Specula (Taste Test)

Edited by Mychael Black

Table of Contents

Something Better by Sean Michael - 2

Suddenly, Finally by Cassidy Ryan - 13

Zero's Fist by Kiernan Kelly - 27

Author Bios - 45

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 1

Something Better

By Sean Michael

The Stallions was one of the many gay resorts in Key West. It was, in fact, one of the best and

also one of the most expensive. Manny knew he was lucky to be able to spend his block of days

off there, though it kind of seemed like a busman's holiday given he was coming off a month of

serving customers at the very same resort.

Still, he didn't have to pay for anything and for five days he got to indulge in the same perks as

the rich folks.

He wandered out onto the beach, wearing nothing more than a pair of swimming trunks and flip-

flops, a towel over his right shoulder. Not that much different from his uniform, really, though

the shorts weren't red and didn't sport black irises.

He scanned the chairs, initially looking for one that was isolated from the regular guests. His

eyes lit on a hottie he recognized. The guy had been here a couple days already. He had wretched

taste in clothes, but he was hot enough that it didn't matter.

Unfortunately, he was with someone. The good ones always were.

However, he wasn't with anyone right now. In fact, the guy was looking a little like a whipped

puppy.

Curious, Manny made his way over. "This chair taken?" he asked, pointing to the deck chair next

to the stud.

"Nope. Take away." He got a half-smile, a nod.

"Thanks, man." He'd never actually caught the guy's name -- he hadn't managed to serve the guy

or his boyfriend -- so he dropped his towel on the chair and held out his hand. "I'm Manny."

"Hey, Manny. I'm Dan." The guy was solid, fine as hell.

Manny reluctantly took his hand back and settled in the chair. "So where's your guy?" He wasn't

going to poach on anyone's territory, but that didn't mean he couldn't sit and pretend a little.

"I assume he's in Fort Lauderdale with that big Swede who was in the Presidential Suite."

Oh. Ow.

"Really? Man, he looked smarter than that. I wouldn't have put him as the type to trade down."

"Well, apparently he didn't think he was." He got another one of those grins. "Hell, after eight

years, maybe he got bored."

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 2

"Eight years? And he dumps you on vacation? Oh, man." Manny shook his head. What could he say? "That's a real asshole thing to do. Maybe you're better off without him." "Yeah, that's what I keep telling myself. What about you, man?" "Footloose and fancy free -- I'm a server here. Got a few days off." He could think of worse ways to spend them, too, than in Dan's company. Much worse. "That's a kick-ass perk. Hell, I could stay right here, instead of heading back to Lubbock." "Yeah, it's nice, isn't it? Nicer if you have someone to spend the time with..." He let the comment hang. If Dan didn't want to be on his own, Manny would be more than happy to spend some time. "Yeah." Dan's lips twisted and the look was a little bitter. "This place was a lot more fun when I wasn't pouting and shit." "Well, I haven't got anyone to hang out with, so maybe we could keep each other company. If someone as hot as you doesn't mind being seen with me." He hoped he wasn't being creepy, trying to pick Dan up so soon after the man had been dumped, but he'd wanted the guy from when he'd first seen that tight little butt. "Hot?" The brightest blue eyes on Earth went wide, appearing over the top of the sunglasses. "Me?" "Shit, yeah." He gave Dan a once-over, feeling bolder than hell, but enjoying the view too damn much not to do it. "You're a stud, Dan." That flat belly went tight and red, Dan blushing hard. "That's nice to hear." "Well, it's true. I was kind of disappointed when I first saw you because you were obviously not on your own. Not to celebrate your getting dumped or anything, but it's lucky for me, you know?" Those sunglasses came right down, blue eyes looking him up and down, slow and easy. "I'm not sure you're the lucky one." "I just can't believe you don't know how hot you are, man." Dan was just a little older than him, built solid. Add those blue eyes and the long dark hair and he was a wet dream come true. "I'm a cubicle geek, man. Nothing exciting." That grin went sheepish. "And telling the hottie coming onto you that you're boring? Dumb." "You think I'm a hottie?" Manny beamed. He was at the age most guys wanted you to be a twink and he so wasn't.

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 3

"Yep. Solid, studly. Great smile." Dan's cock started filling. "You interested in a swim?

Something at the pool bar?"

Manny nodded, admiring the view, enjoying being admired back. "Yeah, if it's with you, I'm

interested."

"Cool." Dan rolled up, muscles rippling, one hand offered.

Manny reached up and half stood, half let Dan pull him up. He didn't drop Dan's hand as they

headed across the sand to the pool.

The water was warm, the sun shining down. They slid across the water to the bar, where Pablo

was flexing.

"You ask for a Stallion Special and Pablo will put in a huge over-the-top show. It's kind of

fascinating." Manny copped a feel of that sweet ass as they slid onto the underwater stools at the

bar.

"Yeah? Two Stallion Specials, please, sir." Oh, that accent was sweet as fuck.

"You got it!" Pablo gave Dan a wide smile and him a wink and began his song and dance. He

was the best flare bartender the Stallions had.

Manny just grinned and slid his hand over so he was touching Dan. Dan's leg floated over toward

him, bouncing just a little. He met Dan's eyes, smiling, rolling his eyes a little as Pablo put on his

show, the whole thing amazingly flashy.

Dan seemed to like it, though, hooting and laughing and clapping.

And wasn't that something to look at. He was going to have to spend the next four days making

sure that smile stayed there.

Pablo poured their drinks with one last flourish, little umbrellas and slices of lime on the edges.

"Man, that rocked!" Dan applauded hard, laughing.

Paulo gave them a little bow. "Thanks, man." And then Paulo did that thing where his pecs

bounced, once after the other, gave them a last grin, and turned to the couple that had just pulled

up to the bar.

"I hope you like the drink as much as you liked the show." Manny took a sip of his own. The

Stallion Special was basically a lime margarita slushy, which made them perfect for sipping out

under the sun.

"Mmm. Tart. Sweet. Cold. I approve." They slipped into the water, sipping their drinks.

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 4

"So what do you do when you're not kicking back at the Stallion?"

"I'm a web designer. I run the e-commerce division at Delite Toys. You know, the guys that

made the Bouncing Jimbo?"

Oh, dude. That was almost cool.

"That sounds pretty neat -- you enjoy it?"

"Sometimes. It's a job, you know? Good money, good benefits. Lots of the same old thing."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Even paradise can get repetitive." He grinned and nudged Dan.

"It's looking up today, though."

"You know it." They found a little corner out of the way of the guys playing volleyball. Dan's

free hand was on the small of his back, thumb moving in lazy circles.

Just a simple touch, but it felt good, felt nice. He found himself smiling at Dan, grinning like

some sort of goof.

"So, what all do you like to do with your free time?"

"Mostly I soak in the sun, play volleyball, swim, watch TV. Go on the cruises and stuff." Manny

leaned in and kissed Dan's cheek. "Wish I was with the hottest guy here. Which I don't have to

do today, because I already am."

"You're going to give me a swelled head..." Dan's hand slipped down his belly, petting nice and

easy.

He bit his lip, a bit of a gasp coming out of him. Dan sure did know how to touch. "That would make us even," he managed, his cock filling on up. "This good?" He watched Dan's throat work, the sweet drink sliding down.

"Oh, yeah. Maybe a little public for where I hope we're heading, but it's good." His voice had

grown husky as Dan touched him.

"I'm in no hurry. I like anticipation."

"Yeah? I guess I'm used to the wham-bam type." He wasn't complaining, though. Not at all.

"That's not my style. I'm more of the slow and steady." Oh, he imagined so.

"I like the sound of that." He reached out to do some touching of his own, fingers sliding down

Dan's spine.

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 5

"Mmm..." Oh, man. Look at that hard body arch. He could eat Dan up. His fingers stopped at Dan's waistband and he drew small circles around the soft skin there. Yeah, he wanted to eat the man up with a spoon. "Mmm. You're something else, man." Dan's cock was firming for him, getting heavy, hard. It was a good thing they were in the water, because he was getting hard himself, the two of them with tell-tale bulges in their swimming trunks. "I was thinking the same thing about you." He let his hand drop to Dan's ass. That butt was taut in his hands, round and fully packed. He squeezed it. He wanted to see it naked, feel it up skin on skin. Dan nudged him back a little, further into the shadows. "This okay?" "Oh, yeah." He squeezed Dan's ass again, and then slipped his fingers inside the waistband, feeling daring. "Oh, damn." Dan stepped closer, cock stiff against his thigh. He took a deep breath and leaned against the rocks that made up this end of the pool's edge, fingers pressing, encouraging Dan to come even closer. Dan floated right in between his thighs, fingers on his ribs, counting, touching. One. Two. Three. Four. He closed his eyes, groaning, his hand slipping lower. Oh, man, Dan's crack was hot. "That's a sweet sound. You into kissing, man?" Dan's breath was right there on the corner of his mouth, tongue just barely touching him. "Yeah." A lot of guys weren't, he knew, but he'd always liked it, liked how it felt close. He touched his tongue to Dan's. "Oh." Yeah. Yeah, man. Oh. Shit. Lime and sugar and ice and fuck him, that was hot. He opened wide, tongue teasing Dan's to come back into his mouth. As soon as it did, he started sucking, moaning as he rubbed Dan's tongue with his own. Dan's fingers were hot as hell on the back of his neck, stroking in firm, steady circles. Everything else faded away, the water, the sand, the sun, the volleyball, and the bar. There was nothing but him and Dan and the heat building between them. And Jesus, Dan kissed like there wasn't anything else on Earth. Not anything anywhere. He could come from this eventually, from these intense and focused kisses. One of Dan's hands ran down his back, drew them closer together, their hips bumping and rolling. The netting on the inside of his swimming trunks was maddening against his cock, but at

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 6

the same time, he wasn't about to stop. Their bellies slid together, the tiny hairs there tugging and pulling just a little. Man, he was going to come. He was -- any second now. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and moved faster. Fuck. Fuck, he. Oh, damn. Dan grabbed his ass, fingers almost bruising, and the kiss just sent him flying. He cried out into Dan's mouth, shuddering as heat sprayed out from his cock, warming his skin for half a second before being taken away by the water. "Oh. Oh, man." Dan nuzzled his cheek, lips open, just panting for him.

His hands opened and closed over Dan's ass, as he stared, a little bit stunned.

"You. You okay, man?" Dan kissed him again, teeth tugging on his bottom lip.

He groaned and his cock twitched, his hands closing on Dan's ass and holding on. "Yeah. That

was. We're..." He nodded, swiping at Dan's lips with his tongue.

"Uh-huh. You want to... I have a room." Dan chuckled, blushed. "You know I have a room,

huh?"

He grinned and slid his hand around, brushing Dan's hard cock through his trunks. "I know. I

want to see it."

"Oh. Oh, okay. 140. Come on." Dan climbed out of the water and reached down to help him out.

He climbed out with Dan's help, glancing around a little self-consciously now that he'd come.

Right there in the pool. Dan's arm wrapped around his waist, fingers rubbing his side. That had him not caring what anyone thought. It had his cock doing its damnedest to surge back to life, too. "You're going to make me hard again." "That's sort of the point, isn't it?" They walked across the pool area, onto the little path covered with palm trees and jasmine.

"Yeah, but I already got to go -- you're next." He might not be the most experienced guy at the

resort, but he knew that much.

"Hell, maybe we'll go together. Just think about how long you could fuck me on a two-fer."

"You want me to do you?" His cock forgot all about just coming and surged back to hard at that.

He'd never expected a stud like Dan to let him do the doing.

"Hell, yes. You've got a great cock and I haven't had a good fuck in too long."

Heat went all through him. "Are we there yet?"

"Almost." They headed down the hall and Dan pulled out his card key, opening the door.

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 7

He knew what the rooms looked like. Dan's was near the top end, with an entire wall in glass looking out over the beach, a private deck with a hot tub, and a king-sized bed. That's where Manny's gaze went and he headed straight for it, more than a little eager and still holding tight to Dan's hand. "You have stuff?" Go him for remembering they needed it.

"I do." He got a grin, Dan pushing close for a kiss.

"Thank God." Manny laughed, mouth landing on Dan's, arms wrapping around the man's waist.

Oh, Dan tasted even better now that they were alone and could just go at it.

"Jesus, you didn't wait for me to be gone three days before you found someone else?" The

bathroom door opened and Dan's eyes went wide as the asshole who'd left sauntered out.

Dan didn't let him go, just turned to stare. "Get out."

"What?"

"Get out." The guy's mouth started moving and Dan lifted one hand. "I'm not interested and I'm

busy. Leave the key card on the table and get out."

Manny watched with wide eyes. The guy Dan was telling to get out was almost as much of a stud

as Dan. Almost. And Manny's cock just went that much harder because Dan wasn't even

considering doing anything but staying with him. He squeezed Dan's waist, silently being

supportive.

"You think that little hottie wants you, Dan? I mean, shit, kid. He's a boring fuck with a boring

life." The guy looked... just mean. Flat-out mean-spirited.

Manny's hands tightened on Dan's skin. Wow, that was really asshole-y. "You're crazy. I had my

eye on him the minute you guys walked in and I'm glad you dumped him because it meant I

could make my move on the hottest guy here." He didn't even have to lie -- every word was the

truth.

Dan smiled, pointed to the door. "Leave your key card and get out."

"We'll work this shit out when we get home, Dan."

Dan's laughter filled the room. "Oh, I so don't think so, asshole."

"That's if he goes home." Manny wanted to stick his tongue out, but he figured that was his

immature side and he chose not to show it.

"Our home’s not the same anymore. Go hang with your Swede, man."

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 8

As soon as the door closed behind the guy, Manny gave Dan a hard kiss. "Oh, my God, you stayed with him how long?" "Too fucking long." Dan was growling a little, shaking with it. "Asshole." "What a jerk. You deserve better, Dan. Way better. God." He shook his head, hand sliding on Dan's bare back, rubbing and soothing. "I say we forget he even exists." "You do have good ideas, Manny." Dan pulled away, heading over to the door and opening it. He put out the Do Not Disturb sign and then locked the deadbolt. "There. Better." Manny grinned and stripped off his shorts, tossing them toward the bathroom. "Now that's better." Less wet and sticky. "You know it." Dan wiggled out of his own shorts, then headed for the ditty bag on the bedside table. Manny watched, although the right word might have been ogled. He already knew Dan had a great ass, but up close and naked, it was even better. The front side, with those muscled pecs, defined abs, and hard cock pointing up, was enough to make him moan. His hand dropped to his own prick and he started tugging on it as he watched Dan move. He could see Dan's balls, swinging just a little between those muscular thighs. Licking his lips, still pumping himself, he stepped up behind Dan, reaching for those balls with his free hand. "Mmm." Dan spread, bent a little further. It exposed Dan's hole, the wrinkled flesh around it slightly darker than the rest of Dan's skin. Still holding Dan's balls, Manny reached back with his thumb, rubbing a little. Dan didn't say anything, just nodded and pushed back toward his touch. "God, you're sexy, Dan. Make me want so much." He let go of his cock, rubbing it against the back of Dan's thigh as he fingered that little hole. "Yeah? Not boring?" Fuck, like anyone could be bored with this. "Boring's the last word I'd use." He rubbed a little more and then he tugged Dan up, turning the man so he could take a kiss. "I could just kiss you forever and never get bored." Dan's laughter tickled his lips. "I hope you decide to fuck me sooner than forever. The condoms do have an expiration date." He blinked for a moment, then started to laugh. He tugged Dan onto the mattress, laughing harder as they bounced.

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 9

"We'd better make sure we use them up, then. I wouldn't want you to have wasted any money."

"There you go. They take up room in the suitcase, too."

"I might have to hide the suitcase." Manny was only half-teasing. He pressed their lips together,

rolling on the bed with Dan, taking another hot kiss.

Dan pulled him on top, hand cupping the back of his neck. "I have a big fucking suitcase."

"Big enough to fit a cabana boy?" He grinned down at Dan for a minute, the motion of his hips

rolling his prick against Dan's.

"You know it." Dan leaned up, kissed him so hard his eyes rolled.

"Where was that slick?" he asked when Dan finally let him up for breath.

"In that little black bag." Dan's cock was hot, leaking where it rubbed against his skin.

He reached over, his prick gliding along Dan's belly and side. He grabbed a condom while he

was there, too. "God, you feel good, Dan."

"Yeah. I feel fucking amazing."

Grinning, he settled back down between Dan's legs, watching the man's face as he got his fingers

slick and slid them down along the fine skin behind Dan's balls. So soft and hot, it felt amazing.

One of Dan's legs bent, spreading and letting him see that tight hole, that need.

"Stud," he muttered, skating his fingers across Dan's hole, then pushing one in.

"Mmm. Yeah. Yeah, man. Deeper." Look at that man move.

He pushed a second finger in with the first, sending them both deep, looking for Dan's gland.

When he found it, Dan groaned, bucked, riding his touch harder, faster. He added a third finger,

spreading Dan, opening the man for his cock. God, Dan looked good writhing on his fingers like

that. Pink and stretched, that hole slid up and down his fingers, spreading for him, for his cock.

"Enough?" he asked, wanting in.

"No. No, I need your cock, honey. Please."

Yeah, that was what he'd meant. He let his fingers slip away and lined his cock up with that

sweet hole, stretching it as he eased in. Dan took him right in, pushing back, ass rippling around

his cock.

"Oh, fuck. Dan." So tight and hot and soft, like silk wrapping around his prick.

A Torquere Press Taste Test - 10

"Uh-huh. Fuck me. Harder."

He leaned forward, hand on either side of Dan's face, his hips snapping forward. Dan rocked

back, riding his cock so hard it made his eyes roll back. He loved that, loved that Dan didn't just

lie there. He thrust harder, really giving it to Dan. That tight ass slapped against his thighs,

almost burning, hitting him over and over.

Bending, he kissed Dan, gasping into the man's mouth as the change of angle squeezed him

tighter. Dan cried out, the sound filling him, Dan's hands holding tight. Hell, yes. He worked one of his hands between them, wrapping it around Dan's cock, tugging as they moved together. "Oh. Oh, fuck. Yeah. Yeah, honey. Just like that." Yeah, he could tell.

Manny fucked and stroked, hoping that Dan felt as good as he did. Those fucking bright blue

eyes met his and, all of a sudden, he knew. He fucking knew it.

"Oh, God. Now!"

"Yeah." Dan rolled up, shoulders leaving the mattress.

He shouted as Dan's ass squeezed tight around his prick, come shooting from him and filling the

condom. Heat sprayed on his belly, splashing him, wet and thick .

"Oh, God. Yes." Manny dropped down onto Dan, panting, trying to catch his breath.

"Damn. Damn, honey. That's... Wow."

"That was anything but boring." He tilted his head up, kissing the nearest patch of skin.

"We'll have to try again after a bit, see what you think."

"You think I'm going to change my mind? Not a chance."

"Good. Good, because, man, I could keep you for a good while."

"Yeah? I like the sound of that, stud."

"Stud." Dan chuckled, ass squeezing around him.

He groaned, nodded. "You are. You really are."

"Good." Strong arms wrapped around him, tugged the blankets up around them.

Manny slipped out and got rid of the condom before snuggling right in. "Mmm..."

"Mmmhmm. Rest a second; we'll plan round two around supper."

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"Cool. Have you had the surf 'n turf yet? It rocks." And the shrimp was always fresh. It was his

favorite meal.

"Nope. I have the feeling tonight's will be the best supper I'll have had in a month of Sundays."

"I know what I want for dessert."

"Chocolate? Sponge cake?"

Manny shook his head, grinning against Dan's neck. "Cream."

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Suddenly, Finally by Cassidy Ryan A soft breeze fluttered the sheer curtains at windows thrown wide to take full advantage of the warm, early spring day. The room was quiet save for the distant lap of waves on sand and the scratch of pencil on paper as Casey Travis, seated on a stool at a drafting table, worked on his latest graphic novel, his bare foot tapping on the floor in time to a tune playing in his head. A smile played around his lips as the salty scent of the ocean reached his nostrils and the breeze ruffled his dark hair. He glanced over at the clock on the long table that held his materials and, seeing that it was just after eleven, he put down his pencil and got up to get some coffee. A sudden banging on the front door, loud and intrusive in the formerly peaceful atmosphere, made Casey jump, his arm jerking in surprise, knocking over a pot of pencils. He looked at the pencils scattered over the floor, considered picking them up, but another serious of urgent raps on the door had him moving swiftly along the hallway. He pulled the door open with a frown and stared in confusion at the sight before him. Josh Ballard, best friend since their college days, focus of Casey's hottest fantasies, stood on the other side of the threshold, normally neat hair standing out in several different directions, clad not in one of his usual thousand-dollar suits but in a baggy tee-shirt, pajama pants, and untied sneakers, a stuffed backpack slung over one shoulder, a teddy bear-patterned bag over the other, and holding a baby awkwardly in his arms. Casey looked from Josh to the baby -- happily chewing on the collar of Josh's tee-shirt -- and back again. His friend looked like something the cat had dragged in. Casey felt a smile tug at one corner of his mouth. "What did you do?" Josh just gave him a pathetic kicked-puppy look. "Help?" Snorting in amusement, Casey stepped to the side and motioned for Josh to enter. As Josh stumbled past, struggling under the weight of his burdens, a putrid smell reached Casey's nose. He stepped back automatically. "Jesus, man, when was the last time you had a shower?" Josh threw a narrow-eyed look over his shoulder. "You're a funny guy, Travis. The kid's diaper is heavier than he is. I think it might actually be a bio-hazard."

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With a grimace of distaste, Casey closed the door and followed Josh to the living room at a safe distance. Josh dumped his bags on the floor by the sofa and laid the baby down on the rug in front of the fireplace, kneeling beside it. He grabbed the baby bag, dragged it closer, and looked apologetically at Casey. "You might want to leave for a few minutes. This could get ugly." Hovering just inside the doorway, Casey seriously considered taking his friend's advice, but decided to stay. Josh had the look of a man in desperate need of moral support. "Nah, I'm good." But he made no move to get closer to the action. Josh just nodded. Taking a deep breath and a diaper and pack of baby wipes from the bag, he flexed his fingers -- as if psyching himself for the task ahead -- and reached for the tabs on the diaper the baby was wearing. Casey found himself holding his breath as Josh tore the tabs open and pulled the front of the diaper down. "Hey, it's a boy." Casey remarked, but as Josh peeled the diaper further, Casey's eyes widened and his hand flew automatically to cover his nose. "Dear God. You know you're not supposed to give dog food to kids, right?" Josh ignored him, grabbed a handful of wipes, and used them to clean the kid's butt. He looked like he was suppressing a gag. With surprisingly deft movements, Josh rolled up the soiled diaper, pushed it to the side, and replaced it with the clean one. Hand falling away from his nose, Casey looked at Josh, eyes now wide with admiration. "Wow, you're really good at that." "Yeah, well, you don't want to know how much output this little guy can produce. Is there somewhere I can put this?" Josh held up the dirty diaper. "There's a landfill site about seven miles outside town." Casey grinned. Josh smiled, but it was tired and lopsided. Casey took pity on him. "Hang on." He went to the kitchen, found a plastic grocery bag and took it back into the living room. "Put it in here and I'll take it out to the trash." He held the bag open and Josh put the diaper inside. "I'm assuming it won't eat through the bag?" Josh laughed and picked up the baby, who was blowing spit bubbles. "Smart ass." Still holding the bag at arms length, Casey grinned. "Come on, I was just about to make coffee."

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After he deposited the bag in the trash can at the side of the house, Casey returned to the kitchen where he made a pot of coffee and, after a loud rumble from the direction of Josh's stomach, a plate of tuna sandwiches. Holding the baby in his lap, Josh groaned when he saw the food. "Oh, God, I don't remember the last time I had anything to eat." He picked up a sandwich with one hand and attempted to eat it while the baby grabbed at it with a drool-dampened fist. After a brief moment of hesitation, Casey stepped forward. "Here, let me take him." He lifted the baby into his arms as Josh muttered his thanks around a mouthful of food. Casey sat opposite Josh, perched the baby on the table, and looked at him while Josh wolfed down sandwiches as if he hadn't seen food in a week. If Casey had never seen the kid with Josh, he would still have known with certainty that his friend had fathered him. It was like looking at a miniature version of Josh -- from the deep blue eyes to the shape of his mouth and even the dimple in his right cheek. Josh's hair was graying prematurely, in a way that made the blue of his eyes seem even brighter, but Casey could remember a time when Josh's hair had been as dark as the baby's. The kid looked intently at Casey, eyes big and guileless, as if assessing him. Casey felt his heart tug almost painfully at the child's regard, but a laugh suddenly escaped him when the baby, apparently satisfied with what he saw, leaned forward, butted Casey in the nose with his forehead, and drooled on his cheek. "Cute kid. What's his name?" Josh washed down a last bite of sandwich with a drink of coffee. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "Noah. Noah Casey Ballard." Casey's eyes widened in surprise. Josh shrugged. "His mother gave him the first and last, I gave him the middle. I figured if you're going to be his god-father..." He tapped his fingers on his cup. "What do you think?" Feeling a little stunned, Casey looked back at Noah, now clearly fascinated by his own belly button. He felt warmth bloom in his chest and nodded. "I could do that." A wide grin lit up Josh's face. "Excellent." He relaxed back in his chair. "Now, I have some explaining to do." Casey listened as Josh told him about how Vivienne, an ex-lover, had turned up on his doorstep the previous day, handed over Noah, a pile of baby stuff, and an envelope of papers including Noah's birth certificate and a letter signing away her parental rights, telling Josh that she 'couldn't deal', that she was going back to her modeling career in Paris, and it was his turn to be a parent. She'd told Josh that if he didn't want the kid then he could give him up for adoption.

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"Wow. What a prize. And you didn't keep her?" There had been an uncomfortable tension building in the room as Josh talked, but Casey's sarcasm-laden words had the effect of cracking it. It started with a snicker from Josh and before long they were laughing loudly. Noah, stimulated by the sound, was bouncing and waving his arms around. "So, you're keeping him, right?" Casey asked when the laughter died down. Josh was quiet for a minute before reaching out and stroking a hand gently over Noah's head. "Yeah. He smells funny and he's a terrible conversationalist, but he'll be burping the alphabet by the time he's five and it'll give me a chance to get back to finger-painting. That was always my first love, y'know?" "About that smell. I don't think it was all the toxic diaper." Casey grinned, wrinkled up his nose theatrically. "You might want to think about taking a shower." Josh made a show of sniffing a pit and grimacing. "You might be right there." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Okay if I...?" Casey waved him off. "Please. Seriously, please." He looked at Noah, who was back to picking at his own belly button. "I'll take the time to get to know my god-son." Josh nodded, getting up from the table. As he passed by he dropped a hand onto Casey's shoulder and squeezed. Casey raised a hand and covered Josh's for a moment before letting it drop. Casey watched Josh leave the kitchen, listened as he moved through the house and up the stairs to the bathroom. When he heard the bathroom door close, Casey got up from the table, planted Noah on his hip, carried him out the back door, and walked down the beach to the shoreline. Gulls flew overhead and the waves washed over Casey's feet, soaking the bottom of his jeans. He looked at the little fist clutching at his shirt and smiled. "Can I tell you a secret, little man?" He laughed when Noah made a gurgling sound. "I'll take that as a yes. But you have to promise not to spill the beans, okay? Well, see, the thing is, I’ve got it bad for your old man. Have had since we shared a room at college. You want the details?" Noah bounced in his arms. “Okay, kiddo. I guess you have a right to know.” *** Casey walked along the beach with Noah, stopping every now and then to hold the baby and let him splash his feet in the surf. He continued to confide his secret in Noah; how, for ten years he had nursed a crush on Josh, stuck pins in voodoo dolls representing each and every one of the many women with whom Josh had sown his seed, compared every man he had ever met to Josh and found them lacking -- always keeping his language age-appropriate for tender ears.

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He also told Noah that the reason he had left the city and moved out here to the beach was because the crush was not a crush. It was love. The kind that gave you the warm fuzzies, made you smile goofily every time you saw the object of your affections. The kind that kept you awake at night feeling sorry for yourself because it was never going to happen. The kind that made it impossible for a guy to see the other guy every day and not want to blow it all by declaring himself, thus necessitating that he move hundreds of miles away in an attempt to save the best friendship he had ever had. It turned out that Noah was a pretty good listener. He drooled a lot and was a hair puller, but he didn’t interrupt -- apart from the odd burp -- and Casey had faith that Noah would keep his secret. Back in the house they found Josh in the living room, going through the backpack and the baby bag. He was now dressed in cargo pants and a long-sleeved black T-shirt, and his hair curled damply at his collar. Casey couldn’t help looking at the way the material of the pants stretched over Josh’s ass when he bent over, and felt a stirring in his own pants. A little disturbed by his reaction while holding Josh’s son in his arms, Casey dragged his gaze away. “Feeling better?” Casey slumped into a chair with Noah squirming on his lap. Josh smiled and nodded. “Much, thanks.” He took something that looked like a coffee can from the backpack, removed the lid, and frowned. “I need to go to the supermarket. This isn’t going to last him very long.” “You’re giving him coffee?” “Baby formula.” Josh replaced the lid and sat on the edge of the couch. He looked oddly uneasy. Casey frowned. “What?” Josh sighed and fell back against the cushions. Holding the can between his knees, he ran his hands over his face. “I’m going to screw this up. He’s going to wind up in therapy for twenty years, blaming me for everything from the Bush administration to acne.” Shaking his head, Casey laughed. “You’re just feeling a little overwhelmed right now. You’ll be okay.” He took a deep breath before he said his next words. “Stay here a while. I’ll help you.” Any reservations Casey might have had about having Josh resident in his home, no matter how temporarily, vanished in the face of his friend’s wide, relieved smile. “I was hoping you would say that.” The relief was evident in Josh’s voice, too. “Would it be okay for us to stay for a few days? Just until I get a grip on this parenting thing?”

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“You can stay as long as you need to.” Casey meant it. As difficult as it would be for him to have Josh around, there was no way that he would turn his friend away. “Excellent, thanks.” With seemingly renewed energy, Josh grabbed the can of baby formula and jumped up from the sofa. “I better go and make up a bottle. He should be getting hungry soon.” As if on cue, Noah squirmed impatiently and let out an annoyed whine. Casey struggled to keep a hold on the surprisingly strong baby and looked at Josh with something akin to panic in his eyes. Josh laughed. “We have about five minutes until he brings out the big guns -- the kid has an impressive set of lungs on him.” He retrieved a baby bottle from the bag and headed for the kitchen. “Just hang onto him for a minute, yeah?” “Uh, yeah, sure.” Casey stood up with Noah in his arms and followed Josh into the kitchen. Noah’s grumbling was growing in volume, and he was wriggling and kicking his legs. He watched Josh make up the bottle of formula, impressed. Josh was by no means an expert -he got as much of the powder on the counter as he did in the bottle-- but he seemed fairly confident in his actions and only had to check the instructions on the can a couple of times. Shaking the bottle, Josh tested the heat of the formula on the inside of his wrist and reached out to take Noah from Casey’s arms. Casey relinquished the baby, who latched onto the bottle’s nipple and started guzzling noisily. Casey snorted. “Oh, yeah, he’s your kid all right.” Josh threw him a narrow-eyed look. “Go and change, then you can drive us to that Target we passed on the way here.” “Yes, Daddy.” Casey slipped from the room before Josh could make the comment that was clearly forming on his lips. Upstairs he had a quick shower and changed into fresh jeans, a T-shirt, and slipped his feet into sneakers. When he went back down, Josh and Noah were in the living room. Josh was trying to wrestle the struggling baby into a Winnie the Pooh hoodie. Casey lounged in the doorway, smiling as he watched Josh mutter curses under his breath, then sit back on his heels with a look of triumph lighting up his face when the hoodie was zipped. Noah kicked his legs a couple of times for good measure, just missing Josh’s groin by a couple of inches. Casey gasped reflexively, and Josh turned to look at him. “Does Target sell athletic supports?” *** They didn’t find athletic supports, but filled two shopping carts with every baby necessity

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imaginable -- from a list that Josh had printed off the Internet. Vivienne hadn’t left Josh with much for Noah, so they had started off in the baby clothes department. Josh picked out a half dozen sleep suits, some T-shirts, and tiny sweat pants. Casey added the smallest pair of jeans he had ever seen and a pair of Spongebob pajamas. They spent ten minutes arguing over the merits of disposable diapers versus cloth -- Josh won that one by telling Casey that if he wanted cloth then he could do the washing. They managed to find biodegradable disposables and headed for the aisle with the baby bath products. Casey was quite amazed at the range of shampoos, creams, powders, and oils available for the pre-verbal human being. To be on the safe side, they bought bulk; no-tears shampoo, nappy rash cream, powder, toothpaste and brush, scent-free soap, and -- because it was on the list -- teething gel, just in case Noah decided to sprout fangs in the middle of the night. Casey insisted on adding bubble bath because the kids on TV always looked like they were having fun. They added two boxes of forty-eight diapers and wipes, six cans of formula, and some jars of baby food, then headed for the strollers. Another discussion took place during which Noah found himself shuffled from one stroller to another, getting increasingly irritated with each move, until he was hollering at the top of his lungs, drawing the attention of everyone within earshot. They finally selected a camouflage-patterned stroller and Casey calmed Noah by starting a game of peek-a-boo that lasted until they reached the toy aisle. At the sight before them, Casey looked at Josh and their eyes lit up. The first thing Josh put in the cart was a set of multi-colored building blocks. "Hoping he'll follow in your footsteps and become an architect?" Casey waggled a stuffed elephant in front of Noah. The baby grabbed it excitedly and promptly started chewing on the ear. Josh grinned. "Ballard and Son does have a nice ring to it, don't you think?" Casey would have answered, but his gaze fell on something at the other end of the aisle. "Ooh, ball pit." He took off with one of the carts. When he arrived at the ball pit, he fished out three brightly colored plastic balls and juggled them. "Impressed?" he asked when Josh stopped beside him. "Are you asking me or Noah?" Josh picked up another ball and threw it to Casey who, after a slight fumble, incorporated it into the trick. Casey cast a quick glance at Noah, seated in the baby seat of the cart, and found the baby watching him as though mesmerized, blue eyes so like his father's wide, the elephant still clutched in his hands but forgotten for the moment. Pleased with himself, Casey grinned. "Oh, yeah, I am going to kick ass at this godfather thing." Josh snorted. "Yeah, I can just see it. His eighteenth birthday -- I get him a car and you get him a box of condoms and a hooker."

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Catching the balls, Casey dropped them back into the pit. "Don't forget the tattoo." He arched an eyebrow at his friend. "Besides, if he turns out to be anything like his old man, he'll ask for shares in Trojan when he turns sixteen." Josh tried to look outraged, but the twinkle in his eyes belied the expression. Placing his hands over Noah's ears, he asked, "Are you calling me a man-whore?" "Hey, if the rubber fits." Casey laughed when Noah wriggled free of his father's hands with an annoyed sound, clearly aware that he was missing something. "Smart ass." Josh picked up one of the plastic balls and bounced it off Casey's head. Casey caught the ball and looked at it with mock despair, shaking his head. "Violence and coarse language. Such a fine example to set the kid." Josh ignored him and pulled his list out of his pocket again. A half hour later, they left the toy aisle having added two teething rings, a set of story books made of vinyl that could be read in the bath, a floor mat with lots of colors, textures and squeaky buttons, and a mobile for hanging over the travel crib Vivienne had left with Josh. After a quick trip up the food aisles to get something for dinner, they went to the checkout to pay for their haul, had a brief struggle over who was paying, settled on going half on everything, and had a bigger struggle getting the elephant from Noah so that the bar code could be scanned. The checkout girl almost threw the toy back at the baby in order to quiet his indignant screams. By the time they loaded up the car and strapped Noah in his seat, Casey felt a little frazzled and Josh looked exhausted. *** While Josh fed Noah, Casey grilled some burgers. They took their food out onto the beach and spread a blanket for Noah. The evening breeze was warm and gentle, the shushing of the ocean soothing. When he finished eating, Josh stretched out on the sand, arms behind his head, and sighed contentedly. Trying to avoid looking at the patch of skin revealed when Josh's shirt rode up, Casey instead watched Noah, marveling at the baby's flexibility as he sucked on his own toes. A smile turned up Casey's mouth when a soft snore drifted to his ears from Josh's direction. Casey leaned over and placed a hand on his friend's chest, feeling his strong, steady heartbeat under his palm. Josh's eyelids drifted open and his eyes met Casey's. Casey felt his breath catch in his throat. His skin heated and he wanted nothing more than to lower his head and bring their mouths together. Casey swallowed with some difficulty. "Why..." He removed his hand and sat up. "Why don't

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you go and catch an hour's sleep? I'll take care of the rug rat." He had to look away. He heard Josh sit up beside him. "Yeah, if you don't mind, I think I will." He got up, and from the corner of his eye, Casey saw him dust the sand from his pants. Casey tilted his head up and smiled, but didn't quite look at Josh. "No problem, go ahead." Josh seemed to hesitate for a moment, before squeezing Casey's shoulder and heading inside. Casey felt the heat of the contact like a brand. He heard the door swing closed and let his head fall forward with a muttered curse. He laughed, however, at a gurgle from Noah. "Yeah, I know, little man." He sat on the blanket beside Noah. He took the baby’s hands and lifted him until he was sitting up. "We're going to have to watch our language from now on. Among other things. You're really going to keep us on our toes, aren't you?" Noah leaned over and began to gnaw wetly on Casey's hand. "You sure do drool a lot, kid." He grinned. Noticing that the evening was starting to cool down a little, Casey picked Noah up and carried him into the house. They spent an hour in the living room, playing with Noah's new toys. After the fourth time of building a tower with the blocks and watching Noah gleefully knock it over, Casey suspected that there would be no "Ballard and Son". Seated on the sofa with Noah on his lap, Casey read to the baby from his books until he felt Noah begin to go limp in his arms. He carefully lifted him and carried him upstairs to the guest bedroom. Casey moved quietly so as not to wake Josh who was sprawled on the bed, covers kicked to the side, exposing long powerful legs and a tight butt clad in blue boxers. Casey was very tempted to just stand and watch for a while, but it felt like a violation. Turning to the travel crib set up at the end of the bed, he laid Noah down and covered him with a fleecy blanket. The baby opened tired eyes and rubbed a small fist over his face, making sounds of discontent. Casey placed a hand on Noah's stomach and stroked until he settled down, murmuring quietly so as not to wake Josh. With one last glance toward the bed, Casey crept from the room and pulled the door closed behind him. In the months since moving to the beach, Casey had become accustomed to the peace and quiet of his surroundings, but after the activity of the day, the silence felt unnatural. Reluctant to go back downstairs, he went instead to the bathroom where he had a quick shower and brushed his teeth, deciding to just turn in for the night.

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When he came out of the bathroom, wearing a blue toweling robe, he was startled to find Josh leaning against the wall opposite, still wearing only his boxers, arms crossed over his bare chest. Casey felt his pulse pick up and knew that it had nothing to do with the fright. "Uh, sorry, I didn't know you were waiting," he said, feeling a little flustered. "I wasn't waiting to use the bathroom." The words were spoken with a quiet intensity and there was an unfamiliar light in Josh's eyes that froze Casey to the spot. "What...?" His own voice sounded weak and breathy. There was a moment of thick silence, then Josh was moving. Casey took an instinctive step back and bumped into the bathroom door, unable to go any further. Josh, however, kept coming until he had closed the short distance between them. When he reached Casey, his hands came up to cup his face. Stunned, Casey put up no fight when Josh leaned in and brought their mouths together. The kiss started off light, the barest touch of lips, but it quickly became more, deeper. Josh pressed Casey back against the door, opened his mouth, and pushed his tongue against Casey’s lips. With a low groan, Casey allowed the intrusion. His hands came up to rest on Josh’s hips and his eyes closed as he surrendered completely to the one kiss that he had never thought he'd feel. Josh’s fingers speared through Casey’s hair, his tongue dove deep into his mouth, and a moan escaped him. When he finally tore his mouth away, Josh gasped, dragging in air. Casey’s eyes drifted open and his chest heaved. He stared at his friend, confusion and desire clouding his brain. “Wh-- I…” With his hands still on Casey’s face, Josh looked right into his eyes. “Since you left the city, I’ve felt… lost. The only time I ever feel right is when I’m with you. You’re the first thing I think about in the morning and the last thing I think about at night.” He stroked his thumb across Casey’s cheekbone in a caress so tender that Casey felt his eyes sting. “I’ve been tom-catting around for years trying to deny my feelings for you, and I really thought it was working. Then you left, and it was like everything just got more difficult -- work, life.” He dropped his hands to his sides and his shoulders slumped. Casey felt joy bubble up inside him. His head suddenly felt light and a smile of pure happiness curled up his mouth. His lips parted and a puff of laughter escaped, quickly followed by another and another, getting increasingly louder until, still mindful of the baby asleep in the room nearby, he put a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound.

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Josh looked at him, eyes widening with every second that passed, a mixture of horror, anger, and humiliation staining his cheeks red. “You’re laughing? This is funny to you? I’m standing here, spilling my guts, and you’re laughing?” He stumbled backward and made to turn, but Casey grabbed his arm, dragging Josh close again. “Don’t you know what happiness looks like?” He brought his other hand up to rest on Josh’s cheek. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve wanted to see you look at me like that? To touch me like a lover and not a friend?” Unable to stop himself, Casey leaned in and pressed a hard kiss against Josh’s lips. When he pulled back, he looked at Josh, knowing that everything he felt for his friend was there in his eyes, naked and exposed. “What do you want?” he asked, his voice low and husky. Josh raised his hands to rest on Casey’s chest, and the eyes that met Casey’s were sure and confident. “Everything. I want everything. You, me, Noah. I want us.” Emotion swelled in Casey’s chest, threatened to overwhelm him. He looked at the beloved face before him, Josh’s blue eyes so clear and honest, and the pleasure was almost painful. He trailed his hand from Josh’s cheek down to his throat, leaned in, and placed a light kiss to the spot where Josh's pulse beat. He heard Josh’s sharp intake of breath. “Come to bed with me?” Casey asked, throat so tight that the words were barely more than a whisper. Josh didn’t hesitate. He took Casey’s hand and turned them both in the direction of Casey’s bedroom. Casey followed behind in something of a daze. This was no joke, no dream. He wasn’t going to wake up and find that his longings had conjured up yet another fantasy that would float away as soon as he opened his eyes. “Are you sure this is what you want?” Casey asked when they reached his bedroom and Josh turned to face him again, hands going to the belt of Casey’s bathrobe. Josh looked at Casey as his hands undid the knot. “You only get to ask that question once.” He touched his mouth to Casey’s, adding, “I want this. I want you.” The belt fell loose to hang at Casey’s sides and Josh parted the robe so that he could place his hands on Casey’s bare chest. Casey saw Josh’s pupils flare with desire and goose bumps broke out on the skin Josh was caressing. “But, maybe we should talk…” Casey tried again. Josh looked right at him. “Is that what you want, Casey? To talk? Because your body is telling me something altogether different.” With that, he slid a hand down Casey’s body and cupped it over his cock. Casey yelped at the contact. “O-okay, talk can wait.” Josh grinned. “If you insist.” He pushed the robe from Casey’s body and let it fall to the floor.

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His hands moved almost reverently over Casey, stroking the skin of his chest, his shoulders, down his arms, and over his hips. Casey moaned his pleasure as his fingers clenched on Josh’s arms. He swallowed loudly and tried to speak, but his voice was still weak and breathless. “We… we should take this slowly.” A gasp escaped him when the back of Josh’s hand brushed over the tip of his hard cock. “Slowly? It’s been over ten years.” Josh leaned forward and dragged his tongue along the length of Casey’s neck. “If we keep going at that pace, we’ll have twin beds in a retirement home before one of us gets blown.” He moved his mouth back up and dipped his tongue into Casey’s ear. Casey had to force himself not to dig his fingers too deeply into Josh’s arms. “But, this is your first time. I don’t want to hurt you.” He let his head fall to the side to give Josh better access to his earlobe. Josh chuckled against Casey’s neck. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m no Victorian virgin. Manwhore, remember?” One of his hands reached around Casey’s waist, smoothed down his back, and squeezed one of his butt cheeks. Casey felt his balls draw up to his body. He wasn’t going to last a minute. He’d wanted this -fantasized about it -- for so long, and now to have Josh’s hands on him… “But they were all women.” He tried again. “This is a bit different.” Pulling back, Josh looked at Casey. “You’re right, it is different. I never loved any of them. Don’t hold back on me, Casey.” He seemed to blush a little. “I might not know exactly what I’m doing here, but I’m a smart guy. I learn fast. Just… do what you usually do.” Casey’s mouth lifted in a smile and his eyes lit up with mischief. “I don’t know, Josh. Are you sure you’re ready for the whips and chains?” Josh’s eyes went wide for a fraction of a second before narrowing to slits. “You’re a dick.” “Yeah, but you said you loved me and you can’t take it back.” Casey grinned. Wrapping one hand around Casey’s neck, Josh tugged until they were so close they were sharing the same air. “Can we save the talking for later and just get to the good stuff?” He used the hand on Casey’s neck to pull him to the bed. Searching Josh’s face for any sign of fear or hesitation and finding none, Casey placed a hand in the middle of Josh’s chest and pushed. Josh let out a surprised squeal as he fell backward, arms wind-milling. He landed on the bed with a bounce and a loud exhalation of breath, and looked up at Casey still standing over him. “That’s more like it.” He grinned. Casey slipped to his knees, parted Josh’s legs, and settled between them. He moved his hands up to rest low on Josh’s stomach, hovering over the waistband of his boxers. But before he touched,

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he looked into Josh’s eyes. “All joking aside. You say stop, I stop. Okay?” Raising himself up onto his elbows, Josh nodded. “Understood.” With only a slight pause, just to be absolutely sure, Casey turned his attention to Josh’s boxers. He ran his fingers lightly under the elastic, touching warm flesh and a sprinkling of hair. He smiled at Josh’s little gasp of pleasure and tugged the material down over lean hips. His mouth became dry as dust when he had to maneuver the fabric over Josh’s rigid cock -- the final proof that Josh did indeed want this. Casey dragged the boxers down long, powerful legs, threw them to the side, and ran his hands back up from Josh’s ankles to the place where his legs met his body. He dipped his thumbs into the shallow creases and actually saw Josh’s cock pulse in reaction. His lover was straining and wet, and Casey knew that Josh’s need was becoming desperate. He bowed his head and touched his tongue to the small bead of moisture at the tip of Josh’s shaft. Pleasure erupted on his tongue and his lover’s moan sent a bolt of electricity straight to Casey’s balls. Without raising his head, he looked along the length of Josh’s body. Josh had let his head fall back and was gripping his lower lip between his teeth. His body was flushed and his eyelids drooped, as if they were too heavy to hold open. Casey took a moment to just appreciate the sight before opening his mouth and taking Josh in. Josh mumbled something incoherent and laid a hand on Casey’s head. Casey could tell from the tremble in his fingers that Josh was trying not to grip his hair. He stroked his tongue along Josh’s length, relishing every twitch, every little sound that Josh uttered. He stroked his hands along Josh’s thighs and imagined that he could feel every single hair, every pore in his skin. He bobbed his head, taking Josh in as deep as possible then letting him almost slip from his lips, only to dive down again. Josh’s movements were becoming jerky, his breathing labored as he clutched at the comforter with his free hand. Casey could feel the muscles under his fingers tense and knew that it would happen soon. Stretching his mouth wide around Josh, he took him in as deeply as he could and swallowed. Josh howled. His hips rose from the bed, his fingers dug into Casey’s scalp, and he erupted almost violently into Casey’s mouth. Fighting his gag reflex, Casey swallowed convulsively as he pressed his hips to the side of the bed, digging his fingers into Josh’s thighs. The sounds coming from Josh were some of the hottest and most arousing that Casey had ever heard. Letting Josh slip from his mouth, Casey let his head hang as wave after wave of sensation washed over him. Seeking friction, he rubbed against the bed and fought for control of his breath, even as he lost control of his body. As he came, his body jerked and spasmed and his skin felt like it was on fire. Suddenly weak as a kitten, Casey collapsed against Josh’s legs and noticed that his lover’s hand on his head was now gentle, stroking lazily. Casey managed to raise his head to look at Josh, and felt himself smile sappily. “Wow.” The word was barely more than a puff of air.

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Josh grinned and snickered, sounding as wiped as Casey felt. “Just what I was thinking.” He reached his hand out to Casey. “Come on up here.” With no little effort, Casey managed to drag himself up from the floor. They both hauled themselves up the bed so that they were resting back against the pillows. Casey had his head on Josh’s shoulder and Josh had one leg thrown over Casey’s thighs. The gentle shush of the ocean drifted through the window on the evening breeze, and they laughed as they emitted simultaneous sighs of contentment. Casey placed a soft kiss on Josh’s chest. “Welcome home.” Carding his fingers through Casey’s hair, Josh leaned in, pressing their bodies tighter together. “Finally.”

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Zero's Fist

by Kiernan Kelly

Chapter One Spring has always been my favorite time of year. The "Little Death" of winter recedes; the bitter winds blow warmer, the ice cracks and melts in the streams, and the forest comes alive with new births. Pale green, fragile shoots sprout from the frozen earth, the blue jays and cardinals return to add color to the cold gray landscape and their song to the frosty silence. Well, that's what spring used to be like, back when the world was young and still wet behind the ears. When they lived behind the walls of tiny settlements and the sprawling forests belonged to us. Back when we were at the top of the food chain. The world changes, and you either change with it or it buries you. So we evolved. Today, spring means two-for-one pitchers, shiny chrome, and black leather, tattoos and bandannas, and thousands of weekend warriors. I still live in the wild, only now the wilderness is a biker bar called Zero's Fist. Spring means Bike Week in Daytona, and I wouldn't have it any other way. I'm Zero, by the way. I own the bar that bears my name, as well as the classic '65 Harley Panhead parked out front. That bike is my baby, and I've been known to come down hard on the sorry sumbitch who dares to lay a finger on her--hence the "Fist" part of the bar's name. If you come into my bar, you'd better mind your manners. Do not fuck with me. This bar is my territory and my staff is my Pack. Trust me when I say that the last thing you want is a 220pound werewolf coming down on your ass. *** One minute they were snarling at each other, facing off like a pair of rabid, leather-clad dogs fighting over a bone, and the next they were sailing through the air and out the door, courtesy of a giant bald man with the tattoo of a howling wolf on his bulging left bicep. "That's the last time you start shit in my bar! Stay the fuck out!" Zero bellowed before turning his back on the pair of bikers. He stalked back inside, six-feet four of bristling muscle, gaze scanning the crowd that had quieted when he'd sailed over the bar and separated the fighters, holding them easily by the scruffs of their necks like a pair of wayward pups. His green eyes sparked with fury and a warning to anyone who might be thinking of challenging him. No one did. Eyes averted the instant they met his, suddenly fascinated by the scarred tabletops or the glasses of beer that sat before them. Zero huffed and stepped behind the bar. He picked up his towel and returned to polishing glasses, still angry enough to bite, trying to force the alpha back down inside before it tore the head off the nearest customer.

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"Zero?" He remained silent, but his eyes cut to the left. Crystal, the dancer the bikers had been arguing over, stood a few feet away, frozen in the exact spot she'd been in before Zero had manhandled the men outside. She looked frightened enough to wet her g-string. Zero's temper softened immediately, finding a smile for her. He'd known Crystal since the day she'd been born. She was one of Bruno's get, born to the Pack, and this was her first day out on the floor. "It's okay, Crystal. Not your fault, hon. Go on; get back up on the stage. Do your thing. Nobody will bother you anymore." He was rewarded with a tremulous smile. As she turned to climb back up on the small stage, he signaled to Gringo, his beta. "Keep close to her, will ya? Don't let anybody try to touch her. She's jumpy." "No problem, boss," Gringo said, his lips moving almost imperceptibly under the thick growth of mustache and beard that covered most of his face. Zero cast a glance at the old man sitting alone in a corner of the bar. His sire had been drowning his wounded pride in the bar's cheapest whiskey since Zero had taken control of the Pack from him. It had been a necessary evil. The old man had done the unforgivable – he'd put the Pack in danger by going after another pack's territory, and then by giving an unwilling young female to the rival pack as a peace offering rather than fight them when it became apparent that he would lose. Zero had had no choice. The Pack came first, always. All members, from the youngest to the oldest, male or female, were to be protected at all costs, not given as a bribe to save the alpha's skin. For all his age, the old bastard hadn't gone down easily. It had been a battle for dominance that would be retold in the Pack for years to come. Although werewolves usually healed quickly, it had left his sire minus an ear and with a severe limp, and Zero with scars that he'd bear for the rest of his life. Not all of the scars were on the outside of his hide, either. Dante made his choice, Zero thought, picking up another mug. He buffed it with a clean cloth, taking care to remove every trace of fingerprints from the glass. That his lover hadn't chosen to stand by his side after Zero had challenged his sire was still a raw and ragged wound that pained Zero. He hadn't seen hide or hair of Dante since that night. Dante had gone rogue, leaving the shelter of the Pack for parts unknown. Zero didn't even know if he was still alive. What does it matter? Zero asked himself. It's not like I was mated to him. He was free to leave the Pack just like everyone else. Why didn't you mate with him? You loved him. Zero's conscience picked the worst times to start

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internal arguments. Zero's hands tightened around the mug he was cleaning and it shattered. A shower of sparkling glass tinkled to the floor at his feet. No, I didn't. I just loved to fuck him, Zero thought, mentally clamping down on his inner voice, silencing it. We argued all the time. Remember? Butted heads over everything. It's better this way. He refused to acknowledge how much that felt like a lie. Crystal's set finished without further incident. The crowd of bikers was unusually wellmannered, applauding politely with only a few half-hearted wolf whistles thrown in. Seeing a display of Zero's temper and strength usually had that effect on humans, but he knew that their memories were notoriously short. They'd be back to their raucous selves by the next night, and remain that way until someone else stepped over the line and Zero had to exert himself again. Humans were nothing if not predictable. "Last call!" Zero shouted, flicking the light switch twice. The patrons booed, but again without much enthusiasm. Several came up to the bar for refills; none made direct eye contact with Zero. It was as if they sensed that there was more to him than the muscle that showed under his sleeveless T-shirt. It was as if they knew he had teeth and wouldn't hesitate to take a bite out of their asses if they annoyed him. One man sat alone at the far end of the bar. He looked skittish, as if he were going to jump off the stool and right through the nearest window. His eyes, a muddy hazel, kept flicking toward Zero. Andre was a rogue wolf who came sniffing around the edges of Zero's territory a few times a year, whenever he was in town. Since he kept his nose clean and didn't try to move on any of the females of the Pack, Zero tolerated his visits. "Why so nervous, Andre?" Zero asked, sliding a beer in front of the man. "You know the rules of my bar. As long you as respect my property and my Pack, you're safe." He noticed that Andre's fingers tightened around the beer glass, trembling. He wouldn't meet Zero's eyes. Zero could smell that something was up, and it stank like shit on a stick. "Polaris," Andre squeaked, quailing, as if afraid that Zero was going to slug him just because he dared utter the name in Zero's bar. "What about him?" Zero asked through clenched teeth, his body tensing instantly. Andre was right to be wary. The name alone was enough to stir the alpha in Zero. He could feel the wolf bristling under his skin, wanting out, wanting to taste blood. Polaris' Pack had been at war with Zero's since time out of memory. It had been Polaris' Pack who had demanded the young female from Zero's sire. "He's in town with his beta and a handful of lieutenants. He's been scenting out rogues, asking questions about your Pack." Zero leaned in. "What did you tell him?" He could smell the sweat rolling off Andre in sheets.

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Andre reeked of fear, but to his credit, he didn't bolt. "Only that you were alpha now. I swear it, Zero! That's why I came here tonight. To warn you that Polaris was in town." Andre was shaking visibly now, whining softly in between sentences. "He lost his territory on the west coast. Some badass Pack from Los Angeles challenged him and ran him off. The wolves he has with him are all he has left. I think he plans to challenge you for your Pack, Zero." There was something else, something Andre was hiding, but his scent told Zero that what he'd said had been the truth. He chalked the rest up to the fear that was oozing from Andre's pores. "Shit, just what I need. Beer's on the house, Andre. Thanks for the warning." "I'm out of town as of five minutes ago, Zero. You've always been good about letting me in here, so I wanted to tell you, but now I'm gone," Andre said, slipping off the stool. He almost ran to the door and out into the night. Chicken shit, Zero thought, watching the door swing closed behind Andre. He'd always known that Andre had little-to-no backbone. That was the reason he'd never invited Andre to join his Pack. He'd taken in stragglers before, but Zero couldn't trust Andre to stand up and fight for them when their backs were to the wall. Zero signaled Gringo. "I just got word that Polaris is in town, looking for a new territory and a Pack to go with it." "Aw, fuck me! I'll get the lieutenants and-" "You'll get the Pack inside and safe, and that's all you'll do," Zero growled. "Boss, we can take his candy ass down-" "We are not going out looking for trouble. If he comes to my door then I'll tear his fucking throat out, but until that happens, the Pack comes first."

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Chapter Two The pups had been taken out of school, the bar closed. The Pack had been ordered to stay inside the large, rambling house that was attached to the rear of the bar until further notice. Everyone was nervous, edgy. The tang of fear tainted the air. Small arguments erupted, keeping Gringo busy sorting them out. Zero kept to himself, mapping out plans on what to do if -- when -- Polaris came knocking. He didn’t doubt that Polaris would come. Although Zero knew Andre hadn't told him the whole truth, Zero did believe what Andre had told him. The past few days had been quiet -- too quiet. This waiting game they were playing was unnerving. As time went on without any sign of Polaris, Zero's inner wolf began to chomp at the bit, anxious to get it over with, to assure his Pack's safety. Others in the Pack were beginning to grumble among themselves. Zero wasn't deaf to their mutterings. They were resentful at being locked up, kept prisoners in their own home. They wanted their lives back. Even Gringo, who had never once in the past shown any signs of defiance, was beginning to show doubt. Nothing major, nothing Zero could call him on, just subtle looks and posturing that still got the message across. For the first time in the years since he'd taken over the Pack, Zero began to doubt himself and his choices. Maybe he was putting too much credence into Andre's warning. Maybe he'd overreacted. Maybe sitting in the dark waiting for Polaris to show his hand was a mistake. Finally, in the early afternoon of the fifth day of the Pack's self-siege, he made a decision. "Gringo! Come on. I'm done waiting for him to make his fucking move. We're going out to see if we can smoke Polaris out of whatever hole he's hiding in," Zero said, shrugging into his jacket. Black leather, embroidered with Zero's Fist across the back, decorated with metal studs, zippers, and buckles, it made him look even bigger and meaner than he was, and he knew it. Taking two lieutenants in addition to Gringo, leaving two others in charge of the Pack, the four men revved the motors of their choppers and headed off down the street, riding two abreast. They covered every street in town, cruising slowly, putting themselves out there. If Polaris was planning on trying to take Zero down, Zero was handing him his chance on a gleaming silver Panhead. Night was falling by the time Zero decided to head back to the bar. The afternoon was a bust as far as he was concerned, and so was the threat posed by Polaris. Either he wasn't in town, or he was holed up so deep, Zero would need a backhoe to get at him. There had been no sign of Polaris or any of his lieutenants. The only people Zero encountered were the usual crowds of bikers, residents, cops, and a group of early Spring Breakers. None were werewolves. Andre must have been misinformed. If Polaris was in town, surely he would have seen Zero or

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scented him. He would have made his presence known, if only to bait Zero. That was it, the end of it. Starting in the morning Zero's Pack would go back to their lives, their everyday routines. *** Andre crouched in wolf-form in the shadow of a dumpster across the street from the bar, watching as Zero and his men left on their choppers. He'd been there ever since leaving the bar four nights ago, relying on the stench of garbage to mask his scent and surviving by going dumpster-diving. He'd caught a rat once, the only fresh meat he'd had since he'd left the bar. To leave his post prematurely would mean Andre's death. Polaris had made that crystal clear when he and his beta had burst into Andre's hotel room and beat the living snot out of him a week ago. He had been allowed to live only because Polaris wanted him to deliver the message to Zero. Polaris was a sly bastard. He'd known that Zero would pull his Pack in close, hold them there, protecting them. He'd also known that Zero would eventually lose patience and go looking for Polaris. That was the moment Andre had been waiting for. As soon as Zero's exhaust faded and the choppers were out of sight, he was off, running full-tilt toward the Ocean View Motel and room 315 where Polaris and his lieutenants waited. *** The tall figure dressed in black crouched low, invisible in the darkness. His perch at the edge of the roof provided a perfect view of the rectangular beach motel across the street. From this angle, he could see both sides of the motel and the rows of identical doors that lined its two floors, the greenish pool, and the parking lot. No one could make a move down there without him seeing it. Dante had been on the roof for a week, leaving only to grab a quick bite when his stomach cramped with hunger. He'd taken up his post when Polaris and his band of Merry Assholes had pulled into Daytona, and had been watching them ever since. Zero. The name was always floating around the edges of Dante's consciousness, and the smallest thing could bring Zero's face looming up in his mind's eye. He thought the mnemonic portrait would have faded with time, becoming ghostly, details lost to the years. Instead, it remained razorsharp. Dante remembered every facet of Zero's puss, his body, his personality, from the small scar under his right eye to the way he'd pursed his lips when lost in thought. He remembered the green of Zero's eyes, spring green, vibrant under heavy lids, and the rough timbre of his voice. The way Zero loved head, both getting and giving it, and the noises he made when he came. Suddenly, Dante's tongue came alive with the memory of the way Zero had tasted. His mouth watered, his cock filling in sympathy. No other man Dante had fucked since had tasted the same.

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None -- and there had been many -- had even come close to satisfying Dante the way Zero had. None had come close to pissing him off as much, either. He'd never been able to bring himself to agree with Zero on anything except when and where to have sex. How they fucked was another matter entirely. Dante was an alpha and a top. So was Zero. Two alphas, both with a strong need to show dominance, resulted in frequently bloodied noses, black eyes, and various bumps and bruises, yet they couldn't seem to stay away from each other. No sooner had they finished that Dante found himself hardening again, eager for Zero, wanting him. It was a sick and twisted relationship, Dante reminded himself. That's why he'd left when Zero had become leader of the Pack. His pride hadn't been able to handle Zero's new status. He'd figured that they'd end up killing each other sooner or later. At least, that's what he wanted to believe. Sometimes when he was drunk and unable to lie to himself, the truth would surface. He'd been too goddamn frightened that he'd roll over and show his belly. That he might concede dominance to Zero once and for all… and the possibility existed that he might not hate being submissive. That somehow, someway, Dante might want to be dominated. The thought scared the shit out of Dante, and he buried it whenever it tried to surface. No, he'd left because he was afraid they'd kill each other. That was his story, and he was sticking to it. The distance he'd put between himself and Zero made it much easier for him to believe it, too. Until the day Dante had heard about Polaris' plans, that is. He hadn't even considered the ramifications of going back when word of the planned attack had reached his ears. All that had mattered was that Zero and the Pack might be in danger. He'd packed his duffle, revved his bike, and taken to the road, leaving his new life behind without ever once looking back. He'd chosen to watch, rather than seek out Zero and fill him in, only because he'd hoped to head Polaris off before he attacked. If Dante could take care of the problem himself, there would be no reason for him to see Zero at all, no need to dredge up the memories and hunger. Now Dante was hunkered on a rooftop watching a flea-trap of a motel, knowing that Zero was within spitting distance, and the ghosts were too strong and numerous to put to rest. He'd been wrong. He was going to have to face Zero sooner or later, and as he watched Andre, Polaris' spy, scuttle through the shadows to the motel, he realized his time had run out. Standing up, he stretched to his full height, his hand falling to pat the comforting weight of the Bowie that rested in a sheath strapped to his right thigh.

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It was almost too late before he smelled them. His hand whipped his knife out as he spun on his heel. There were two of them, both in wolf-form, big timbers. One he recognized as Salty, Polaris' beta. The other was a mangier, older wolf whose name Dante didn't know. The older male was still lethal despite his age, judging by the way his muscles bunched under his hide. They approached Dante, teeth bared, growls rumbling in their chests. The wolves split off before they were in arm's reach, each veering to opposite sides. They hadn't happened on him by chance, Dante realized. They'd known he was there -- this was a coordinated attack. They'd snuck up on him, staying downwind, leaving him no time to shed his clothing and shift. Dante's eyes darted from side to side, watching both, tossing his knife from hand to hand. Bring it on, he thought, and a split second later, they did.

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Chapter Three Zero pulled the Panhead into its usual spot at the curb in front of the bar, but left it idling as he stared at the blackened windows. Something didn't smell right. He held his hand up to Gringo and the others, warning them to stay alert, to stay silent. He scented the air, his keen sense of smell discerning the multitude of odors in the air instantly. Exhaust fumes, sweat, beer, whiskey, garbage from the dumpster across the street, moo goo gai pan and egg rolls from the Chinese food place next door, and under them all, something else. It was the something else that made the hair on the back of his neck and along his arms rise. Wolves. Strangers who did not belong to Zero's Pack had been here in his territory not long ago. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest as he swung his leg over and dismounted, every fiber of his being strung tight, his teeth bared. His nose caught Polaris' scent, infuriating him. Zero didn't bother deciphering the other scents. He was ready to Change, could feel the wolf inside howling to be set free, fury boiling his blood. Suddenly a tall shape filled the doorway, a man with shoulders so broad they brushed either side of the frame. Long dark hair blended seamlessly with the shadows of the building, hiding his identity, but nothing could disguise his scent from Zero. It was nearly enough to shock him out of his rage. Dante. "What the fuck are you doing in my bar?" Zero growled, hands clenching into mallet-sized fists. If Dante were a part of Polaris' pack, no shared history with Zero would save him. "Nice to see you, too." Zero ignored his sarcasm. "Why are you here, Dante? Where's Polaris?" "Here and gone. I got here too late to stop him." The words chilled Zero to his core. There was no deception in Dante's scent. He was telling the truth. "What happened?" "I was on the west coast and heard that Polaris had lost his pack. I followed him out here. I found that little asshole, Andre, bleeding in an alley behind a motel not far from here. He spilled his guts." Dante stepped into the glow of the streetlight. He hadn't changed much over the years, except to mature from a beautiful youth into a devastatingly handsome adult. His hair was still inky black, silky, and he wore it loose and long just as he had when Zero had last seen him. He was dressed

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in ripped jeans and a tight T-shirt under a long, flowing black leather coat, but Zero remembered the toned and sculpted body the clothing hid. Zero knew that body intimately, how it tasted, how it had felt writhing under his own. "Polaris took one of the cubs, Zero." Dante's voice was like a bucket of ice water, shocking Zero into movement. He howled, rushing past Dante into the bar, out the back door, and into the house. The stench of Polaris and his lieutenants was everywhere. And blood. Lots of it, splattered over the walkway, the steps, splashed over the doorjamb. Bodies lay crumpled in pools of dark crimson, just inside the door. Zero's men had been slashed and bitten so severely that Zero could only discern their identity through scent. Polaris hadn't been fooling around. He'd known what he wanted, what he'd be up against, and he had come prepared. He'd sliced his way through two of Zero's best men and had made damn sure they wouldn't be able to heal. Shaking with rage, fighting to remain in his man-form, Zero ignored the howls of grief from Gringo and his other men, and headed to the bedrooms. The first six were empty. He found the rest of his pack in the back bedroom, huddled together and whining with fear. He did a quick, mental head count. "Brynna is missing," he said, almost to himself. Six years old, she was a gray timber in her wolfform and a dark-haired child with scabbed knees and a lilting laugh in her human skin. "He's going to force you to come to him on his terms," Dante said. Zero had almost forgotten he was there. "This isn't going to be a fair fight." "No shit," Zero spat. He closed his eyes for a minute, struggling for the control that seemed to be slipping away with each passing moment before turning his attention back to his Pack. There was a lot of work to do, beginning with burying their dead. He signaled Gringo, talking in hushed tones to spare the rest as much as he could. It was going to be a long night. Turning, Zero noticed, for the first time, how pale Dante looked. "What the fuck happened to you?" Zero asked. "Polaris' wolves ambushed me," Dante said. :"It's nothing. I'll live. They're staying at the Ocean View -- at least, that's where they were." "Aw, fuck me. You couldn't come and tell me, huh? Same ol' Dante, the big, tough lone wolf."

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"I thought I could handle them." "You did a great job." "I didn't know that they were planning a direct attack. That's not Polaris' style." "You're still a stubborn asshole, aren't you?" "Yeah, well, you're still an arrogant son of a bitch." Zero grunted irritably. Dante hadn't changed an iota since he'd left. He was still the most muleheaded man Zero had ever met, but he had to admit -- even it was only to himself -- that it felt good to have Dante back again. "Get those scratches patched up and some food into you. I've got a cub to find." "I'm going with you," Dante said. His eyes hardened, daring Zero to contradict him. "The only place you're going is to bed. Don't be a jackass." "Stop mothering me. I made it all these years on my own." Dante jerked away from Zero, swaying unsteadily on his feet. "Yeah, I can see how well you've done. Letting a couple of pussy wolves sneak up on you…" "Fuck you." "No thanks. You couldn't fuck your way out of a paper bag right now." Zero gave Dante a nonetoo-gentle push toward two of his females, who practically had to catch him. "Take him and patch him up. I'm taking Gringo and the boys and going after Brynna. If he tries to follow, shoot him." *** Zero hunkered on his haunches in the parking lot of the motel, hidden between a huge black Suburban and a smaller Bronco. Behind him, Gringo and his two surviving lieutenants waited for his signal. All were naked in preparation of a swift Change, their skin pale in the darkness. He scented the air, nostrils flaring, and caught the tang of strange wolves on the night breeze. Polaris was close. He would have known that Zero would come after Brynna -- that's why the cowardly bastard had snatched the pup. A muscle twitched in Zero's tightly clenched jaw. Polaris had started this war, but Zero would finish it, and by morning the world would be less a few mangy jackals that masqueraded as wolves. A sound caught his keen ear, the click of a nail on pavement. It came from his right, near the enclosure for the motel pool. It was what he had been waiting for -- a clue to where his enemy waited. He flashed a silent signal to his men even as he let the Change sweep over him. Skin

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rippling, muscles stretching, bones elongating, thick glossy fur covering his body, the entire process took no more than a few heartbeats. Zero bared his teeth and leapt forward, flying over the asphalt in the direction of the pool enclosure. His eyesight was much keener as a wolf than as a man and he quickly picked out several darker splotches in the shadows. The night erupted into howls and whines as the two packs collided. Powerful jaws snapped and claws slashed. Blood scented the air, fresh and coppery, as Zero clamped his teeth on the neck of a red wolf, shaking it like a rag doll and tossing it aside. His sharp eye caught a slinking movement near the corner of the pool and with a snarl, he gave chase. Polaris was a big gray, but not as big or as fast as Zero. Zero closed the distance between them quickly. Then he saw where Polaris was headed. Brynna had been tied to a chain link fence on the other side of the pool. No doubt Polaris intended to use her as a shield against Zero, or as a bargaining chip. He poured on the steam and reached for a mouthful of Polaris' tail just as Polaris got to Brynna. Blood filled Zero's mouth as he clamped down on cartilage, bone, and fur, giving a hard yank backwards. He bit off several inches of Polaris' tail, spitting it out in distaste. The asshole even tasted like a coward, rank and rangy. It wasn't enough to bring Polaris down, but it kept him from getting within biting range of Brynna, who was shaking and whining in her pup form, cowering against the fence. Poor kid, Zero thought. The bastard has her terrified. He wondered what Polaris had done to her since he'd nabbed her. Zero's anger replenished itself, boiling up and spilling over. He turned on Polaris with murder shining in his green eyes. Polaris faced him, tail out straight -- what was left of it, Zero noted with satisfaction -- chest low, teeth bared, snarling ferociously. It had come down to this, alpha against alpha, winner take all. Zero had no intention of losing. Perhaps he was a little overconfident, or perhaps Brynna's cries had distracted him. In either case, he darted in, intending to snap Polaris' neck like a twig, but his jaws closed on air instead. Polaris had twisted to the right, far more quickly than Zero would have guessed he could move. He was like lightning, a gray blur. Zero felt sharp teeth bite into his side. He howled as the sudden pain ripped through him. Suddenly, there was a black streak flying across his field of vision. It took Zero a second to realize that another wolf had joined the fight, a big one, sleek and powerful. Struggling to his feet, he watched Dante grab Polaris' left hind leg and break it with one snap of his jaws. Polaris backed against the fence, injured leg hanging at an odd angle, blood drenching his fur, when Zero padded up to stand at Dante's side. Zero cut his gaze to Dante, his body language speaking volumes. Zero was leader, his cub had been taken. He would deal the killing blow. Dante inclined his head almost imperceptibly, but enough to tell Zero that he'd been understood. This was Zero's kill.

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As much as Zero would have loved to have dragged it out, made Polaris suffer, he knew that Brynna was watching and wanted to spare the child as much as he could. Walking up to Polaris, he looked down for a moment, growling, then sunk his teeth into Polaris' throat, ending his pain and his life. He realized the sounds of battle had ended behind him as well. His men had made short work of the few wolves Polaris had had with him. Shifting into man-form, Zero untied Brynna and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. Zero's only injury was the bite on his left side, but it wasn't too deep or bleeding too badly. He'd be fine. Dante shifted as well. His wounds were bleeding again, Zero noticed. "Can't you just for once obey orders?" Zero growled, although there wasn't any malice in his voice. He knew good and well that if Dante hadn't shown up when he had, things might have gone down differently, although he'd never be able to bring himself to say it. "Come on, Zero. I'm tired, I'm sore, you're bleeding, I'm bleeding, and the cub is scared out of her wits. Truce?" Dante asked. Zero felt a smile turn up the corners of his mouth. "Yeah. Truce. Come on, let's get home. I feel the need for a strong drink and a soft bed."

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Chapter Four By the time their wounds had been treated and the Pack settled down, it was nearly dawn. Zero headed for his bedroom, knowing that Dante would follow. He smelled Dante's arousal -- strong, musky, achingly familiar -- and it matched his own. No matter how tired Zero was, no matter that he was feeling the pain of battle in every inch of his bones, Dante's nearness had him as hard as stone. Zero sat on the edge of the bed, letting his head hang down wearily. "Why'd you come back?" he asked as Dante followed him in and closed the door. "Why'd you leave in the first place?" He hadn't meant to ask that last question -- it had slipped out -- but it was the one he'd asked himself most often over the years. Dante sighed and sat next to him. Zero could feel the heat of his skin; he smelled Dante's need even more strongly than before. It made Zero's cock twitch angrily, demanding to be satisfied, his balls feeling like boulders between his thighs. "I guess the answer to both questions is 'fear'." Fear? Zero lifted his head and stared at Dante. That wasn't the answer Zero had expected to hear. He cocked a brow and waited for Dante to explain. "I'm done lying to myself. There was a minute or two on the rooftop when Polaris' men jumped me that I really thought I might not make it out of there alive. I realized something then, Zero. I've wasted a lot of years of my life running. From you, from myself, from what I was afraid I would become if I stayed." "What's that?" "An omega. When you took over the Pack, I was afraid that I would roll over for you. Show you my belly. You're an alpha -- you know how it is, Zero. When we were both just Pack members, it was different. We'd tussle a little, take turns. Once you were Leader, I knew that you'd never concede to me again…and everyone would know." Zero shook his head. "For fuck's sake, Dante, you could never be an omega! What happens between us in here is our own damn business and nobody else's. Did you really think I was so insecure that I wouldn't let you win once in a while?" "Let me win?" There was an unmistakable growl in Dante's voice, and it turned Zero on even more. His belly muscles tightened; the head of his cock grew moist. "Now that's the Dante I remember. All huffing and puffing. Are you ready to blow my house down?" he chuckled. "Come on, I'm kidding. There were plenty of times when you overpowered me, okay? That didn't have to change and didn't have to mean that you'd roll over for everyone else. You would have been my beta, Dante. You were my lover," he said, his voice softening and lowering to a whisper as the words he'd bitten back so many times before rushed out. "You

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would have been my mate."

Dante looked stunned. "We never talked about that before. That's a lifelong commitment, and

you know it."

"I know."

"Are you asking?"

"That depends on what your answer would be."

Dante looked shell-shocked for a minute, but then a slow, sensual smile graced his full lips. "I

was miserable, you know. I thought about you every day. Kept telling myself that I'd done the

right thing, even though I knew it was a lie."

"That's not an answer."

"You need to ask a question before you get an answer."

Zero grunted, rolling his eyes. "Will you? Mate with me?"

"You are such a romantic," Dante snorted.

"Don't make me bitch-slap you."

"Okay, okay…yes," Dante said, laughing. "How's that for an answer?"

"It's the right one, for a change." Zero grinned. He put his hand on Dante's cheek, feeling the

scruff of Dante's beard scrape his palm. "Before we go back to our usual fucked-up selves, I need

to tell you something I should have told you a long time ago. I love you, Dante."

"I know. I love you, too." Dante turned his head and gently kissed Zero's calloused palm. "Now,

speaking of fucked up, how about it? Hard and fast, and don't spare the lube."

"Sweet talker," Zero said. He slipped his hand behind Dante's neck, pulling him closer, suddenly

anxious to taste again the lips that had haunted his dreams.

Dante's kiss was everything Zero remembered. It made him hungry for more, brought his wolf screaming to the surface, snarling and gnashing, struggling to break free, demanding to be satisfied. His teeth found the delicate skin under Dante's jaw, nipping hard enough to elicit a yip and Dante's nails scraping his back. Fuck, I'd almost forgotten how hot he is, what he does to me, he thought as he allowed Dante to pull him to the mattress. Dante's body was like hot buttered steel, writhing beneath him, grinding their bodies together. Every inch of skin that met Dante's flared with heat; every inch left bare ached for contact. Moisture dabbed both their bellies, wet trails left by their engorged cocks.

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Zero didn't think it possible for him to grow any harder than he already was, but his need escalated to a painful pitch as Dante wrapped long legs around his waist, thrusting up against him. "You're making me fucking crazy. I want inside you, now. Roll the fuck over." "Make me," Dante hissed, biting down on Zero's shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. He fought to turn Dante onto his back. Muscles strained, fingers digging into flesh, growling and panting even as they continued to kiss and nip at whatever parts of one another came within range of their mouths. They rolled across the bed to the floor, landing with a thump and a pair of matched grunts. One moment, Zero had Dante on his stomach, his dick digging between the cleft of Dante's ass, and the next, Dante had the upper hand, flipping Zero over and rubbing himself tauntingly over Zero's cheeks. Zero heaved Dante off of him, pinning his shoulders to the floor. "Give," he hissed, going back for another heated kiss. One hand slipped between them, finding Dante's cock, stroking, each movement purposeful, decisive. Zero's brain teetered on the edge of shutting down, his body running on instinct. He needed, he wanted, and the alpha in him would wait no longer. Now, now. Give me. Now. "Only for you," Dante whispered against Zero's lips, his tongue darting in fast and rough, hot and wet, before he spread his legs and lifted his knees to his chest. Zero's breath caught in his throat. He knew what Dante was doing and was momentarily floored by the meaning behind his posture. Dante was showing Zero his belly, submitting. It would be the first time Zero had ever taken him face to face, the first time that Dante hadn't fought him to the bitter, if ecstatic, end. He was touched more deeply than he thought he would be. Pulling back, he looked into Dante's eyes, loving their color, the way they looked back at him, open and honest and most of all, trusting. He reached over to the nightstand, hand searching blindly for the slick. He couldn't tear his eyes away from Dante's, refused to break the connection between them. Without looking, he slathered himself, tossing the tube to the side. Pressing himself against Dante's hole, he took a deep, calming breath. No matter what his wolf said to the contrary, he refused to simply take. Not this time, maybe not ever again. If Dante could give to him, then Zero would return the favor in spades. Zero forced himself to push in slowly, inch by inch, feeling Dante's body envelop him in a searing, silky sheath. He watched Dante's eyes widen, heard his breath rasp as Zero entered him fully. Their connection complete, the outside world and everything in it shrank and finally disappeared, leaving only the two of them in existence. Dante's legs shifted, wrapping around Zero's waist, urging him to move. He did, and found his

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new resolve to go slow shattering, unable to stand against the waves of pleasure that rocketed through him as he repeatedly pulled out and plunged himself in to the hilt. He felt the pressure of his release building far too soon and tried to still, to hold off, but Dante was having none of it. "Don't fucking stop! Gonna come," Dante hissed, pushing up against Zero, impaling himself on Zero's thick cock. Dante's hand was stroking his cock, his stomach muscles tightening visibly. As Zero watched, Dante came, crying out between clenched teeth, streaking his belly with white. Dante's orgasm went on forever, so powerful that it drew Zero's from him. He came with his head thrown back, every tendon, every muscle in his body howling with ecstasy, his blood pounding in his ears and his lips forming Dante's name as he filled Dante's body with his seed. Zero was unable to sit upright. He was so completely drained and sated that he slid out of Dante's body and collapsed on top of him, breathing hard, sweating and shivering at the same time.

They lay together for several moments, separated only by the stickiness of Dante's come, until

Zero finally rolled to one side. Unwilling to completely break their connection, he left an arm

and leg draped over Dante's body.

"You were right, you know," Dante said. His fingers traced random patterns through the hair on

Zero's chest. "I should have come to tell you about Polaris. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well, we all make mistakes."

Dante snorted. "Even you?"

"Even me. I should never have let you go. No more running, Dante. You're mine. My mate,"

Zero whispered, reinforcing his words with a kiss. Zero blinked as a thought hit him. He heaved

himself up onto his elbow, staring down at Dante. "I just realized what that means. You're my

mate, not my beta. That makes you co-leader of the Pack."

Dante chuckled. "Head bitch, huh?"

"I'm not kidding."

Dante fell silent for a moment, his eyes growing serious. "Are you cool with it?"

Zero smiled. "Guess we'll be locking horns again, huh?"

"Probably more often than not," Dante said. "Are you ready for that?"

"Yeah, but there's one thing I won't share. The Panhead -- she's mine."

Dante rolled his eyes. "Great. My mate has a forty-three-year-old mistress that needs more lube

than I do."

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"She does not! She purrs like a kitten. She's a lady!"

"Some lady. She farts smoke when you push her past thirty-five."

Zero laughed, rolling over on top of Dante again. "Life sure as Hell isn't going to be dull, is it?"

"Nope. Probably not."

"You know what?" Zero asked, leaning in for a kiss, "I don’t think I'd have it any other way."

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Author Bios Often referred to as "Space Cowboy" and "Gangsta of Love" while still striving for the moniker of "Maurice," Sean Michael spends his days surfing, smutting, organizing his immense gourd collection and fantasizing about one day retiring on a small secluded island peopled entirely by horseshoe crabs. While collecting vast amounts of vintage gay pulp novels and mood rings, Sean whiles away the hours between dropping the f-bomb and persuing the Kama Sutra by channeling the long-lost spirit of John Wayne and singing along with the soundtrack to "Chicago." Check out Sean’s webpage at http://www.seanmichaelwrites.com/ Cassidy Ryan lives and works in her beloved Glasgow in Scotland, and can think of no other place on the planet where she would rather be. Her hobbies include reading, the cinema, music, and watching football (soccer to those across the pond). She also loves British sit-coms from the 70s, and American cop shows – also from the 70s. She is horrendously superstitious. She won’t walk under ladders, put new shoes on the table, or utter the words ‘What’s the worst that could happen?’ and forget about the number 13! Kiernan Kelly lives in the wilds of the alligator-infested U.S. Southeast, slathered in SPF 45, drinking colorful tropical, hi-octane concoctions served by thong-clad cabana boys. All right, the truth is that she spends her time locked in the dark recesses of her office writing gay erotica while chained to a temperamental Macintosh, drinking coffee, and dreaming of thong-clad cabana boys. Sigh. http://kiernan-kelly.com/

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Taste Test: Spring Fling Zero's Fist © 2008 by Kiernan Kelly Something Better © 2008 by Sean Michael Suddenly, Finally © 2008 by Cassidy Ryan 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. For information address Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680. Printed in the United States of America. ISBN-13: 978-1-60370-307-9 ISBN-10: 1-60370-307-1 Torquere Press, Inc.: Toy Chest electronic edition / March 2008 Torquere Press eBooks are published by Torquere Press, Inc., PO Box 2545, Round Rock, TX 78680

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