cock.

  She at last moved on from the spiralling torment, to using her mouth to cover his cock to the base, deep steady lunges timed to match Bobby’s pace. Either they were in tune on some level Sam didn’t understand, or they had discussed this beforehand; possibly both.

  The notion tore a laugh from Sam’s throat, made Bobby’s grip tighten, although Sam believed if his hold increased even one more notch, he wouldn’t be able to breathe, might break a rib.

  “You mine, Sam?” Bobby’s voice rasped next to his ear. Sam nodded but his response wasn’t good enough. Bobby shook him a little. “You…mine?” He punctuated both words with two vicious thrusts of his hips.

  “Y-yesssss,” Sam hissed, drawing off Bobby’s fingers.

  “Are you ours?”

  “Mmmmpfff.” Pleasure and—not pain. Discomfort, but not pain. Still, both the good and the bad—and even the bad was good—prevented him from speaking. Tears threatened, but they felt right too. “Yes.” Sam forced the word out.

  “Why do I not believe you?”

  Bobby’s question made Sam blink. What did Bobby mean? Why would the man doubt him? His horror must have shown on his face—an expression Bobby might view from the angle he had tilted Sam’s head—or maybe he picked up his emotions in his scent.

  “Sssshhhhh.” Bobby stretched out the sound. “I don’t mean it that way. If you’re ours, be ours. Trust us.”

  Sam wanted to say he did, but…he swallowed. Bobby must have felt the movement against his forearm. Bobby was telling him to trust them in everything. Reprimanded him for hiding his pain. For trying to be brave. For not seeking help when he needed it. Didn’t Bobby understand it wasn’t so simple? Sam hung without resistance in Bobby’s grasp, not knowing how to convey these things. Now was not the time. Now…he quaked.

  “Bobby.” Chantelle’s voice sounded gentle, but conveyed something. Sam guessed what.

  A moment later, Bobby spoke, again close to his ear, so the words vibrated against his skin. “Chantelle believes you’re close. Are you close, Sam?” He nodded, half knowing what Bobby would say, dreading it, and yet awaiting the command. Strange to be so conflicted and yet at peace all at once.

  “Not yet, Sam. When I say.” A touch of a hand cupping his cock and testicles, made Sam cry out. Bobby handled him as if weighing the goods. “Decent weight. Hot. Needy.” Sam closed his eyes. The words didn’t matter. The exchange ridiculous, but so sooooo good, it didn’t matter either. Bobby staked a claim he had no reason to petition for any more. Sam gave himself over to the other man, eager, running thoughts through his mind—the work these two had interrupted, the plans he had for the coming weeks leading to Christmas—anything mundane to take his mind off the growing need in his groin. A demand Bobby notched up with his hand and his cock.

  He knew his climax was coming, but when Chantelle’s mouth returned to his dick, Sam almost screamed. His balls boiled. Still Bobby gripped him.

  “Not yet.”

  A plaintive sound escaped his throat.

  “With me, Sam.”

  Sam writhed. As tight as Bobby held him, perspiration enabled him to twist.

  “Any. Minute. You. And. Me.”

  Bobby’s hot breath sent delightful and painful snags straight to Sam’s testicles.

  “Together. Any…moment…” Bobby’s voice sounded strained. His movements, all too familiar, told Sam how close he was—but no way for Sam to hold back.

  “Can’t.” He spoke a warning. An apology. The kiss on his temple told him it was all right. This was a game they played. As well, for Sam came, vibrating, helpless, unable to show any restraint. He wasn’t even aware when Bobby joined him. He came, long and hard, and was still coming in little aftershocks as Bobby moaned in his ear. He drifted, dazed, the moans becoming sighs, his name whispered.

  Loving hands moved him with care, laid him on the bed. Sam rested there, twitching, unable to do anything but greet the oblivion rushing to claim him, a vague awareness breaking through—Bobby had knotted inside him. The equivalent of the bulbus glandis in canines meant Bobby tied to him and would lie with him for some minutes. Smiling, Sam fell asleep, still stretched but replete.

  Chapter 3

  The stock book wasn’t the most interesting thing to peruse, but Bobby kept his gaze focused, ignoring Sam. He didn’t need to view Sam’s furious glare or even smell the anger emanating from him; had known what his reaction would be the moment he left the crutch by the side of the bed. He also knew Sam would ignore it and make his way downstairs unaided.

  The seconds ticked by until Sam snapped. “Was it supposed to be some kind of joke?”

  “No, and you know it.” Bobby frowned at the invoice in his hand. “Plastic mistletoe? Seriously? We can’t have the real thing?”

  “Health and Safety doesn’t approve of real mistletoe where drinks and food are served. The poisonous factor.”

  Health and Safety likely didn’t approve of kissing either, in which case they definitely wouldn’t endorse the image Bobby now had of Sam, naked, laying atop the bar, or what he had it in mind to do to him in the position. The vision gave him an instant hard-on, so he catalogued the idea away to try some other time.

  “It might not last anyway and be more expensive. We don’t need the real thing, same as I don’t need a crutch.”

  “Sometimes you do.” The words came out too harsh. Bobby almost wanted to take them back. Almost. Maybe he shouldn’t. Maybe being a little cruel would do Sam good. He heard Sam’s intake of breath but ignored it. “I thought we’d got over this.”

  “You mean I’m to accept you being in charge? And didn’t you show it with the little display last night? What was that? What is this ‘when I say’ business, anyway?”

  “Used to be you liked it.”

  “Used to be you didn’t use it so much.”

  Bobby blinked pen in hand poised an inch from the page. He set the implement down. “I hadn’t thought about it to be honest, but you may have a point.” He gazed along the length of the bar. The bar and restaurant didn’t open until twelve for the lunchtime crowd. Staff would arrive between ten and eleven. The hour was early; for now, they were alone. A fact which also seemed to occur to Sam.

  “Where’s Chantelle?”

  “Gone running.” Bobby smiled at the frown that flickered across Sam’s face. “Animal form. We neglected her last night. She needed to work off excess energy.”

  “I’m surprised you didn’t go with her. That yo
u’re not…”

  “Not what? And come over here. Sit. Have some coffee. It’s a fresh pot. The breakfast rolls are warm.”

  Coffee and Chantelle’s homemade breakfast rolls were guaranteed to entice Sam to take the weight off his leg. Sure enough, Sam’s nose lifted a few degrees as if he smelled the warm bread even before Bobby lifted the cover off the basket. Baked goodness and the scent of cinnamon—a hint of Christmas right there—wafted out as Sam moved near, choosing a seat next to Bobby on the public side of the bar. He reached for a roll while Bobby poured coffee and pushed the cup across. He let Sam nibble and take a swig before he spoke. “What do you think I should be doing?”

  Sam took another mouthful of drink, no doubt allowing himself time to ponder. “Do you ever…I mean, in your animal form?” A faint flush swept his skin.

  “Have sex?” The question both surprised and amused. He waited for Sam’s nod, although he knew he’d guessed right. “We have. Does it bother you?” While this seemed like a change of subject, Bobby let Sam take the conversation where he willed, even though he appeared to struggle. “You can say anything, ask me anything. You know, right?”

  “Are you sure?” Sam sounded less convinced. “I’ve heard one should let sleeping dogs lie.”

  Bobby stared at Sam until he flushed although he was smiling. “Yes. I’m sure.”

  This time, Sam blinked. “I was…wondering…” He took a breath, his chest rising, the air whispering deep into his lungs. He cast a sideways look at Bobby. “I’m afraid to mention it and scared not to. I’ve…wondered, sometimes, if you’re sorry I’m not…That I can’t change too. I mean if sometimes…Well, if you’ve ever wanted to…” He was definitely blushing. “You know, with me…when you’re…” Sam made a helpless gesture with his hands.

  “Oh!” Realisation dawned along with surprise. “Why? Do you want to?”

  “No!” Sam’s blush deepened, becoming a fiery hue. “That is…I don’t believe I could, but it feels as if maybe I’m not accepting part of what you are, if you wanted to…and I refused.”

  Smiling, Bobby reached out, hooked a hand around Sam’s neck, and brought his face closer to kiss him on the cheek. “You’re an idiot.”

  “Thanks.”

  The sarcasm made Bobby laugh. “A sweet idiot. If you paid attention, you’ll notice I said Chantelle and I have had sex in our animal form. I didn’t say we do it all the time or often. Frankly, our minds are more human than an animal, and we prefer sex in our human shape, although a female dog’s clit is inside her. Did you know?”

  “Er…no.” Several thoughts appeared as twitches passing across Sam’s face as he digested the implications.

  “Well, it makes it more fun for Chantelle than for me, but, even so, she likes to mate as a human more, the same way I do. And before you ask, or in case it’s ever crossed your mind, we’ve never done it with one of us in one form and one in the other. It holds no appeal. In animal form, we can find each other attractive. In human form, we still love and appreciate our animal halves, but we don’t find them arousing. I’m not saying it’s the same for all shifters, but that’s how it is for us. Do you get my drift?”

  “I guess. It makes sense, in a way.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  “I feel a bit of a plonker for mentioning it now.”

  “No need. I’m touched you considered it.” True, but Bobby couldn’t resist teasing. “What would you have done if I’d said I’d been dying to take you doggy style—for real?” It took a great deal of effort for Bobby to keep his lips straight, not to burst out laughing, but Sam still took one look at his face and thumped him.

  “Take the piss out of the human, why don’t you?”

  “I’m not. Not really. And to answer you fully, yes, I do wish you could shift with us sometimes, but it’s because I wish you were able to run with us. I would give you that freedom.”

  The set expression returned to Sam’s face. He slipped off the seat, took a couple of steps along the bar, before Bobby caught up to him and trapped him there. His expression was exasperated but his scent came across as resigned. Sam tried a couple of pushes to make Bobby move before giving in. “I’m sick of you being stronger than me.”

  “Do you mean in general, or are you still moping about your leg? Sam, it wouldn’t hurt you to use a crutch once in a while. It wouldn’t belittle you to ask for help.” Sam twisted his face every which way, but Bobby wasn’t going to let him avoid the issue so easily. He took hold of Sam’s chin, forced him to face him. “I know how you must feel.”

  “Don’t be fucking patronising.”

  Mentally counting to ten, Bobby tried again. “Fine. I can imagine. For someone like me who can run with four legs, you’ll have to take my word even if I’m imagining a fraction of how bad it would be, I get it’s pretty bad.” He let go of Sam’s jaw and waited. It took a minute for Sam to reply, but not with anything Bobby expected.

  “I can take the pain,” Sam blurted out. “I want to be fit and healthy for you guys. You don’t know…You just don’t know. I want to be fit and well to run by your side in human form even if I can’t shift. I want to…Oh, I don’t know. Be your equal in bed. Only that’s not it either.”

  “Sam, you are. If I’m pushing the dominant thing a bit, it’s play. I didn’t mean anything by it. Okay, maybe I did,” he admitted when Sam looked at him, “but that’s the dog in me. It has nothing to do with how I feel about you. I don’t view you as…” He stopped speaking.

  “Weak?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “You thought it.”

  Bobby took a breath. “The man in me doesn’t see you as weak.”

  “And the husky?”

  “I’m not just my animal, Sam.”

  “And I’m not just a man with a limp.”

  “Of course you’re not. You’re—you. And mine. Ours.” His words appeared to surprise Sam, take the fight out of him.

  “You’re hers.” Sam spoke without bitterness. “Chantelle sought you out.”

  Bobby nodded. “She did. She wanted a mate, so she searched for one strong enough.” Bobby stared out the window, suspecting he came across as a little shell-shocked by the idea. “She didn’t expect to find what she looked for within the police force, but when she did, she manoeuvred herself in my path.”

  Sam knew some of the story. They were animals. They were pack. Though Alpha’s needed to establish their own place in the world, they sought commitment, companionship. Chantelle, alone in the world after the last of her family died, had struggled with the compulsion to find her soulmate. The impulse didn’t mean she’d accept just anyone; she’d searched long and hard. The fact she’d chosen Bobby, and he had at once recognised her as his perfect match was miraculous in his eyes. Yet, she might not have been in the right place if not for Sam’s injury, a fact that brought about conflicting emotions. Destiny was a strange thing. If Sam’s leg hadn’t been injured, he might not be sitting with Bobby now.

  Bobby had a family but at first his own search for a mate had taken him out into the world, and then his job kept him away. Sam hadn’t asked and Bobby hadn’t shared much about that. Maybe one day he would, but the right time hadn’t arrived yet. Alpha’s didn’t usually take their females home until or unless they were ready to wed and their jobs had complicated that possibility. Now Bobby and Chantelle could marry, but there was Sam. Bobby and Chantelle both wanted to wait until Sam had been with them a good while, fearing if they wed, he’d feel even more like a third wheel. Although they’d accept him, Bobby wouldn’t tell his family about Sam until Sam was ready.

  “I’ve considered the implications, of the effort she went to, and what it must mean to you. Of how I must be so…different…in comparison.”

  Sam said different, but Bobby suspected he’d been going to say small or insignificant.

  “If someone thought so highly of me, it would mean everything.” The way Sam talked, voice soft, he sounded as if he hadn’t meant to say
that aloud.

  “Sam. You are thought of highly. You do know how I feel, don’t you? And what you said about being afraid, of not being accepted…Don’t you see the same applies to you? Hiding your pain from me, it’s like you believe I’ll think less of you, love you less, because of it. You must know that’s not true.”

  “We don’t share emotions. You and I. Not the way I share with Chantelle or you share with her.”

  He had a point, though Bobby found it easier with Chantelle because they both picked up emotions in their sense of smell.

  Giving Sam a wry twist of a grin, Bobby said, “Hey. This old dog struggles to learn new tricks, but it doesn’t mean I’m not willing to try. I’m a guy and part animal—far too much testosterone going on here. I know I don’t tell Chantelle I love her enough either. Of course, with us, we can smell how we feel about each other.”

  “Wish I could.” Sam’s hands had taken to wandering over Bobby’s sides.

  “Wish you could what?”

  “Smell feelings, emotions. It must be amazing to be so sure.”

  “I’m not saying it’s fool-proof. I didn’t work out what you were feeling. I can’t always figure you out now.”

  “Allow a man a bit of mystery.”

  “With my blessing, but you don’t have to hide your pain for that.”

  Had he got through to Sam? On some level perhaps, but Sam was stubborn. Time meandered on. “Maybe I should find Chantelle.”

  “You should have gone running with her.”

  “I don’t always want to change in the morning.” Bobby looked to the bright but chill day outside. “I prefer to run at night.” Early or late was safer. They weren’t wolves, so if someone spotted them they were less likely to create panic, but still, someone might call the police to report a stray dog. Not to be carted off, they’d have to change, and risk getting picked up for being a naked human in the woods. Tough choice.

  “True. But we both know that’s not why you stayed behind.”