alphainsheepsclothing (2 page)

Chapter 3

Rand sighed, his shoulders stiffening. He was having guilt as it was about leaving these folks, who were clearly in desperate straits, and honestly, he rarely indulged in guilt. Such a waste of time.

He did stop, though, and let Tate catch up to him. “What is it, man?”

“I just need a few more minutes.” Tate stepped right up into his space, the heat from that muscled body intense, making Rand’s cock remind him it was happy to be alive.

“Well, I’m right here.”

Tate glanced over his shoulder at the town hall building. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

Huh. Intrigued, Rand nodded. “Sure. Lead the way.”

“Thanks.” Tate turned and headed up a trail into the woods.

The night air felt good against his face, the breeze smelling of wood smoke and Tate’s musk. Rand’s nose quivered. Damn, this guy was getting under his skin. He needed to move on, but he couldn’t seem to say no to Tate.

The neat cabin tucked into the trees looked like something out of Hansel and Gretel, a pretty little box with gingerbread trim and pots of flowers outside.

So queer.

Rand chuckled, and Tate snorted.

“Stop it. I can hear you thinking. I told you, I’m no Alpha.”

“You did at that.” Rand stepped inside once Tate opened the door, scenting the air. Uhn. The whole place smelled of Tate, the essence of the man sunk deep into the wood, into the fabric on the couch and the curtains. Rand’s cock went from interested to rock hard in a rush that left him breathless. Damn.

“You want anything?” Tate asked. “I have Coke, tea, coffee or beer.”

“I’ll take a beer, then.” He might as well. Tate wasn’t going to talk until he was good and ready, and Rand thought maybe Tate was working up his courage. This whole situation had to suck, losing half your pack to a fire. Werewolves could live a long time and they healed fast, but they were all still vulnerable to nature’s worst catastrophes.

“Amber or dark?”

“Uh, amber.” Damn, he’d expected Coors. The microbrew he got instead was hopsy and full-bodied. He took a long gulp, waiting for Tate to get to his question or proposition or whatever.

Tate finally looked up, gray eyes meeting his. “What would it take to get you to stay?”

The words “no chance” should have popped right out. Instead, Rand found himself saying, “What are you offering?”

Tate’s cheeks went dark pink, but that direct gaze never wavered. “Me.”

“Pardon?” He’d heard what Tate said; Rand just wanted to make sure he understood.

“Me. I’ll be your… whatever. I’m good at all sorts of things. Cooking, cleaning, budgeting. I’m also damned good at the day-to-day business of the pack.”

“Hmm.” Rand couldn’t help but play with Tate a little. “What if all I want is sex?”

Tate flushed so bright Rand thought that poor head might combust. “I’m really good at that, actually, and I know you’re interested. I can smell it. If that’s what you want I can be on call 24/7.”

His body stood up and cheered at the thought, even as his brain went in circles. “Did you have the same arrangement with Farrel?”

The answer came immediately, before Tate even opened his mouth. Disgust screwed up Tate’s face. “Ew. No. He tried once to dominate me by fucking me, and I fought him off. He stinks, and honestly, he’s into women, so he gave up after that.”

“Good.” He was far too happy about that idea. “How would you know how good you are? There’s a lack of available males around here.”

Tate’s face closed down, going expressionless. “There didn’t used to be. So, are you interested?”

Was he? Jesus, he could throw Tate down right here and fuck that sweet ass until they both screamed. Twice. Rand still held his peace. “Did I understand right? The job comes with a house?”

“Yeah,” Tate said, still carefully neutral. “You want to see it? That way I can make sure Farrel is gone before you leave.”

“Why is he so scary?” Rand kept asking it because he just didn’t understand.

“I told you; he’s the old Alpha’s brother.” When he didn’t respond, Tate sighed. “Walk with me and I’ll try to explain.”

“Sure.” He followed, thinking far more about Tate’s ass than about a defunct pack leader. Rand wondered if Tate was piqued that he never answered about the offer. He wanted to say yes, but reason told him staying here would chafe at him eventually.

They walked through the woods away from town at a thirty-degree angle or so from Tate’s place. They probably gained five hundred feet in elevation, and the little clearing the cabin sat in had room for a garden and some great outdoor entertaining space if it was cleaned up. Rand wrinkled his nose. Man, this place smelled sour, all stale beer and piss, anger and smoke.

“Yeah. Sorry. It will totally need some cleaning.” Tate opened the front door, then stepped back to let him in first.

Rand brushed past Tate and stepped into a pigsty. God, what a dump. Beer cans and trash, rotting food and dirty clothes littered every surface. “Oh, this would gag a maggot.”

“I know. This is why the elders were saying we’d all pitch in and help clean. Farrel has the bloodline, so no one was able to take him down, but he’s a drunk and a coward.”

“That’s so weird. I mean, in my pack, you move up based on strength.”

Tate nodded, watching him carefully. “I get it. We’re a small pack, though, with finite territory. We’ve never had too many strong males at once, so we became more of a monarchy, I guess.”

“This is disgusting.” The kitchen was covered in baked on grime, grease, and frozen pizza crumbs.

“I’m sorry. No one else would come up here.”

Tate was deflating by the second. Rand told himself not to feel bad. This wasn’t his mess, and it wasn’t his pack. He couldn’t put his life aside to live someone else’s, right?

“The layout is good.” He wandered into the hall. Two bedrooms, two baths with composting toilets. Really well made.

“Yeah.” He very deliberately kept his gaze trained on the filthy master bedroom. “So, how did you get so good at sex?”

“Huh?” Tate almost stumbled into him. “I told you; there used to me more strong males here. I had a lover. He’s gone.”

Something in Tate’s voice made Rand turn and take the man in his arms, offering a hug. He squeezed, and Tate grunted, but then Tate’s arms wrapped around him as well, hold on with surprising strength. Those wide shoulders shook, and Rand wondered how long Tate had been holding this in. Jesus.

“I’m sorry,” Rand said. “So sorry.”

Tate finally stopped sobbing, sniffing, and nodded against Rand’s shoulder. “Me, too.”

He patted Tate’s back, glad he hadn’t immediately taken the man up on his offer. Now he felt as if he had full knowledge of Tate’s personal situation, and Rand could make an informed decision.

Tate finally stepped back, shoulders straightening. “Sorry,” Tate said, staring over Rand’s shoulder. Then anger clouded Tate’s face. “Fucking A. That’s Farrel.”

Rand whirled around to face the window, and he could see the face pressed to the window, set in an ugly snarl. He leaped for the door, knowing the guy would run now that Rand was onto him. He shifted into his timber wolf form on the way out the front door. He could chase faster that way.

Farrel disappeared into the woods just as Rand hit the clearing and he put on a burst of speed. He was going to run this fucker off his territory. He caught up in no time, and he felt like that cartoon skunk from when he was a kid, trotting along and nipping at Farrel’s tail. The man’s wolf form told Rand all he needed to know. Skinny. Mangy. No muscle tone. This wolf didn’t hunt.

He knew instinctively that the state highway was the boundary for the land he was defending, so he took a strip of skin and fur off Farrel’s rump just before they crossed, then turned back, making a show of standing just on his side of the line.

Farrel whirled around, snarling and pacing back and forth, the coward’s head and tail down. When Rand bared his teeth, Farrel snapped at the air once and left, disappearing into the brush on the other side of the guard rail.

He had a feeling this wasn’t over, but the outcome suited Rand right now, so he let it go. He turned and trotted back to the cabin, knowing Tate would be waiting for him there, not wanting to distract him or get in his way.

Tate looked relieved as hell when he was the one to step back through the door, not Farrel.

“Man, you lose more clothes,” Tate said, sounding rueful. “Come on. Nothing in here will fit you and no one could sleep here anyway. The stench.”

Tate led the way back down the hill to Tate’s cabin, where Tate pulled out a pair of sweats and came back to the main room. “Can you defuzz and tell me what happened?”

He could do that. Rand let go of his wolf form, his joints popping harshly. When he stood, he stretched tall, grunting, then glanced over to see Tate staring at him. “Hand me the pants?”

“Huh?” Tate swallowed hard. “Oh, sorry.” Tate passed over the soft sweats.

“No problem. I chased him to the edge of the territory. I have no doubt he’ll try again, but he knows I’m still here.”

“Good. I—Will you stay? At least for a few days?”

“Is the offer of your, er, services still open if I do?”

Tate’s gray eyes went dark, hot, surprising him. “Yeah. Even if you don’t make it through the first week. By then Farrel might give up and move on, though I doubt it.”

Rand closed the space between them, reaching out to touch his cheek. “A week or so with the weirdest pack on earth would be worth it for you, honey. I’m in.”

“Oh.” Tate’s mouth opened on the tiny sound, and Rand couldn’t wait any longer.

He had to taste those lips.

***

Tate moaned when Rand kissed him. That strong hand held him in place and the dark beard scrubbed his chin and cheek, but Rand’s lips felt soft as snowflakes in November. Hot, too, and that tongue explored his mouth thoroughly, Rand taking what he wanted instead of asking sweetly.

All he could do was open up and let Rand have anything. Everything. This was a real Alpha, the kind of guy Tate dreamed about in the wee hours of the morning and woke up sweaty and hard for. Oh, God it had been so long.

“Shh.” Rand grabbed his ass and pulled him close, rubbing them together from breastbone to pelvis. “I got you, honey. You’re a big ball of need, aren’t you? Hot as fire.”

“Sorry.” He panted, knowing he was supposed to be giving pleasure, not just standing there and taking it.

“Why? You make me want all kinds of things. Right now I want to see you come.” One big hand slid right down into his pants, closing over Tate’s cock.

The warmth shocked him to his toes. Everything in him curled up, then stretched out so he could arch, begging for more. Thank God Rand held him up because he might have toppled over backward otherwise.

“That’s it, Tate. Look at you. So sensitive.” That dark green gaze never left him, taking in every moment of Tate’s reaction.

“I can’t.” His whole body quaked, the precursor to orgasm already running up his spine.

“Sure you can.” That smile told him Rand knew exactly what he meant; that he couldn’t hold back. Rand seemed to want him to shoot, though, those hard fingers rubbing the tip of Tate’s dick, the nerve endings there firing like a twenty-one gun salute.

“Oh.” Tate went up on tiptoe, bending back over Rand’s arm. “Oh, fuck!”

“Yeah.” Rand stroked him one more time, base to tip, squeezing, and that was all Tate could take.

He shot hard, his spunk landing on Rand’s arm, his hips sawing back and forth as his knees gave out and he sagged in Rand’s grasp.

Rand let him sink to the floor, gently positioning him on his knees. “Now we got that out of the way, huh? Never seen anyone need so pretty.”

Tate licked his lips, and he had a pretty good idea of what came next. “What do you want, Rand?”

Rand stroked his hair back off his face. “I want you to suck me, honey.”

Score. Tate wanted that, too, so much. He wanted to taste Rand with a fierceness he’d only experienced with one other man, and Lance was long gone. He closed his eyes, pushing the thought of his old lover out of his mind. This was a whole new chance.

He tugged down the sweats Rand wore, freeing the thickest cock he’d ever seen. The scent of male musk almost overwhelmed him, and he nuzzled into the heavy bush of almost black curls he found there. He reached up with one hand and pressed his palm under the dangling sac, rubbing Rand’s balls.

“That’s it. Good, honey.” Rand petted him, calluses catching on his hair. The tiny tugs sent tingles down Tate’s spine, and his cock began to rise again.

He breathed in deep through his nose, pressing down and swallowing when Rand’s dick hit the back of his throat.

“Fuck!” Rand jerked, and when slid back, hot drops of need landed on his tongue, precome escaping Rand’s slit.

Yeah. Rand could tease him, but he was damned good at this. He made it last, tugging down Rand’s balls every time the man got too close. Tate loved this dance, wanted it to go on and on.

Rand finally took his choice away, though, and sank both hands into Tate’s hair. Those hips began to rock, and he sealed his lips around Rand’s dick, letting his Alpha take what he wanted. He gloried in it, really. God, he needed this, and he was already fantasizing about that cock in his ass.

He closed his eyes and held on, his body rocking with the power of Rand’s thrusts. He swallowed, breathing through his nose, and pushed up this time under those furry balls instead of pulling down.

Shouting for him, Rand shot down his throat, giving him every drop of need. Claiming him.

Tate knew it, bone deep. He was Rand’s now. End of story.

Rand pulled away gently, massaging his head a bit. “You’re hard for me again, honey. Touch yourself. I want to watch.”

Nodding, Tate fell back on his ass, grabbing his cock and stroking hard. He needed to come again and he hadn’t even known it. Jesus. He glanced up, meeting Rand’s gaze, those eyes narrowed, hot as fire on him.

The next orgasm took him maybe a minute and a half. Tate roared to a finish, almost howling when his balls emptied again, the feeling so intense he thought he might pass out.

“Damn.” Rand stepped over to him and pulled him up, lifting him as if he weighed nothing. “Bedroom.”