Hairy, Horny, and Over Here

Dedication

To Matthew Vandrew, without whom I might never have known of the existence of these fearsome critters.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 3 Hairy, Horny, and Over Here

“BE

VEWWY, vewwy quiet, we’re hunting—” Ethan broke off

as a shotgun, held in a pair of unusually beefy hands, swung toward him and took up position about three inches from his left nostril. “Joke, okay?” He swallowed and tried to ignore the chill tap-dancing down his spine. “Sense of humor failure, much?” His heavy black brows casting his dark eyes in even darker shadow, Logan very noticeably didn’t move the gun away. “Joking like that is what gets guys killed out in the bush.” His voice, with its American twang, was a low rumble that reminded Ethan equally of Clint Eastwood at his meanest and the roaring of the tigers in the local zoo. Ethan had always liked to lie in bed and listen to them on a summer’s evening. Apparently Logan had spent so long in the company of dangerous animals he’d started to sound like one. Not to mention behave like one. Ethan found himself wondering what it would be like to lie in bed listening to Logan. If he’d been asked to describe his companion’s physical appearance, the word “tiger” would probably not have sprung to mind. “Bear,” on the other hand—that would do nicely. Well over six feet tall, Logan seemed to lumber rather than walk. He was not so much hirsute as full-on furry, and if he fancied a snack, Ethan could all too easily imagine him scooping up live salmon in those great paws of his and swallowing them whole. Talking of swallowing things whole…. Ah. The barrel of the shotgun was still glaring coldly in Ethan’s general direction. It probably wasn’t the time to get distracted.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 4 Judging discretion to be the better part of valor, particularly when he was a foot shorter and around a hundred pounds lighter than the other guy, Ethan put his hands up in mock surrender and smiled ingratiatingly. “We’re not in the bush, though, are we? This is Parkhurst Forest on the Isle of Wight, not the African Serengeti. On a global scale, it barely qualifies as a shrubbery.” He paused significantly. “And right now, I’m thinking it’s more likely to be that gun of yours that gets me killed. Do you think you could point it somewhere else?” “You call this a gun?” Logan’s lip curled around his cigar. “My three-year-old daughter has toys that could outshoot this piece of shit. The gun laws in this country are crazy. How the hell is a man supposed to protect himself and his family?” Damn. Logan had a daughter. That probably meant he had sex with girls. Or at least a girl. Well, had done once, unless it was some test-tube, turkey-baster baby…. Ethan wrenched his thoughts to more immediate matters. “You’re seriously telling me you think that giving a gun to every nutjob who can come up with the money makes a country safer?” Logan took the stub of his cigar out of his mouth, glared at it for a moment, then ground it out beneath one sizefourteen heel. “You got a nuclear deterrent, don’t you?” “Not personally, no.” “But you get my drift, right?” All credit to Logan: for a big guy who was trying to get a point across, he used minimal looming. Actually, Ethan wouldn’t have minded a bit more looming. Possibly even some menacing, as long as the

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 5 shotgun wasn’t involved. There was a difference, in his opinion, between hey, that’s kinky, do it again and shit, call the police now, and the use of shotguns was so far on the other side of the line it had probably fallen off the edge of the island. “I suppose so,” Ethan conceded. “But—oh, I don’t know. Do we really need all the firepower in this particular instance? This isn’t the full might of communist Russia we’re up against. Wouldn’t a carrot on a stick do just as well?” “This ain’t some fluffy bunny we’re up against, kid,” Logan snarled. “This is your worst nightmare come to life. This is the Jackalope.” The capital J was clearly audible, and it remained hanging in the air between them for a moment like the trail left by a sparkler on Bonfire Night. Ethan laughed. “Hey, if it was my worst nightmare, I’d be naked and up in front of my old maths class, with Mr. Frogmore beating me with a blackboard rubber for being too thick to understand calculus.” Logan’s surly expression seemed to soften as he nodded his dark, shaggy head at Ethan. “Yeah, I heard all about the kind of shit that goes on in your English schools. Wouldn’t be allowed to happen in the US of A, that’s for sure!” “Uh, I didn’t—oh, never mind.” Ethan unclipped his lens cap. “Listen, why don’t I get a couple of shots before we get into it? You want to get into hunter pose? Aim that gun of yours at something that’s not me?” “You can put that thing away. I’ll pose for pictures when I got the jackalope. Not before. You think I want you snapping pictures, flashing your little light-bulbs and scaring away anything in a half mile range?” He strode off

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 6 into the forest, and Ethan scurried to keep up with his long stride. “Hey, you want to make your mind up about these things? One minute they’re the creature from the Black Lagoon, only not so cuddly, and the next you’re telling me they’re scared of a little flash of light?” The more Ethan thought about it, the more convinced he was that Logan had brought him on a wild goose chase. Wild rabbit chase. Whatever. After all, seriously, whoever heard of killer rabbits with antlers? But if jackalopes were real, and Ethan was on hand to take the first ever authenticated photographs of the furry little freaks… well, he could kiss goodbye to photographing dodgy Victoria sponges at village cake competitions for the Isle of Wight County Press. He’d have it made! Besides, it wasn’t like there were any other well-built, good-looking guys queuing up to take him on walks in the forest on a Saturday afternoon. Even if this one was straight, Ethan might as well make the most of it. He supposed he’d better try and get a bit of a story out of the guy. “So what makes you think the jackalopes are here? I mean, you’re not suggesting they’re native to the Isle of Wight, are you? I think people would have noticed by now if the place were overrun with horny rabbits. Uh, rabbits with horns. You know what I mean.” Logan paused in the act of examining a frond of bracken that looked exactly like every other frond of bracken, as far as Ethan could tell. “You ever hear of a guy named Drew Van Matthews?” Ethan shook his head. “Nice name, though. Kind of reminds me of an author I once heard of—”

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 7 “Guy’s a fanatic. Breeds the little fuckers in his topsecret base in Indiana. Wants to spread the jackalope throughout the world.” “And he’s starting with the Isle of Wight?” Ethan didn’t even try to keep the incredulity out of his voice. Logan laughed, a short, harsh bark without humor. “You think he’s never tried this kind of crap before? Places like this make him cream his panties—self-contained ecosystems. It’s the perfect way to see how the critters adapt to the climate, local food sources, what-the-fuck-ever.” He sat back on his haunches, the bracken seemingly forgotten. “I’ve been tracking this asshole forever. Almost had him in Sicily, but he jumped ship and made it to Gibraltar.” Logan laughed again, this time like he meant it. “Hell, he won’t be going there again. The monkeys ran him and his jackalopes right outta town.” Ethan shuddered. “Yeah, I’ve met those monkeys. Went to Gibraltar when I was a kid.” Sometimes he still had nightmares about the one who’d stolen his ice cream and run off, shrieking defiance. It’d had chocolate sauce on it and everything. The ice cream, not the monkey. Well, the monkey probably did too, but Ethan had been too upset to notice. He did sometimes have dreams about people covered in chocolate sauce, but those were generally a lot more pleasant. “This place, though—it’s perfect for him,” Logan went on. “Britain in microcosm.” “Well, most Brits think of it more as the 1950s in microcosm, but pretty much, yeah,” Ethan agreed. He frowned. “Hey, these jackalopes of yours—they don’t eat

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 8 squirrels, do they? We’re very protective of our squirrels round here.” “Yeah, I heard about that. One of the last remaining habitats of the British Red Squirrel, right?” “Now the rest of the country’s been invaded by American grays, yes.” Ethan couldn’t stop himself glaring at Logan, although the big man probably hadn’t been personally responsible. Ethan was hazy on the details, but he was fairly sure even rabbits couldn’t have bred their way up through six hundred miles of country in Logan’s lifetime. Okay, the guy was kind of weathered, but Ethan put him at twentyeight, maybe thirty, tops. Logan shrugged and puffed out his chest a little, not that it needed it. “Hey, is it our squirrels’ fault they’re bigger and tougher than the little red guys? It’s survival of the fittest out here in the wild. Now get your skinny British ass in gear, we got jackalopes to hunt.” Ethan bristled. “My ass—sod it, arse—is not skinny. I’m just lean and well-toned,” he added in a lower tone, worried Logan might take exception and point the gun at him again. Logan’s gaze roamed over Ethan’s body. “My three-year old daughter’s got a bigger—” “Yes, all right!” Ethan snapped. “I get the picture.” He stomped off across the bracken, taking vicious pleasure in flattening as many fronds as he could. They crept deeper into the forest, Logan occasionally stopping to examine the bracken, the bark of certain types of tree, and once, a small pile of animal droppings. To Ethan’s disgust, Logan picked some up, rubbed it between his fingers, and gave it a good sniff.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 9 “I hope you’re not planning on tasting that,” Ethan muttered, having been mentally scarred by watching Due South when he was younger. Whatever Logan might have said—and from his expression, it wouldn’t have been anything complimentary to Ethan—was interrupted by the thucka-thucka-thucka of a helicopter sounding overhead. Ethan looked up automatically, but he could see nothing through the thick forest canopy. “What the hell’s that all about?” Logan’s bushy black brows huddled together like cats in a basket as he frowned and looked up. “At a guess, I’d say there’s been an escape from Parkhurst Prison.” Ethan flicked open his phone and opened up the Internet browser. Logan stared at him. “So you have to tell all your Facebook friends about it?” “No,” Ethan said with exaggerated patience, “but it might be nice to know if there’s a homicidal maniac running round the forest with us.” Mutely, Logan raised the gun. Ethan rolled his eyes. “Oh, yes. How silly of me. Another homicidal maniac, then.” He looked back down at the screen. “Uh-oh, this isn’t good. Breaking news: Reggie Carter, gangland killer, escaped from Parkhurst just over an hour ago. Says here he used a ladder he’d built in the prison workshop to scale the prison wall—what the bloody hell did they think he was building a twenty-five-foot ladder for? Anyway, we’d better clear out until he’s found.” “No way.” Logan turned and stomped off, as if the discussion was over.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 10 “Um, way,” Ethan protested, scurrying after him. “I didn’t sign up for any hostage situations. And anyway, we’d only be getting in the way of the police search.” “Anyone gets in my way, they’re going to regret it,” Logan snarled. “Now move it or lose it. I’m not waiting around here all day for you to grow a pair.” “I’ve got a pair,” Ethan muttered, but he looked around fearfully as he hastened after Logan.

AFTER what seemed like hours of trudging through bracken and getting scratched by identical thorny trees, a whisper came to Ethan like the rustling of the leaves. “Grow a pair.” “Will you stop going on about that?” Ethan’s nerves were bad enough, what with escaped murderers on the loose—he didn’t need Logan sniping at him all the time. “About what?” Logan stopped and turned. “I didn’t say a word.” “Yes, you did. I heard you. You told me to grow a pair. Again.” “That wasn’t me,” Logan murmured. His voice was so low Ethan had to strain to hear it, but the excitement in his tone was unmistakable. “It means we’re close. Real close. That was the jackalope.” Bloody brilliant. Even the bunnies had no respect for Ethan. “Wait a minute. These things can talk?” “They’re mimics,” Logan whispered. “Cunning little bastards. They do it to confuse hunters. Throw them off the scent.”

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 11 “Couldn’t they do it in a less insulting fashion?” Ethan muttered. “Also, not working very well, is it?” Logan ignored him. “You wait here—I’m going on alone. Less chance of scaring the jackalope off that way.” “What?” Ethan snapped. Not only was this turning out to be a wild goose chase, he apparently wasn’t even to be allowed a gander at any wild geese that might, against all odds, be there. “How the hell am I supposed to get any pictures of them from here?” Logan hefted his gun. “You think I brought this along just to look pretty? I’ll bag those critters and lay them out at your dainty little feet. All you got to do is wait here.” Ethan stepped back in disbelief, his arms flung wide. “So when you said you wanted to find the jackalope, you actually meant you want to kill them?” he hissed. “Bloody terrific! I thought you wanted me to take pictures of them in the wild—romping in their unnatural habitat, that sort of thing. If you just want photos of little furry corpses, we could have done that back in Newport. Was there any point to me coming along and risking life and limb?” “Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You’re my witness, you got that? I turn up at the newspaper office with a bunch of dead jackalopes, they could have come from anywhere. You gotta testify to where I found them.” “Does it matter where you found them? Isn’t the whole point of the thing the jackalope itself?” “Listen, Eth, if I’m gonna nail this asshole Van Matthews, I need to prove he’s been importing dangerous animals. Even a backwater country like this has laws against that kind of shit. Now you just stay put where you’ll be safe

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 12 and don’t go worrying that pretty head of yours over the whys and wherefores, you got it?” Logan stalked out of the clearing and left Ethan to kick his dainty little heels. Sighing, he sat down on a fallen tree, hoping that if it was infested with termites, he wasn’t about to be. It was quite clear how Logan viewed him, he thought bitterly. A lightweight. A liability. Just a necessary evil to help gain the recognition the big man so obviously craved. It would serve Logan right if Ethan just got up and left right now. In fact, that was just what he ought to do. Take his cameras and his journalistic witness credentials and get straight out of this fugitive-infested forest. Except…. What if there was something in what Logan said? Ethan would be kicking himself if he missed the opportunity of his career. Then there was Logan himself. Okay, the man was annoying, infuriating, and overbearing. And those were just his good points. But something in Ethan couldn’t shake the feeling it might be rather nice to show Logan that Ethan did, in fact, possess a pair. Plus, obviously, the usual accompaniment—the meat between the two veg, as it were. Ethan wondered idly which two veg they were supposed to resemble. Brussels sprouts, from the shape, he supposed— although anyone whose family jewels were that particular shade of grayish green was probably in urgent need of medical attention…. There was a flurry of movement in the corner of Ethan’s field of vision, and he raised his head in mild curiosity—and froze. It couldn’t be! There, not six feet away from him, was a small white rabbit.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 13 With horns. Actually, they looked more like antlers. As if someone had taken a little girl’s pet bunny and put some Christmas reindeer antlers on it. Ethan’s eyes narrowed. He’d been had. No wonder Logan had insisted on going on alone. That lying bastard must have planted a cage somewhere up ahead earlier in the day, and had simply gone off to ready the animal and release it. He’d probably hand-picked Ethan: the photographer most likely, in his crass, conceited judgment, to fall for the hoax and run off to the papers with photos, claiming they’d found the mythical jackalope. Well, Ethan would take the pictures, right enough, but the headlines would be very different to what Logan was hoping for. He’d expose that bastard for the fraud he was! Taking off his lens cap, Ethan started to creep toward the rabbit. “Who’s a horny bunny, then?” he crooned. “My, what big horns you’ve got!” The rabbit twitched its nose at him, then turned to nibble at some bracken. Clearly it shared Logan’s opinion of Ethan as non-threatening. Ethan lay down on his belly to snap a couple of shots, using natural light and a long exposure so as not to startle the creature. “Oh, you’re a sweetie,” he singsonged to it. “You’re not a dangerous, maneating jackalope, are you? No, you’re not.” Tiring of its bracken, the bunny hopped over to sniff at Ethan’s camera. Although his gut still burned with anger at Logan for the hoax, Ethan had to smile. He was a sucker for cute furry creatures. “Next time we’ll bring you some carrots, yes we will.” As he spoke, another horned rabbit hopped up beside the first—and behind it, a whole cuteness of baby

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 14 bunnies, each adorned with stubby little antlers. Ethan grinned as he snapped shot after shot. You had to hand it to Logan—hoax it might be, but he’d really gone to town on it. The babies were shy at first, but Ethan carried on with his impersonation of a rather boring hillock with a baby-talk fixation, and they soon grew bolder—one of them even hopping right up to him and nibbling at his hair. Just as Ethan was starting to worry that too much hair gel might be bad for bunny tummies, they scattered. Ethan blinked. What on earth? Had Logan called them, or something? Some kind of bunny whistle? He imagined it as being like a dog whistle, only smaller and softer, and possibly carrot-shaped— “Get up!” The voice was rough, British, and very definitely didn’t belong to Logan. Ethan scrambled to his feet to find himself facing a very large man holding a very large knife. “Drop that bloody camera!” the man rasped. “Um, right. Camera. Dropping.” With unsteady fingers, Ethan unhooked the camera from around his neck and placed it slowly on the ground, his eyes not moving from the bloodshot ones confronting him. “Now get your shirt off.” “What?” Ethan squeaked. All right, Logan had promised him his worst nightmare, but this was going too far! For a crazy moment he half-expected the man with the knife to turn into Mr. Frogmore, puffing on his pipe and predicting dire things for Ethan’s future. Unfortunately, it seemed the old maths teacher hadn’t been so far wrong. The fugitive was stripping off his prisonissue shirt. This was rapidly turning into Ethan’s secondworst nightmare, the one that started with unpaid library

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 15 fines and a judge with a grudge and went seriously downhill from there. “Um, couldn’t we just talk a bit first?” Ethan pleaded. Didn’t these guys get enough gay sex in prison? “You have noticed I’m not a girl, right?” “Stop trying to be funny and hand over that bloody shirt!” the man snarled. Ethan felt weak-kneed with relief. “Oh, the shirt. Here you go, then.” He’d never liked the orange-and-green plaid anyway. He only wore it because it had been a present from his auntie. He held it out to the convict, who reached for it— and then all hell broke loose. There was a shout of “What the fuck?” in Logan’s deep, menacing tones, and suddenly Ethan found himself in the convict’s arms, plastered against a soft belly in a greasy vest that reeked of sweat and cabbage. If this was real life, Ethan reflected with mounting hysteria, he really needed to get himself some scarier nightmares. “Drop that gun or your boyfriend gets it!” the convict snapped. Logan stood at the edge of the clearing like an overlarge militaristic statue from a Communist dictatorship. He didn’t appear to be making any move toward dropping his shotgun, Ethan couldn’t help but notice. The arm across Ethan’s windpipe was cutting off his breathing as the point of the knife menaced his right eyeball. Black spots danced in Ethan’s vision as he tried to communicate wordlessly, “Just do what he says!” The statue didn’t move.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 16 “I said drop it, you bastard!” The fugitive’s voice was harsh with nerves, the hand holding the knife trembling alarmingly. No such luck with the one currently occupied in squeezing the life out of Ethan. The black spots were turning into blobs, and Ethan’s head felt tight. He wondered how pissed off his captor would be if he passed out and slumped to the ground, and if he’d ever wake up again to find out. Logan started to lower the gun at a pace that made continental drift seem a bit on the quick side. Ethan was almost grateful he didn’t have enough breath left to whimper. That knife was getting nearer and nearer to ballsing up his depth perception for good…. “Aaaaargh!” The arm around Ethan’s neck tightened convulsively, then slackened, and the knife disappeared from his field of view as Ethan slumped to his knees. “What the fuck…?” Logan had Ethan under the armpits and was dragging him clear. The screaming hadn’t stopped. As Ethan’s vision cleared, he could see the fugitive thrashing around, the knife stabbing blindly at about a dozen furry creatures that seemed to have attached themselves to the man’s body. Blood streamed over the unshaven face and down the grimy vest, and Ethan winced as he saw one of the animals hanging by its teeth from the convict’s groin. It was the friendly bunnies from earlier. “Bloody hell, Logan!” Ethan croaked, his gullet feeling like he’d been trying to deep-throat a Coke can. “Are those things part Rottweiler? Did you train them to do that?” “I told you the jackalope was a killer,” Logan rumbled in Ethan’s ear. As the vibrations resonated through him, Ethan

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 17 was suddenly very conscious he still had his shirt off and was clutched to Logan’s breast like the big man didn’t ever intend to let go. Finally, the day was looking up. He let himself sag back against that warm, solid chest. After all, his knees were trembling like Gene Wilder’s shooting hand in Blazing Saddles. “Um, do you think we ought to, you know, help him?” Ethan rasped out after a moment as the screams continued unabated. “It seems a bit mean not to. I’d like to do it without hurting the bunnies, though.” “Those ain’t bunnies,” Logan growled. “You ever see a bunny do that?” “Not since Monty Python, no.” Ethan winced as the blood-soaked bunny magnet crashed to the ground, still screaming. The biggest of the bunnies—jackalopes, Ethan corrected himself—left the gory scene and hopped over to where Ethan stood. He could feel Logan’s arm tighten protectively around him. “Don’t shoot it!” Ethan gasped. “Dammit, Ethan….” Raising itself on its hind legs, the jackalope regarded them for a moment, its bloodied nose twitching. Then it turned and hopped away, the other jackalopes following in its wake. “Thanks,” Ethan breathed, not sure if he was talking to Logan or to the bunnies. “Don’t mention it,” Logan said gruffly, his breath hot on Ethan’s bare shoulder.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 18 The convict was lying on the forest floor, whimpering and twitching. “I s’pose we’d better call the police,” Ethan said after a moment. “Yeah,” Logan growled. He didn’t move, unless you counted his hand, which had started to rub in slow circles over Ethan’s chest. What with all the calluses, it was a little like being rubbed down with fine-grade sandpaper. Ethan hoped he wasn’t about to lose a nipple but couldn’t seem to bring himself to care about it overmuch. “You know,” Ethan rasped, his maltreatment by the convict meaning he didn’t even have to try for a husky tone, “if it hadn’t been for you and the bunnies—” And then a dozen policemen burst into the clearing, weapons trained on them. Weapons? In Britain? On the Isle of Wight? Was that even allowed? Surely there had to be something in the constitution expressly forbidding it? Wait, did Britain even have a constitution? His mind a whirl, Ethan squeaked reflexively, pleased when Logan’s arm around him tightened protectively once more. “We caught your prisoner,” Logan snarled, nodding to the pathetic, blood-soaked heap still moaning pitifully on the ground. The weapons, thankfully, were lowered. “Bloody hell, what did you do to him?” One of the policemen knelt by the side of the prisoner, who clung to him, presumably in gratitude for the rescue. “It was the squirrels!” Ethan burst out. “Red squirrels! They’re vicious little buggers when they’re provoked!”

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 19 Two of the policemen exchanged worried glances, while the kneeling one pulled out his radio and started calling for medical assistance. “Just ignore him. He’s kind of highly strung,” Logan rumbled. “It was a dog. Or a fox, maybe. We didn’t see much. It ran off when it saw us.” Ethan stifled a pleased gasp at Logan’s lies on behalf of his furry little friends. “Yeah? Imagine that.” The policeman’s tone was sarcastic, and Ethan bristled as a pointed look was cast at his bare chest. “What were you two doing in here, anyway?” “Taking photographs,” Ethan said, just as Logan snarled out, “Hunting rabbits.” “It’s an article for Shooting Times,” Ethan added quickly. “Hunting rabbits in the forest. With photographs.” “Yeah? So what are you—the page three pinup?” The policeman looked Ethan up and down in a way that strongly suggested that if so, he personally would be canceling his subscription. “I, ah, had to lie down to take some pictures and didn’t want to get my shirt dirty?” Ethan hazarded, wrapping his arms defensively around himself. The policeman raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything. “You know, Eth, it’s getting kind of cold,” Logan put in. “We should probably go look for your shirt now.” “Would this be it?” The kneeling policeman held up a rather gruesome rag which, on closer inspection, Ethan recognized as having once been his rather gruesome shirt. It looked like the escaped convict had been using it to staunch his wounds.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 20 If anything, the addition of crimson to the pattern was an improvement, but still, Ethan couldn’t quite see himself wearing the thing home. “He can keep it,” he said generously. Logan took off his padded camouflage jacket and gallantly draped it around Ethan’s bare shoulders. “Thanks,” said Ethan, staggering slightly under the weight. He wondered what on earth was in the pockets. Knowing Logan, it was likely to be hand grenades and dynamite. Probably not the best time to have a look, what with the police casting suspicious looks at them apparently on principle. “This yours too?” The policeman held up Ethan’s camera. “Yes!” Ethan stepped forward to grab it. “Um, would you mind if I took some pictures?” “For Shooting Times?” The policeman seemed a lot happier about it than Ethan had expected. “With our guns and all? My mum’s never seen me with my gun. They don’t let us take them anywhere.” “Absolutely!” Relieved, Ethan snapped shot after shot of the policemen posing happily by the bloodstained convict. It was worth wasting a roll of film or two to keep the police in a good mood. Plus, he’d always had a bit of a thing for a man in uniform.

“YOU’RE not going to go back and kill them, are you?” Ethan asked anxiously as they made their way back through the darkening forest, the police having finally taken their

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 21 statements and left with what remained of their prisoner. “The bunnies, I mean.” He was wondering whether he should invite Logan out to dinner but had a nasty feeling Logan might want to shoot something and cook it over an open fire—or worse, insist they eat it raw. Probably garnished with grubs like something off one of those torture-the-celebrity reality TV shows. Logan smiled. “I guess you’ve gotten kind of fond of those little guys.” “Well, they did save us from the homicidal maniac,” Ethan pointed out. Logan’s smile twisted. “The other homicidal maniac,” he rumbled ruefully. A meaty hand clapped Ethan painfully on the shoulder. Ethan tried not to flinch too forcefully. “I don’t know what it is about you, Eth, but you brought out a side of those critters I’ve never seen before. It’s kinda made me think about the whole business. Maybe Van Matthews has the right idea—maybe the jackalopes deserve a chance of life just like everybody else.” Ethan beamed. “So you’re going to leave them in peace?” “Well, you can bet your sweet British ass those guys in prison will think twice about escaping after they hear what happened to that asshole back there.” Logan sighed. “Listen, Eth, when I saw you with that knife in your face—hell, if it hadn’t been for the jackalopes jumping the bastard, I figure I’d have been looking at a homicide charge right around now.” “You’d have killed him? For me?” Ethan squeaked. “That’s….” He wasn’t quite sure how to finish that sentence.

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 22 “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me,” didn’t seem quite right, somehow. “Does that mean you’re, er….” “Interested?” Logan gave a slow smile, and his voice, already practically infrasonic, dropped another couple of octaves. “You bet. Hell, the sight of you tippy-toeing through the forest on those dainty little feet of yours has had me busting out of my pants all day.” All Ethan’s breath went out of him in a huff as Logan put a gorilla-sized arm around him and squeezed. He felt deliriously happy and light-headed, although it was possibly just due to lack of oxygen. Then a thought occurred. “Um, your daughter?” “Lives with her mom. We broke up a year and a half ago. She’s cute as a button, my little Clancy—you’re going to love her. Say, why don’t we grab something to eat and, uh, get to know each other a little better?” Ethan felt warmth spread up through his body, starting at his toes and spreading on upwards until he felt hornier than a jackalope. “Oh, I don’t know. It seems a bit early for dinner,” he said in his huskiest voice. Logan’s smile broadened. “Oh, yeah? You got something else in mind?” Ethan’s fingers played coyly down the buttons of Logan’s shirt. “Well, we could get straight to the getting to know each other better.” “Here? Now?” Logan chuckled, a deep, low rumble that spoke straight to Ethan’s libido. And it liked what it heard. “Damn, you’ve got balls, that’s for sure.” “Would you like me to prove it to you?” Without waiting for an answer, Ethan nuzzled into Logan’s neck. There was a

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 23 hefty flump, and cold air hit Ethan’s back as Logan pushed the heavy jacket off his shoulders. Ethan drew in a deep breath. “I can tell that ain’t all you got,” Logan growled, his hand cupping Ethan’s groin. Ethan felt a frisson of danger at the thought that those meaty fingers could quite easily have him singing soprano for the rest of his days. Fortunately that didn’t seem to be in Logan’s game plan, as he just gave a gentle caress before moving up to the button of Ethan’s jeans. Oh, God. They were really going to Do It, here in the forest. Suddenly Ethan couldn’t wait for Logan to rip all that ridiculously restricting denim off him. “You know,” Logan was saying, “I wasn’t sure you’d go in for, uh, outdoor encounters.” “Oh, I’m starting to see the advantages in the alfresco lifestyle.” Fumbling wildly, Ethan managed to wrench open Logan’s trousers. “Oh my God, you’re so… wellproportioned,” he gasped. “Is that going to be a problem? I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” Logan said, concern creasing his brow. “Oh, no—” Ethan broke off in surprised delight. About to sink to his knees and worship this incredible specimen of manhood in front of him, he found Logan had beaten him to it. The kneeling, that was. Not the worshipping bit—or was it? There was an expression very like reverence on Logan’s hirsute features as the big man gently lifted Ethan’s right foot off the ground and slipped it out of its trainer. “That tickles,” Ethan protested weakly, as a whiskery kiss was pressed to his newly sockless instep. His eyes opened wider than his camera lens as a hot, wet tongue rasped its way

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 24 down to his toes. “That’s… no one’s ever done that before,” he gasped as sensation tingled all the way up his spine. “Their loss,” Logan grunted. “Damn, you’ve got soft skin. And the prettiest feet I’ve seen this side of the Atlantic.” He pressed a kiss to the top of each toe in turn. “I exfoliate,” Ethan admitted, only a very small part of his mind on his words. Most of his attention was focused on the incredibly erotic sight of the fearsome hunter, apparently tamed by Ethan’s size sevens. “And use foot lotion. Oh, God!” he added, as Logan sucked on his big toe like it was something else entirely. Was it possible to come from having your toes sucked? Ethan could feel every sweep of that tongue in his cock and balls. There were clearly some very strange cross-circuits in his nervous system. Not that he was complaining. Oh, dear God, no. “Mmm, peppermint.” Logan hummed with approval around the favored digit, and Ethan abandoned all attempts at speech and settled for just whimpering with pleasure. His whimpers turned plaintive as Logan pulled off with a pop. “Don’t stop.” Logan grinned. “I got something better in mind. If you’re sure about this,” he added, stroking his massive erection with an understandably smug air. “Oh, I’m sure,” Ethan sighed happily. “I’ll just bend over and think of England.” “England, shmengland. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be whistling Dixie and singing The Star-Spangled Banner,” Logan growled. “As long as you stand up when I follow it with God Save the Queen,” Ethan teased, letting himself be manhandled

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 25 around and leaned against a sturdy oak tree. The rough bark was exquisite torture on his bare chest as his jeans were yanked down to his ankles. He heard Logan spit, then felt himself breached by one improbably thick finger. Or… toe? Ethan risked a look over his shoulder. No, that was definitely a finger. Ah, well, there was always next time. Meanwhile, in the here and now—Ethan yelped as that questing finger found his prostate. “I always get what I’m after,” Logan rumbled in his ear. After teasing him mercilessly for what seemed like decades—Ethan half expected to see the trees cycling through the seasons, shedding their leaves like confetti and sprouting them again like little green hard-ons—the finger retreated. Ethan heard the rip of a condom packet. Naturally. Logan was very much the Boy Scout type; obviously he would have come prepared. Strong hands kneaded his buttocks, and Ethan yelped again as his jutting cock rubbed against the bark of the tree that supported him. He wasn’t sure if it was pain or pleasure, but either seemed equally good right now. “You… I…,” he stuttered incoherently. “Want me to take care of that?” A beefy hand wrapped around Ethan’s cock, just as something much, much larger than a finger nudged at his entrance. Ethan tried to whimper in an affirmative fashion. He’d have nodded, but in his current state of total lack of coordination he’d probably have brained himself against the tree trunk. Fortunately Logan seemed to understand, as with a care belying his size, he eased into Ethan’s welcoming body. Ethan felt himself filled, taken, possessed by this hulk of a man. Logan’s thick thatch of pubic hair tickled his buttocks just as that bushy beard scratched his neck. When

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here | JL Merrow | 26 Logan pressed a kiss to his shoulder, Ethan was once more overwhelmed by the gentleness of it. Then Logan started to move. Ethan clung onto the tree trunk for support as Logan slammed in and out of him, hitting his gland with every thrust. His vision was blurring and he barely knew which way was up, lost in a forest of sensation. Rough fingers worked his cock expertly, bringing him to the edge of climax faster than a speeding rabbit. “Wait—going to—ahhh!” Logan’s mouth was Ethan’s undoing. That wicked tongue rasped once along Ethan’s neck—and then Logan bit down, just hard enough to send Ethan rocketing over the edge, his orgasm shooting out over the bark in front of him. Ethan shivered—and with a shudder that must have registered on the Richter scale, Logan roared and followed him down the rabbit hole.

UNSEEN behind a tree, the jackalope nibbled thoughtfully on a frond of bracken as it watched them. It had been unsure whether to act, at first—had the furry one been hurting the smaller human? But no—it seemed they were merely mating. The jackalope’s ears twitched in approval, and its heartbeat quickened as its thoughts turned to its own doe. It would be safe to leave the humans. The one some instinct had prompted it to dub “The Bunny Whisperer” was in no danger. But if ever he was again, the jackalope would be waiting.

Get the whole package at http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

About the Author

JL MERROW is that rare beast, an English person who refuses to drink tea. She read natural sciences at Cambridge, where she learned many things, chief amongst which was that she never wanted to see the inside of a lab again. Her one regret is that she never mastered the ability of punting one-handed whilst holding a glass of champagne. She has had over thirty short stories and novellas published by Dreamspinner Press, Torquere Press, and Samhain Publishing, among others. Camwolf, a paranormal romance, is her first novel, and her second, Wight Mischief, a romantic thriller, will be published in November 2011. Visit JL’s web site at http://www.jlmerrow.com.

More Daily Dose and Advent Calendar packages

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

Copyright

Hairy, Horny, and Over Here ©Copyright JL Merrow, 2011 Published by Dreamspinner Press 4760 Preston Road Suite 244-149 Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. Cover Art by Catt Ford This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 4760 Preston Road, Suite 244-149, Frisco, TX 75034 http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/ Released in the United States of America June 2011 eBook Edition eBook ISBN: 978-1-61372-027-1