Rough in Wranglers

By BA Tortuga

Cowboys, blue-collar men, and hot redneck boys. One thing they all have in common is Wranglers, and they're all falling in love in this eight story collection. From Navy SEALs to rodeo riders to a food truck chef, all these men want is to find someone to share their lives with.

There are new lovers meeting for the first time, best friends who find out they have someone who loves them already when they think they'll never find happiness, and old lovers who've been apart for years but come back together at the best possible time. From the ski mountains of Colorado to deep in the heart of Texas, love finds a way through old hurts and through years of being apart.

There's nothing like a man in Wranglers and cowboy boots, and these stories prove it in every line!

Stories include:
Hey, Jealousy
Czech Me Out: An Austin Story
Worth the Work
Purgatory
Menagerie
Where There's a Will
Cut Bait
Unwrapped

• Language: English
• Publisher: Turtlehat Creatives
• Release date: Jul 6, 2021
• ISBN: 9781951532574

Book preview

Rough in Wranglers

Rough in Wranglers

BA Tortuga

Turtlehat Creatives

Contents

Rough in Wranglers

Hey, Jealousy

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Czech Me Out: An Austin Story

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Worth the Work

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Epilogue

Purgatory

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Menagerie

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Where’s There’s a Will

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Cut Bait

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Unwrapped

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Want More?

About BA

Afterword

Also Available from BA

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are 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 the publisher.

Rough in Wranglers

Copyright © 2008-2018 by BA Tortuga

1380 Rio Rancho Blvd #1319

Rio Rancho, NM 87124

Cover illustration by AJ Corza

Published with permission

ISBN: 978-1-942831-57-4

All rights reserved. No part of this eBook may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

Third edition.

First Edition of Hey, Jealousy published by Torquere Press, May 2011.

First Edition of Czech Me Out: An Austin Story published by Torquere Press, July 2014.

First Edition of Worth the Work published as Birthstones: Worth the Work by Torquere Press, September 2008.

First Edition of Purgatory published by Torquere Press, July 2005.

First Edition of Menagerie published by Torquere Press, May 2007.

First Edition of Where There’s a Will published by Torquere Press, October 2010.

First Edition of Cut Bait published by Torquere Press, December 2007.

First Edition of Unwrapped published by Torquere Press, December 2010.

Second edition 2018 by Dreamspinner Press Inc. Third Printing: November 2019

Printed in the USA

Created with Vellum Created with Vellum

Rough in Wranglers

\Cowboys, blue-collar men, and hot redneck boys. One thing they all have in common is Wranglers, and they’re all falling in love in this eight-story collection. From Navy SEALs to rodeo riders to a food truck chef, all these men want is to find someone to share their lives.

There are new lovers meeting for the first time, best friends who find out they have someone who loves them already when they think they’ll never find happiness, and old lovers who’ve been apart for years but come back together at the best possible time. From the ski mountains of Colorado to deep in the heart of Texas, love finds a way through old hurts and through years of being apart.

There’s nothing like a man in Wranglers and cowboy boots, and these stories prove it in every line!

Stories include:

Hey, Jealousy

Czech Me Out: An Austin Story

Worth the Work

Purgatory

Menagerie

Where There’s a Will

Cut Bait

Unwrapped

To Sean Michael

Hey, Jealousy

1

It wasn’t like JW’s best friend, Rory, not to answer his phone.

Even if the man had a new flame, which JW had to admit Rory had a lot of, he would answer JW’s calls. They did beer nearly every Saturday night, no matter what Rory was dating. JW didn’t have a lot of faith in Rory’s choices when it came to boyfriends.

JW had been trying to get Rory on the line since about eight in the morning, with no luck. He’d been on a three-day run, so he wanted Rory to know he was going to be back in town for that beer.

Now it was three in the afternoon, and JW hadn’t been able to catch up with his best buddy from high school, so he was using his spare key to let himself into Rory’s place to snoop around. The man’s truck was in the drive, after all, but the dogs were in the back, having a fucking fit. Rory loved those idiot beasts with a fiery passion. He wouldn’t ignore them, wouldn’t leave them out there to starve or nothin’.

Damn, he hoped nothing awful had happened to the man. That would be a waste of mammoth proportions.

Rory? You here, man?

He thought he heard something from the back of the house, a grunt, a rattle. Shit. Had one of the dogs gotten stuck back in the bedrooms? JW started checking doors.

He got all the way to the bedrooms down the main hall, when he tried Rory’s bedroom door. Locked.

What the hell? Rory would never lock the dogs out in the yard and lock himself in all day, even if he was sick or something. There had to be a problem.

He rattled the doorknob again, then heard an answering sound on the other side of the door.

Rory? He knocked this time, really announcing he was there in a formal way.

Okay, that was a muffled cry for help. He knew it. It was a desperate sound.

He looked at the door. It would be a matter of minutes to pick the lock. Took him two seconds to kick the soft spot next to the latch. What he saw when the door popped open, though, made him stop and stare.

Rory—wide-eyed and panicky—was cuffed to the bed, a big red gag in his mouth, one hell of a bruise on his jaw.

JW almost turned and left. The urge was that strong. What the hell was the guy thinking? Was this some kind of damned joke? Instead he went and pulled the gag out of Rory’s mouth. Where are the keys?

I hope they’re on the bedside table, but my wallet sure as shit isn’t. Rory’s voice was blown.

Christ. JW bit back everything he wanted to shout at the man and went to look for the keys. Screaming right now wouldn’t do any good. How long you been like this?

Too long. Rory wouldn’t look at him, wouldn’t raise that dark head.

Tell me, Ro. Oh, no. This was not gonna go down like Rory wouldn’t talk to him. He deserved better than that.

Before dark yesterday. Those poor cheeks were bright red, Rory about to lose his shit. It was easy to see. Tell me the fucking key’s there.

No. JW sighed, rolling his head on his neck. Let me look in the front room.

Rory had to be hurting and needing a bathroom and a drink of water. JW had bolt cutters in his truck if he couldn’t find the keys, so he would just make one trip.

When he went into the front room, he noticed that the TV was gone, the DVD player, Rory’s crappy old computer, even the man’s change jar. Fuck a duck. Everything of any kind of value was gone, and he wondered how he’d missed it the first time around.

He couldn’t find a key either. He ran out to his truck to get the bolt cutters, not wanting Rory to think he’d been abandoned again.

Fuck-a-doodle-do. He. This. Jesus.

JW shook it off and trotted back inside. No keys, buddy. Hold still so I can cut the chain.

Okay. Rory still wouldn’t look at him, but the man stayed stock-still, waiting on him to clip the chains on the cuffs. He had no idea how Rory was going to get the actual cuffs off.

Maybe a locksmith or a cop. Did they know any of those? He could call Jody Freeman, maybe. He’d been a deputy once. Surely guys like that still had keys to the cuffs.

There. Hit the head, huh? I’ll find your sweats.

’Kay. Rory stumbled off, bent over a little, hurrying.

Jesus Christ.

JW would offer to help, but he was afraid he’d do more harm than good. Man had to be sore.

He opened a top drawer—found lube, a plug, whoa. Some things should be private, right? He slammed that one shut, opened the bottom one. Bingo. Sweats. He pulled out a pair and sniffed, to be sure no one had done anything nasty to Rory’s clothes. It sounded ridiculous, but he hoped this was simply a robbery and not something more stalkery. Peeing on stuff took it to a whole other level.

They were clean, so he took them to the bathroom door, knocked, and Rory’s still-cuffed hand appeared.

You need anything? I can rustle up some eggs while you shower. His jaw hurt from not screaming. He wanted to shout until his ears rang.

I…. Those green eyes flashed up to him, then away, so ashamed. I’m sorry, man.

We’ll talk about that later. Do you need me to call the bank? They were in a small enough town that he could call his cousin Katy and explain how someone had stolen Rory’s wallet.

Please. No cops, though. I can’t explain to nobody.

Okay. Get a bath. I’ll make food and call Katy. He turned away before he did something stupid. He was always wanting to do things for Rory that he had no right to do, including beat down the assholes who wanted to do Rory dirty.

Shit, they’d…. Well, they hadn’t been lovers, had they? They’d been friends with hand jobs until Rory’d got all… weird and queery and shit on him, and he’d been cocksure and stupid, and he’d fucked that up. JW regretted that outburst every day.

Rory had gone through a series of men after that, each one worse than the last. JW wanted to hit most of them. Hard. With a shovel. Not just for being assholes, but for having what he wanted more than breath. Of course, this was a whole new level of worse. This was… criminal. Which was why he hoped it had been a random pickup. With condom.

Maybe three condoms.

All at once.

He called Katy, who snickered a little, as she thought Rory was a slut, but she promised to put a block on all the accounts and make sure no one stole Rory’s life. He told her to keep it all damned quiet too, because he would know who spread rumors if it happened. Katy was more scared of her momma than anything on earth, and JW had a damned good relationship with Earline. He’d been working on her truck since the beginning of time.

Rory came out of the bathroom finally, fully dressed, head down. You want a beer, man?

Not right now. He shook his head. We need to get those cuffs off, huh?

Yeah. I got the tile saw.

Tile saw? Christ. That would be messy. Let me see what I got in my truck. There might be something better. He’d only just grabbed the wire nippers before. Now he had time to investigate.

’Kay. Rory rubbed the back of his head, the cropped hair making a weird sound on that callused hand.

Eggs are on the stove. He’d managed to start food cooking in between everything else. They both liked their scrambled eggs burned, so they needed a good while longer. JW went out to the truck and rooted around. He was getting pretty damned frustrated when he saw something shiny on the street between the curb and the road. Hot damn. That looked a lot like keys. House keys and little cuff keys….

He grabbed those and what was left of Rory’s wallet—yay—and headed in.

No tile saw required, man.

No? You find something?

The keys. Your wallet too. ID is still in it. Among all the other memberships and shit. The only thing missing was Rory’s debit card. Thankfully, the man kept his Social Security Card in the lockbox under the bed.

Thank God. Rory held out his hands for them.

JW took Rory’s hands in his, cursing under his breath at the raw, bruised flesh at the wrists. I got it.

I’m sorry you had to see that, man, but I’m damn glad you came over.

Me too. Wanted that beer. He headed back to the eggs, which smoked gently.

Rory poured two glasses of milk, and if the man’s hands shook, JW didn’t say nothin’. He just got the food served up and handed over a plate.

Thanks. Rory sat at the little kitchen table, grabbed them each a fork out of the can of silverware.

No problem. JW waited until they both worked through the food. Until he couldn’t wait. Then he put his hands on the table, watching them clench. What the hell were you doing, Rory?

Rory’s head drooped down, chin damn near on his chest. Making a mistake.

Well, yeah. I mean, who was this guy? He needed to know. They might not be calling the police, but damn it all, JW would fix this somehow.

Rory sighed. We’d been going out a while. Name’s Jerrod. Apparently he’s a fuck.

And not a good one. He blinked, amazed that he could joke about Rory fucking anyone that wasn’t him.

Rory laughed, the sound harsh, hard. Bitter.

Come on, buddy. Talk to me.

Green eyes met his, sort of horrified. I didn’t know he was a fucker, man. We were having… you know… and he fucking went alligator on me, left me there.

He…. Rage built up a little. If Rory needed that kind of shit, he only had to ask. He never did ask, though. Not after that one time.

I’m sorry you had to see it, man. I know that ain’t your thing.

How do you know what my thing is? You gave up years ago. It was all building in his chest, about to blow. He wanted to tell Rory exactly what his thing was.

Those eyes met his again, bright as all fuck. Shit, all I know is I ain’t your thing. The rest don’t matter.

Oh, fuck that, Rory. I swear, you’re gonna make me pay for that stupid shit for the rest of my life. He was gonna blow a gasket. How long could a man hold a grudge?

Don’t you fucking snarl at me, man. I ain’t held shit against you, have I? No. I got your fucking back, one hundred percent forever. I have a fucking beer with you every week, take up for you when your Aunt Earline starts in about the babies. Rory’s hand slammed on the table.

I got your back too, you know that. I just…. He got up and tossed his plate in the sink, the sound of it shattering making him wince a little. He wanted Rory for himself and didn’t know how to take back what he’d said.

Look. It’s cool. I’m cool. You’re cool. Let me hit the head, and we’ll go have our beer. We ain’t never gotta talk about this shit again.

Why not? He turned around, bumping chests with Rory when the man tried to squeeze past him. You want that kind of shit, all you have to do is ask me.

Those big eyes went bigger, like fucking saucers, and for the tiniest second, JW saw pure fucking need, something that made his cock leap. Then Rory shoved him, hard, teeth baring. Fuck off, asshole.

Make me. Damn it, Rory, you don’t have to go out there and be unsafe and shit. It was like he couldn’t keep the words in. He had to say it; it had all been inside him too damned long.

What the fuck do you know about it? Jesus fuck, go find yourself a woman and make some fucking babies and don’t worry about what I’m hunting. Rory backed off, growling in his chest. You ain’t queer, remember? A hand job between friends, fine, but you don’t want no one to get ideas about you being a fag. That’s what I am, not you.

Damn, Rory had a fine fucking memory. Word for word.

Sometimes he hated that. You want someone to beat you, man, I’m up for it right now. His hands clenched so hard his knuckles hurt. He wanted that fight. Craved it.

Rory flipped him off, then clocked him in the breadbasket, that fist quick as a snake.

He grunted, his body trying to double over. Years of bar fights and crunches kept him upright, and he struck openhanded, pushing Rory’s shoulder. That spun Rory right around, that tight, hard little ass right there.

Without even letting himself think on it, JW slapped it too. Hard.

"What the fuck?" Rory tried to turn around, but JW didn’t think so. Not yet.

He had too many years of pent-up need, of the damned jealousy that gnawed at him. Of fucking missing out. Of watching every fucking willing man touching what was his for years.

He’d fucked up—once, bad—and had had to watch this hardbody get fucked and turned inside out by a dozen pricks who weren’t as good as him. They didn’t deserve him. Not like JW did. They couldn’t make Rory scream like he could. He’d learned a lot driving trucks all over the country.

It was his turn now. All his. He smacked again, his other hand on Rory’s shoulder to keep the man in place when Rory squirmed.

Let me go, asshole. Rory didn’t move away, though, and the man’s voice was way more husky than pissed off. Someone was all over this, and it wasn’t JW.

No. No, that’s all done with, you running from me. He did it again, because it felt good, his hand hitting so hard it bounced.

You’ve lost your damn mind.

Jesus, look at Rory move. It was like dancing, but so much better. If Rory didn’t have any sweats, it would be better. That skin would look so fine when he smacked at it. JW grinned a little for the first time since he’d called and no one answered. Then he ripped Rory’s sweats down, his hand slapping skin.

Dub! Rory groaned this time, took a step away.

What? It feels good. Or at least it did to him. His fingers curled around Rory’s hip. Look at that ass. He let his thumb rub the heavy muscle, and then he hit again, the skin going pink.

His handprint looked unbelievably erotic. His cock started to ache, like it had back in the day when they would sneak off with a bottle and a box of Kleenex.

This is fucking insane….

No. No, for once they were doing something fucking right. This is good, Rory. Go with it. He’d prove himself this time. He so would.

He pushed at Rory’s shoulder, got the man bent over the table, one hand on the small of Rory’s back. Those hard thighs spread, Rory’s balls hanging. Fucking hot. This was what Rory’d been wanting, probably what he’d been getting, from someone else. This was what Rory needed, what Rory was so ashamed of he couldn’t ask for it.

Now he was going to get it from JW. He smacked a few more times, a little harder.

A low moan sounded, and then Rory’s butt shifted, pushed into a slap. Jesus. The man was moving, just loving what he was doing. Thing was, JW was liking it too, his hand throbbing.

JW’s mouth was dry, his eyes fucking burning in his skull, not wanting to miss a second.

His hand was on fire, his cock was pressing on his zipper, and he could feel sweat trickle down his back. Fuck. He leaned down, tongue sliding over Rory’s skin. It was surprisingly hot on his lips. Hot with a tinge of salt.

Oh God. He closed his eyes, sliding to his knees. He breathed in Rory’s scent, happy as he’d been in a long time.

Dub?

Rory’s scent was fucking everywhere. Mmm-hmm. You smell good. He rubbed his cheek on Rory’s ass. Just like he was a cat or something. Rory was arching, his toes curling.

Oh God. I’m fucking hallucinating.

You hallucinate about me and your ass? That skin was red, little fingerprints standing out all over, fading together to make an amazing pattern.

What I dream about ain’t none of your business.

No? I think it’s all about my business. I told you I got your back. JW bit into the flesh of one asscheek, punishing a bit.

Okay, so hearing that husky moaning sound rocked his world, almost as much as feeling Rory buck against him. Fucking A. Groaning, he licked where he’d bitten, needing to taste again. He was panting, his heart pounding.

Fuck…. Rory spread a little wider, nails sounding on the table as the man scrabbled for purchase.

Anytime. He meant it too. Rory was a kinky little guy, right? Those hips canted for him, a clear offer. Jesus. Yes. JW loved to fuck, loved to slide deep into hot ass and push until he came.

He traced that hot crease with his finger, licking his lips as he watched. Rory was shaking for him. Oh fuck. Hot. That tight little hole clenched, damn near like it was kissing his finger.

He pushed, because he couldn’t not. He wasn’t going much farther without slick, but damn. He had to feel, had to know. Tight. Perfect. Oh fuck yes. Rory took him in, sweet as pie.

Ro, I need something. Condoms. Lube. It was amazing he could still talk, his voice raw and hoarse and almost gone….

Bedroom. That one word was like a damn key in a lock, like this was it, somehow. Time to make shit right.

JW sprang to his feet and grabbed Rory, hauled the little bastard to the bedroom, just like that. He flung Rory on the bed and started digging in the matching nightstands. He took a second to stare. Damn. Just like in the one dresser drawer, there were plugs. Cock rings. A fucking paddle.

His whole body went ping, but he ignored all that this time. All he needed was that little tube and one foil packet.

We don’t have to do this. Rory was hard as a rock, leaking, needing him. Those green eyes watched him, shadowed with doubt, hot with desire.

Yes, we do. He tossed the condom and lube on the bed and started stripping off clothes.

Oh fuck. Rory’s eyes were burning, looking hard, one hand working that fat prick.

Don’t you go off without me. He snapped it out, and Rory jumped, letting go of his cock. Oh Jesus. That was…. To know that Rory would take his orders like that made him moan, his balls pulling. Get the lube, man. Start getting ready for me.

Rory nodded, belly flushing a dark red. So fucking hot. And his, damn it.

His.

Rory grabbed the lube, slicked up those callused fingers, and then pressed two in that tight little ring of muscle. JW watched, hands on his shorts while he forgot his own name.

Take them off, Dub. I want to see. Rory was rippling, dancing on those fingers, body moving in slow, sensual rolls.

You do, huh? He grinned a little, thinking how long it had been, how they used to do their thing in the dark when they were drunk. Then he pushed his shorts down, his cock springing up to slap his belly. He hoped to hell Rory liked what he saw.

Rory groaned, tongue flicking out like the man was hungry. Fuck. Fuck yeah.

Needy little fuck. JW was gonna turn him inside out. Then he was going to put Rory back together so he could do it again. He grabbed the condom, slipped it on while Rory worked that little hole. He pushed between Rory’s thighs, spread the muscled legs wide. He wanted Rory to watch, to know who was fucking that little hole.

He wanted the man to know who would be the only one to do it from now on.

Dub. Need.

He swatted one asscheek again, let his hand stay wrapped around it. He wanted the burn. That skin fascinated him, and JW couldn’t understand how anyone could mistreat this man. Not like that asshole had.

He leaned down, met Rory’s eyes, so close he could see every speck. Gonna make it good, Ro.

Rory’s eyes went a little dark, and then that hungry mouth slammed against his, kissing him but good. Kissing him. Shit. He didn’t kiss. Rory tasted like salt and need, and JW went with it, feeling clumsy as hell. He wanted to make the man happy, right? He only had to think for about ten seconds, though, before his body took over, and one hand slid behind Ro’s head, tilted so he could have more.

He pushed Rory’s tongue out of his mouth, taking control of the kiss, making it his. He had to take control, let Rory know it was okay. He felt Rory’s moan more than heard it, all around his tongue, against his lips.

He held on, his cock pressing against Rory’s belly, and even with the rubber on, it was hot as fire. Rory reached down, lined him up with a move that was way too fucking easy. He pushed, gritting his teeth against the amazing rush of pleasure. JW kept pushing until he was flush with that hot ass, right there, seated so deep he could feel Rory’s heartbeat.

Dub. Dub. Rory moaned the words against his lips.

Yeah. I can’t… I need. He started moving, rocking back and forth.

His hips slapped against Rory’s, punching in, filling Ro up.

He could do this forever. He wasn’t gonna last more than a few moments. It was all gonna be over the next time that body clamped down on him.

Harder. Demanding little shit.

Still, it fit with what he wanted, so JW moved faster, their skin slapping. He reached down to grab Rory’s cock, pulling in rhythm.

Rory grunted, shoulders rolling up as the bedsprings screamed. JW loved that, loved how those tile-worker muscles bunched and pulled. He loved how the movement made Rory’s body squeeze around his cock too.

Fuck. Fuck, Dub. Need this. Rory met each fucking thrust, riding him but good, thigh muscles squeezing around him. Want you.

I got what you need. No matter what. He did. He would tie Rory up, down, and all over town if he had to. They’d fucking danced around this shit long enough. It was time to take things back to good.

Rory bore down, squeezing him so tight and so perfect that he damned near lost it. The only thing that kept him from going over was knowing Rory wasn’t quite there. JW scraped his thumb over the head of Rory’s cock.

Fuck! Rory’s head snapped back, spunk splashing over his fingers, that sweet hole spasming around his prick.

Oh God. He lost it, his whole body rocking back and forth, his other hand on Rory’s hip, fingers bruising that fine skin. His bruises. He’d done that. Rory took him in and in, hands like steel on his arms. JW came down, his breath hitching in his chest. He could get used to this. So fucking easy.

He slumped down, breathing hard, panting against Rory’s chest. Fuck, that was intense. He nuzzled in, licking the sweat from Rory’s skin.

He felt Rory’s response, all around his prick. Goddamn, that was hot. There were at least a hundred things he wanted to say, but he didn’t. Not yet. Rory needed to rest. He needed to think on what to say so he wouldn’t fuck it up again.

JW dealt with the condom without letting Rory up, then settled down, one hand in the center of Rory’s chest when the man tried to move. Stay.

Rory opened his mouth, and JW pressed his fingers to those pretty lips. No.

It felt fucking amazing when Rory didn’t say nothin’, just relaxed back. Rested.

They would have to talk, for sure. Thank God it didn’t have to be now. JW closed his eyes and sighed, letting his shoulders slide down from around his ears. They’d really have to have that beer before they got into it any more than they had.

Like really.

2

Rory McNeil had done some weird-assed shit in his days. Hell, he was practically a fucking pervert as far as the assholes in this town were concerned—queer or not.

But waking up with Justin William Sanders lying naked across him while his ass was having a happy little ache—outside and inside, which usually meant good things, damn it—was without doubt the weirdest fucking sensation ever. Or at least the weirdest in twenty-four hours, since Jerrod had left him cuffed to the bed.

Now he had to fucking figure out what the hell to do next. Fight? Scream? Run screaming into the…. He craned his neck and looked at the window. Afternoon? Maybe he should pop a top and put some burgers on the grill.

Or take a shower.

There was a country song in this, no lie. There was always a country song in the really weird shit. It was stranger than fiction, life.

Shh. JW patted his hip, not quite awake.

The little touch was enough to make his cock jerk, though. Stupid fucking body. He’d had a thing for JW since they’d been teenagers, and when they’d grown, he’d not gotten a bit better about it. He’d thought sure JW had been over it, though, and the man had proved him wrong.

Mmm. JW rubbed a cheek against his shoulder, his whiskers hard and scratchy.

He squeezed his eyes shut, praying for a second. Whether that prayer was that JW was awake and knew who he was in bed with or that the man was still asleep, he wasn’t sure.

So long as they didn’t have to have that what the fuck did you get me to do discussion, Rory didn’t care.

Hey. Okay, so JW was awake and talking to him. Is it morning?

I don’t think so? Hell, he didn’t know. He thought it was still late in the day but not night yet.

Well, it makes a difference, Ro. JW yawned hugely, jaw cracking.

It was afternoon when we—fucked like rabid bunnies—ate eggs. It’s still light now.

Huh. JW pushed up and looked at the clock, which did crazy things to his lower body. It’s just after six. So, must be p.m.

Yeah…. His eyes crossed a little at the weight, the pressure, against him. This was like a fucking wet dream.

Should we get the dogs, do you think?

I’d better. They’re prob’ly wigged right to hell. Poor babies. Stuck outside. He slid out from under JW, went to grab his sweatpants and cover his business. He’d never forgotten his dogs once in his adult life.

JW got up too, stretching a little, not putting any damned thing on. Gonna hit the head.

He nodded and headed outside to feed and water and give scritches. Sorry, guys. Y’all hungry? You didn’t eat Melanie’s cat, did you? She’d be pissed.

The dogs were freaked, wagging and licking his hands. They had water out there, but they’d want some food. He opened cans, gave everyone fresh water, and opened the bigger dog run to let them out. They would feel safer in there, feel like things were normal.

Everyone all right? JW came wandering into the kitchen, still buck naked, tall and ripped.

They’re fine…. His mouth