Ira rasped his nails against the cool metal of the table. Isaiah knelt at his side, shaking. A golden cuff sat tight just below his knee and above his calf; a thin, snake like golden train ran from the cuff to the leg of his solid wooden chair.
Isaiah was a gift from his mother, a slave to sate his taste in private. The only problem was Isaiah didn’t want to sate his taste. The man was terrified of him, of everything really. This wouldn’t do.
Ira had to think of something to win his new slave over.
Hal couldn’t move. Everything hurt. He was dead. For sure.
What the fuck happened last night? Did he cliff dive off a roof into a wet concrete tub? Jesus H. Christ.
He was definitely dead.
“Ugh!” Hal felt like telling Huxley to shut the fuck up and eat shit but his voice box was only capable of one thing. “Ugh.”
Something moved underneath him. “You’re on my leg. Get up.” That explains it. “Hal.” Huxley warned but he sounded just as fucked up as he felt. Least Huxley could form actual words instead of caveman grunts.
“Up or I’ll kiss you again.”
“What?!” Hal popped up, popcorn and chicken feathers went flying. Chicken feathers? He didn’t own a chicken. Nobody he knew owned a mother fucking chicken.
Huxley rolled and fell from the bed with a very audible ‘cunt bitch fuckery.’ The mouth on that bastard. His mouth… A flash of the night before came to him. Full lips moistened by a licking tongue looked downright delicious. The crowd around them counted down to the New Year.
“Happy New Year!” Shouts, catcalls, and various articles of all sorts of shit went flying. People were pairing off for their good luck New Year’s kiss. He leaned in to find soft lips kissing him back. The kiss deepened into something that could lead to rutting sex behind a building somewhere.
Huxley calling his name brought him back. “We kissed.”
Hal smirked. “Wanna do it again?”
Huxley smiled then ruffled his hair. “Shower and teeth brushing first.”
“How about teeth brushing then shower together?”
Gunner stood in the locker rooms, hands in his pockets, mouthing a cough drop. He was taking on a new charge, a Grizzly bear named Gustave. Others had tried but the animal had hardly moved since his arrival two weeks ago. All vet checks had come back normal.
He was brought in to help with Gustave. If he couldn’t then the animal might not survive.
A door slammed somewhere else in the facility breaking Gunner from his thoughts. He made his way from the locker room to the bear enclosures. Gustave was easy to spot. The bear didn’t move except for his breathing.
Gunner stepped inside and ignored the women trying to talk to him about Gustave. “Give me a minute.” He told her and stepped away. Gunner wanted a few minutes with the bear.
Gustave took a heavy breath. His large head lifted and his black eyes bore into Gunner’s sole. “Hi.” He said. Something, a glimmer of knowing, brightened Gustave’s eyes. “You’re a Grizzly and I’m a Kodiak. What are you doing?” Something woodsy with a hint of cottonwood tickled his nose. Gunner’s inner bear fought to come to the surface. “You are not allowed to sit here and die.” It’s not fair to make me watch my mate die. He sent mentally.
Gustave shook his head then stood. My mother passed away. In my grief I did some stupid things.
Gunner wanted to rub against Gustave and hunker down in a cuddle pile. I’m sorry.
Not your fault. Help me?
I will do everything in my power to get you out of here.
“Gunner?’ The woman prodded from across the room. I’ll be back.
Gunner walked away leaving a portion of his heart behind.