Something Sinful This Way Comes [McQueen Was My Valley 1] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) (7 page)

“Oh, it’s a whole thing!” Longtree protested. “An entirely whole thing. They dress up as these adorable, huggable characters—they call themselves ‘Furries’—and have these group sex sessions. Some of them. I think some don’t go for the sex, they just hang out in costume. Have conferences.”

“In the wild?” Nathan wanted to know. “Are they duplicating what the wild bunnies and squirrels would’ve done? Like hump in a tree or in a warren? Or is it more like they’re pretending to be the cartoon characters, so anything goes? Drop an anvil on someone’s head? I don’t see how that’s sexy at all,” he added.

“It’s the strangest thing I’ve
ever
encountered in ten years on the force, that’s for sure,” Longtree admitted.

“What did you do?”

“Well, they weren’t breaking any law, per se.”

A monster cramp hit Nathan’s thigh just then. His eyes bulged from his head at the suddenness of the painful cramp. His foot even seized up, the toes curling skyward, so he hobbled to the group of flat rocks where Longtree had propped his boot. He collapsed to a sitting position, wrapping his thigh with both hands, wringing it as though squeezing out a sodden sleeping bag. But the cramp got worse and even seemed to be seeping into his hands and forearms, though he knew that wasn’t possible.

“All I could really get them for was not having a campfire permit, though that’s not really our jurisdic—cramp?”

“Yeah,” breathed Nathan through gritted teeth. He kicked off his right running shoe and snarled, “Step on my foot.”

Longtree put his hands on Nathan’s shoulder to balance himself and did as requested. The rubber tread of Longtree’s camo hiking boot felt like heaven, ironing out the cramp that had originated in his thigh but had spread to his foot.

“You don’t have any magnesium pills, do you?” Longtree asked.

“Back at the lodge,” Nathan gasped.

“Or a banana? I sometimes have a banana, just not today. You’ve jogged too much. You’re dehydrated.”

He knew Longtree was trying to be helpful. But even Nathan’s powerful upper body strength wasn’t capable of wringing this monster cramp from his thigh and he was this close to sobbing in frustration. Nathan Horowitz, ace commando, famous mercenary. Sobbing over a cramp.

Next thing he knew, Longtree had pressed him flat on his back. Straddling him with a knee on either side of his hips, Longtree had grabbed the affected thigh and was working it, massaging it. No doubt some medical training was involved in becoming a conservation officer. Nathan clenched the short sleeve of Longtree’s uniform, squeezing the carefully creased fabric into a mass of wrinkles.

“Cramps are vicious,” Longtree said soothingly, twisting and lifting the thigh muscle that seemed to contort itself into various shapes at will, like a cobra.

The pain was so intense Nathan held his breath, digging his nails into the game warden’s bicep. His eyes were squeezed shut, but he would’ve only seen the red of pain anyway. Longtree twisted and squeezed, twisted and squeezed, and soon necessity forced Nathan to exhale all in one stream, bucking and pumping his hips helplessly.

When he held his breath again, he knew the cramp had subsided. He knew because Longtree was wrenching the muscle of his inner thigh now, and his fingertips occasionally brushed against Nathan’s balls, packed tightly into his jock. The legs of his running shorts were so loose and split up the side they offered no protection, designed for air circulation and, apparently, for a perverted conservation officer to tickle his full, burgeoning balls.

Nathan didn’t mind. He allowed his bare foot to fall to the dusty sandstone below. The movement thrust his pelvis even more eagerly into Longtree’s soothing hands. Nathan held his breath and kept his eyes squeezed shut, not wishing Longtree to stop what he was doing. Longtree still massaged the kink from the thigh muscle with one hand, but the fingertips of the other hand were definitely straying to his balls, covered only with a thin film of tight cotton.

And his prick, tightly bound inside the jock, was responding.

It twitched and shivered with delight. Nathan covered his eyes with a hand, in case Longtree could read his pleasure. He needed to pretend to still be in pain if he wanted to have any plausible deniability. He nearly gasped with pleasure when Longtree slipped two fingers under the jock, using sweat to lubricate his stroking of the bursting balls.

Longtree’s other hand still made a pretense at massaging the constricted thigh muscle, but he did nothing to hide the fact that he was panting, too. And it wasn’t from exertion at having to wring the cramp from Nathan’s thigh. Nathan peeked through his fingers. Though the game warden’s head and torso were silhouetted against the bright blue sky, Nathan could still make out that his shaded eyes were fixated on Nathan’s bulging crotch. His lower lip hung slackly as though about to drool down on him.

Nathan’s loaded crotch now pulsated with voluptuous craving, the cock lengthening and swelling toward the questing fingers, begging to be touched.

Longtree’s fingers slid under the ball sac to tickle there. Nathan spread his thigh even wider, moving his bare foot away from the rock. Longtree smeared his sweaty fingertip against the sensitive perineum near his asshole, Nathan had to gasp, to gulp air.

“You like this, don’t you,” Longtree said lewdly, and slid the entirety of his other palm under the fabric of the jock, to fully grasp his cock at the base.

The corrections officer literally in Julian’s hands was one hot hunk of masculinity.

Julian “Fresh Air” Longtree was sensitive enough to know that this gorgeous slab of manhood was probably in a much more menacing and perilous field than simple highway patrol. The way he moved, brandished his firearm. The way he avoided direct questioning. Julian knew nothing about this muscular brute other than he was hung like a racehorse. And he did not slap Julian down so hard he’d never come up for air, not even when Julian dared to twine his long fingers around the trunk of that impressive dick.

He had no doubt the cramp had not been faked. Julian could feel the muscles bunching, seizing up.

He knew he was taking quite a risk. It was sly of him to move his fingers to the pulsing dick while still massaging the cramping muscles. He was lucky Nathan didn’t wallop him upside the head, but Nathan lay still as a listening deer, gripping Julian’s shirtsleeve, his eyes squeezed tightly closed. When he swept the other hand underneath the balls to tickle the perineum, Nathan finally gasped.

“You like this, don’t you,” Julian said in a low voice, pressing his fingertips against the perineum, the same way he enjoyed being touched himself.

Nathan’s eyes popped open, and in a flash he’d let go of Julian’s sleeve and was gripping his wrist. Trained in self-defense, Julian could tell. “
No
,” he growled. But even as he squeezed Julian’s wrist in his powerful fist and his eyes flashed with emotion, Julian could tell it wasn’t truly anger or alarm at Julian’s boldness.

Nathan was just attempting to cover up for the fact that he
liked
Julian’s touch.

Julian had seen this often. Fellows who were normally quite straight but became sexually aroused when touched by another man. They often felt compelled to protest at first—just to make it look good, lest anyone accuse them of being secret fags.

So Julian smiled and squeezed the erection. He saw the flutter of indecision at the corners of Nathan’s eyes. The pupils contracted as though he were about to pass out. Nathan gained control again and squeezed Julian’s wrist even harder, digging his fingers in. “
No
,” he growled again. “I
don’t
like it.”

“Oh, yeah?” Julian teased lightly. Although Nathan’s nostrils flared and his eyes flashed a warning sign, he had only gripped one of Julian’s wrists, and Julian was now free to lift the entirety of the beautiful hard-on from the stricture of the jock.
Ah, beautiful
. Long and thick, the massive penis was heavy and warm in Julian’s palm. He hadn’t jacked a dick this beautiful in a long time. “I think you like it. I think you’re a lot more perverted and deviant than you let on.” He spit in his palm and slicked up the pulsating cock. His fist glided smoothly over it like a glove. “You think just because you’re a law enforcement officer you’re immune to any image that isn’t by-the-books. But bottom line—you like having your cock jacked no matter who’s doing it.”

Julian was right—Nathan had relaxed his grip on Julian’s wrist and his head rested on the rock once more. Julian spit again, and rubbed his thumb sensuously over the slit in the taut glans. The brown patch of hair at the base of the cock contrasted against Nathan’s pale pubic mound. Julian tugged the bottom hem of the black T-shirt up to reveal the ridged abdomen. He bent over and pressed the flat of his tongue to that exquisite line of silken hair that arrowed down the center of those ridges. He licked a trail to the humid pubic mound, sucking on the wiry hair for a bit, but ultimately he wound up straightening his spine and gazing down at the helpless stud between his thighs.

He wanted to watch. He wanted to see the transformation from the brutal, aggressive beast to the compliant, eager pleasure-seeker. And Julian got it in spades. Nathan flung his arm over his head and squirmed seductively, his hips pumping the air. Julian yanked the T-shirt up even higher to reveal the pebbled brown nipples like coins. He bent to take a few nibbles from them, too, and was rewarded by a low growl deep in Nathan’s chest, vibrating his lips as he flicked his tongue across the tip of the sensitive nipple.

Julian was surprised, through, when Nathan flung an arm around him, rubbing the back of his scalp with his fingertips, cuddling Julian’s head to his chest. He could not tug the shirt higher due to the stricture of the shoulder holster, so he bent nearly in half to take one giant slurp from the prick, spearing it down his throat.

Nathan groaned like a bear, wiggling his hips to lodge the prick more firmly down Julian’s throat. As much as he wanted to continue gulping the enormous member, Julian was an expert at adhering to his sexual goals. He wanted to watch. So he straightened up again, releasing the cock with a loud slurp.

“Don’t stop,” Nathan snarled, trying to pull Julian’s head back down.

My, how quickly we go from “no” to “don’t stop.”
Julian was justifiably proud of his cocksucking skills, and he loved making men literally squirm. As he now sped up the hand job until the fist and cock were a blur, Julian admired the athletic stud he held in his hands.

Nathan was a forceful, savage beast. Julian had no illusions that he would seduce this one into loving him. He knew that he wanted, ultimately, to live in bliss with another man or woman, it didn’t matter much which. But being a conservation officer who spent the majority of time out in the field wasn’t too conducive to a real relationship. Julian had spent his thirty-fifth birthday on a mesa near the Navajo res with a bottle of mescal, admiring a lounging mountain lion. This wasn’t the sort of activity likely to land him a spouse, much less a passel of children, as he’d always imagined he’d have. He mentored youth waterfowl hunts, conducted checkpoints, testified in court against assholes illegally taking bears, and wrote up fishing reports. Last month he’d arrested a pair of yokels for shooting two golden eagles. But out in the wilderness, where even cell reception was spotty, it was well-nigh impossible to maintain any sort of relationship.

Julian could feel by how taut the cock became, taking on a purplish sheen, that the stud was about to shoot. He corkscrewed his hand up and down the beautiful prick, thumbing the ridge of the glans near the slit. Spread out like this between Julian’s thighs, this beautifully muscular cop was a sight to behold. Julian particularly liked having the control, the mastery over strong bucks like this. He liked nothing more than to see them turn into a puddle of lust and semen, as this man was now doing.

The seed spurted forth so forcefully, the jet made a glittering arc that splashed somewhere near Nathan’s head. Julian jacked the cock professionally, his other hand kneading the tender, full balls. Nathan choked on his moans as he squirmed between Julian’s thighs, his cock pulsing in Julian’s fist. There was nothing finer than reducing a virile buck to a helpless, lusty pool of yearning.

Julian slowed his pumping, not wishing to irritate the cock. He was hesitant to let it go, but he had to in order to salaciously lick the seed that trickled down his palm to his wrist. When Nathan’s eyes opened, he didn’t look at Julian. In fact, he roughly shoved him off. Julian spun on his ass while Nathan got to his feet with his back to Julian, rearranging his penis inside his jock. He even shrugged back into his windbreaker, although it was nearing eighty degrees already.

Is this going to be one of those encounters that no one mentions later?
Julian supposed that would have to be all right with him. But he’d already agreed to spend the night at Nathan’s cabin. That offer was probably off the table now.

But he was wrong. About no one speaking of it, anyway. Once Nathan had made himself decent, he spun on Julian. In his defense, he could have been angrier. He could have knocked Julian’s block off, especially spinning on his ass like he was now, like a schoolboy. “So that’s it. You’re gay. You thought I was hitting on you when I mentioned you could spend the night at my cabin?”

Julian frowned, also standing with as much dignity as he could muster, brushing the red sandstone dust from his knees. “I wouldn’t say as I’m gay. Bi, if you want. I’m a man who recognizes a delicious stud when he sees one. I didn’t think you were hitting on me by inviting me to your cabin. It didn’t occur to me to make a move on you until I practically had my hands around your balls.” Instead of returning Nathan’s rage with rage of his own, Julian felt a grin spread over his face. “Nice, big, juicy balls, too, may I add.”