How to Howl at the Moon (25 page)

Lance was braced above Tim on his arms, and he made a funny sound at the touch of Tim’s long-fingered hand. He closed his eyes, as if savoring it. So Tim stroked him with what he hoped was finesse, rubbing Lance’s frenulum through the condom and sliding his foreskin over and off the plump head. Lance’s eyes squeezed tighter shut, and his hips started moving a little, his
breathing growing ragged. Imagining what Lance was feeling, Tim's own cock pulsed in sympathy.

“Now, baby,” Tim said. He didn’t want to stop touching Lance, but he knew if he didn’t, they’d never make it to penetration.

Lance opened his eyes, locked them on Tim’s, heaved a deep breath in through his nostrils, and guided himself into place. Poised at the entrance, he placed his hands on the back of Tim’s thighs once more, rolling him up so that Tim was more open and displayed than anyone with a teeny tiny crumb of modesty could feel comfortable with, and all Tim could think of was
now
.

Tim didn’t trust his voice so he nodded. And Lance sank in.

Despite the fact that he was significantly larger than the device Tim was used to, he met with little resistance. He was sucked intractably inward as if Tim’s body was absorbing him in a way much deeper than mere sexual penetration.

When he was sunk to the root, Lance ground against Tim, as if he could get deeper still. His intense blue eyes were fixed on Tim’s face, and there was a sheen of delighted wonder over his entire aspect.

“You like this?” Lance asked him, as if he could hardly believe it.

Tim answered sincerely. “I love it.”

“Me too.”

“Then do it.” What he really meant was
Take me like you mean it, take me like you own me
. And maybe Tim didn’t have the balls to say it, but he didn’t need to, because Lance seemed to read it on his face.

He pushed Tim’s thighs in closer to his chest, forcing him
almost
past the point of comfort, and then he drew out and slammed back in, repeating the motion again and again while pinning Tim with the intensity of his gaze. One hand kept Tim canted upward while the other grabbed Tim’s cock, not stroking it but loosely squeezing, so that the motion of their fucking shifted it in his fist in a delightfully filthy way.

Mine
, Tim imagined Lance saying, and then, as the assault on the sensitive tissue of ass and cock grew into a triumvirate of
too much
,
oh god more
, and
I’m going to come
, he realized he
was hearing the word for real. Lance was chanting it under his breath with every thrust, and growing louder.

“Mine
.
You are, aren’t you?”

“
Yes
.”

They were both so close. Tim felt the pleasure building to the point of no return, and he could feel the tremor in Lance’s thrusts and in the clenched ecstasy on his face. In an instant, Tim pulled his thigh away from Lance’s hand, put his feet on Lance’s chest and pushed him back, forcing him to pop free.
Ow.

Lance stared at him with surprise. “Those feet are dangerous.”

“Wanna finish like this.” Tim flipped onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto hands and knees. He was too far gone to feel self-conscious about his desire, and he wanted this, wanted Lance covering him with his hand tight around Tim’s cock from behind.

Lance said nothing, but he took position fast, pushing back in with tormenting slowness, causing them both to groan at the intense sensation on their hypersensitized bits. He allowed Tim to pull his hand around, and fingers entwined, they both gripped Tim’s painfully swollen cock.

“I need to come,” Tim gasped.

“Got this,” Lance gritted out, his voice tortured.

He slammed into Tim again and again, no finesse now, just pure instinct. Tim tilted his hips just right to get Lance rubbing his prostate with every in and out. It was blindingly good and as intense as anything Tim had ever felt in his life. It was as intense with
good
and
pleasure
and
connection
as anything in his life had ever been bad, as if everything that had led up to now, no matter how shitty, had been worth it just for this moment here.

As he trembled on the brink, Tim remembered that he wanted this to be forever in a way that no one could take from him, so he raised his shoulders slowly, clasping Lance’s other hand where it was fixed on his hip to show he didn’t want to stop, and straightened until both of them were on their knees. He squeezed where he and Lance were stroking his cock and pushed back into Lance’s chest, tilted his neck to the side to bare it.

Lance took the hint and closed his mouth over the tendon there, sucking hard and gently
biting as he thrust. And that was how bliss found them as they both dove off the cliff together.

They lay on the bed like broken toys for a time, Tim on his stomach, smushing come into the sheets, and Lance on his back with both legs and one arm thrown over Tim’s body.

“I need to find and burn all your Twilight books,” Lance said at last.

“Team Jacob,” Tim muttered, drooling onto his pillow a bit. He managed to raise a less than enthusiastic fist of solidarity. He didn’t need to tell Lance he had never owned nor read a Twilight book. His little garage apartment had been rigged into Marshall’s HBO.

“I suppose I should be grateful you were mentally prepared.”

Tim snorted. “For you?” He turned his head on the pillow so he could take in the gorgeous, naked man in his bed. His cock looked succulent where it rested
limp
on his thigh. “Hate to break this to you, but nothing could have prepared me for you, big guy.”

Lance’s blue eyes were soft for once. He ran a slow finger down Tim’s spine.

“Yeah? So are you Team Lance now?”

Tim just blinked sleepily at him. He wanted to say
I hope you meant all that bonding shit, because I won’t give you back, ever.
But he figured that would sound needy. Besides, the way Lance was looking at him practically said the same thing.

Renfield scratched at the bedroom door and whined.

“There are two chicken dinners sitting in a brown bag on your kitchen counter,” Lance pointed out. “I think Renfield’s tired of waiting for his share.”

“Race ya!” Tim said, sitting up eagerly.

“I’m not
racing
you. I’m—”

But Tim was already out of bed. He flung open the bedroom door and ran for the kitchen, naked and laughing.

He could hear Lance’s bare feet as they pounded after him and the sound of his laughing growl.

Attack

“STOP!” Tim yelled with horror as Lily trod right through his row of baby lettuces.

Lily stopped moving and looked down at where she was standing. The infant leaf of a ruby red lettuce peeked out from under her shoe like the Wicked Witch of the West after Dorothy’s house fell on
her
. “Oh. Sorry! I saw a rabbit.”

Tim marched down the aisle between the mounded rows and grabbed her elbow. “Out! You are hereby banished from the field. I mean it! Don’t make me get you one of those invisible fence and collar thingys.”

He steered her clear of the plants, marched her between the rows, and shoved her onto the grass beside the field.

“But I can help weed!” Lily complained.

“You pulled up all my radishes yesterday. No more ‘weeding’ for you!”

Gus chuckled. He was among the young green pea shoots fixing a frame made from PVC pipes and nylon mesh so the peas could climb. Unlike Lily, Gus seemed to really enjoy gardening work, and he was very diligent about following Tim’s instructions. Tim had learned that Gus was a bulldog that had gotten ‘the spark’ and was new at this whole human thing. Even though Tim couldn’t pay him right then, Gus wanted to learn and he was a sweet, agreeable guy to have around. Lily, on the other hand….

“Black thumb,” Tim pointed at Lily. “Banished. Sorry.”

“But I want to help!” Lily pouted. “I need to help you, Tim. I
owe
you, and you’re practically my son-in-law! That’s what families do!”

Tim still hadn’t completely forgiven Lily for stealing his seed trays. But at the mention of family, Tim went a little gooey in the center.

“Okay. What about this. Can you make up a few buckets of compost tea in the greenhouse? And then maybe you can help with dinner. Lance said he’d be done with work early tonight so he should be here any minute.”

“Fine,” Lily sniffed. Then her eyes narrowed and darted around the grass. “Rabbit!” And she was off. Renfield had been panting in the shade of a nearby tree, but he bounded after her as if it was a game.

Tim took off his gardening gloves and stuffed them into the belt he wore with his assorted plant markers, twine, and tools. He stood and looked over the field.

The plants he’d managed to salvage were all in the field now along with rows of lettuces, peas, and green beans, all planted directly into the ground. There was still a lot of empty space, but it was room to grow. He went to check on the roses.

Tim had planted the traumatized rose seedlings that had escaped ‘the night of
the broken glass’ in a plot in front of the cabin, making Linda a little rose garden. Of the hundred or so rose hip seeds he’d lovingly set to germinate, only twenty now lived, and he had no idea what was what since all of his markers had been thrown about and misplaced that night. About half the plants had at least one small bud. He’d give them more compost tea today and keep his fingers crossed. It was a little like opening an unmarked treasure box. Odds were low he’d get the lavender-tipped cream Linda was looking for, but he hoped there’d be something nice enough to assuage her and his own sense of responsibility for the rent.

Lance’s cruiser pulled up in the driveway. Tim straightened and smiled. It had only been two weeks since they’d gotten together for real, but it felt like a lifetime. Or rather, it felt like a lifetime about to be lived, like a huge boulder poised to roll down a hill—unstoppable and terrain-altering.

“Hey.” Lance approached him wearing those mirrored shades, a day’s stubble, and a
serious glower. But when he reached Tim, he wrapped his arms around Tim’s waist and lifted him off the ground, swinging him around.

“Show off,” Tim snorted, despite his huge, world-eating grin.

“Mmmm. Mine.” Lance nuzzled Tim’s neck and gave it a play bite. He still teased Tim about the werewolf stuff, but Tim knew he secretly liked it as much as Tim did.

“I asked Lily to make dinner, but she chased off a rabbit instead. She may not be back before dark.”

“If we’re lucky. Maybe the rabbit’s migrating through. Maybe she’ll chase it all the way to Alaska.”

“A Canadian snow rabbit? We can only hope.”

Lance put Tim down and backed up, his face stony again.

“What is it?”

Lance took off his glasses and tucked them away. His eyes avoided Tim’s gaze. “I have to work tonight. The DEA is doing a sting on that cannabis farm in Coarsegold, and they asked me to be on-site. They’re hoping to identify the men who shot this place up.”

“But you never saw the men,” Tim said, his heart rate ratcheting up instantly.
And I don’t want you anywhere near that.

“Roman saw them. He’s going to be there too, and I should be with him. Besides, this is my sting since I reported it.”

Tim knew Lance had been working with the DEA since the night of the shooting. But he hadn’t expected it to boil down to direct confrontation.

Lance must have read his fear, because he put a hand on Tim’s shoulder. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. The DEA will have SWAT there to secure the place. I won’t be in the fire fight.”

“But you could be. You’ll have your gun, and you’ll be right there. I know you. If you sense an opening, or that someone is hurt, you’ll run right into it—like Lily goes after rabbits.”

Lance smiled. “I promise, I won’t go after the drug dealers the way Lily goes after rabbits.”