Mad Dog

by Akirako (明楽)


Simon left for his week long trip and it took Tiber at least three days before it dawned on him. Something felt wrong. Simon’s scent was fading from the town, and it maddened him.

He tried to go into Simon’s store – bad idea. Gabe’s smell was everywhere over Simon’s, until Tiber wanted to rip Gabe apart. All the pup had done was accept to mind the bookstore while its owner was gone, not try to mark over Simon. Tiber forced himself to leave and when he did, Gabe all but peed himself in relief.

It took him another day to admit the evidence: he was in love with Simon. His mood was so foul, the pack avoided him like he’d already turned into a mad monster and maybe they were right. Both his father and his grandfather had been maddened beasts, like Tiber was, and their condition had worsened exponentially after they fell in love. Like Tiber did.

On the day Simon came back, Tiber woke a bundle of nerves. By the time he parked his truck by Simon’s shop-slash-house at closing time, the nerves and excitation had become rabid. Goddamn Simon. As much as Tiber couldn’t wait to see him, he was also irrationally angry at him, for having gone, for being there, for being the kind of man Tiber could fall in love with.

Pausing as he was about to slam his car door, he looked at his reflexion. At the end, his father’s face had been like granite, with harsh lines carved on by his lust for violence. At thirty-eight, Tiber was the same age his father was when he died, but he couldn’t yet perceive on himself the signs left by mad rages. He merely looked like a bad-tempered brute, too tall, too big, with frosty blue eyes and a punk hairdo thanks to the way only the top layer of his dark brown hair was turning white. Of course, he had over his father the advantage of not being entangled in a soured relationship. He also did not carry the burden of a son just like him.

With a snort, he closed the door – smoother than he’d first intended – and strode through the snow. He’d forgotten his coat but he was oblivious to the cold. Outside temperature never affected him anyway, unless it was hot. Then, he just was damn uncomfortable. Not that it ever became hot in these latitudes, where winter lasted over eight months, with spring, summer and autumn all bundled up in a lousy season the remaining weeks of the year.

The bookstore door opened just as he reached it. Gabe came out with a package under the arm. The young werewolf was whistling but as soon as his nose caught the wind, his head snapped Tiber’s way and the whistling stopped.

Gabe had the superior position, he was on the step while Tiber was standing on the street, but still the older wolf towered over him. And when he took in the bristling and the yellow glow in his eyes… Carefully, Gabe nodded. “Ti-Tiber. I was just leaving…”

“Gabe.” Tiber nodded back. “Don’t let me keep you.”

The young wolf abandoned any semblance of small talk and literally jumped away from the door.

Tiber grunted and let his feet fall heavy on the landing. Once inside, he took a deep breath and found the scent of Simon, fresh and immediate. Following it, he looked left just as the man glided out of the shadows.

Simon’s head was small and delicate, with graying black hair cut short except at his forehead, where a bit of length was left to hide the misshapen scar pulling up his left eyebrow. He was not quite six feet, but he was so lean and narrowly done, he appeared taller. Tiber only had two inches on him, but was almost twice as wide.

“Tiber, you’re here.” Simon hurried to him, but the closer he came the slower he got until he finally stopped, an arm’s length away. He cocked his head, looking thoughtfully at his lover. “Gabe told me you came by on Wednesday. What did you do to him? He could barely get your name out.”

Tiber flexed his fingers. He did not want to talk about Gabe. In fact, he wasn’t sure what he wanted; to embrace Simon or have him stay away? He tried to say something, but a low growl came out instead.

“I was wondering if you missed me as much as I missed you.” Simon’s voice had gone all soft and silken. “You did, didn’t you? I see you did. Kneel.”

The last word came out low and calm, seeped with the absolute conviction it would be obeyed. Tiber’s whole body went th-thump as his rage banked. He went down on his knees, keeping his gaze up. Only his eyes, jet black and gleaming with intensity, gave warning of Simon’s own brand of danger. You had to go through the glasses lenses to see it and there were a whole lot of people who never saw more of Simon than a mild-mannered man of mature years. Tiber himself had overlooked him for most of a year. Sure, Tiber was not the kind of guy who saw stuff. But now that he knew, now that he saw, it boggled him how easily people dismissed Simon.

Of course, Simon did all he could to be dismissed, something he was darn good at. If Tiber hadn’t attacked him that night three months ago, he probably would still think the bookseller a quiet, boring man.

For Tiber, said night had been the pinnacle of a shitty day – of a shitty week – where everything and everyone did their utmost to be idiots before handing him their mess. His truck had broken down three times in five days and Carl the car mechanic could only scratch his head. Tina had stolen a packmate’s boyfriend, again, and he had to deal with the drama because Tina was the alpha female and he was the only one who cowed her. He’d managed, barely, to keep it in and not tear (literally) into anyone, but meditation could only take him so far. He’d retreated to his atelier to decompress but when the wood sculpture he’d been working on had cleanly split where it wasn’t supposed to, he’d lost his grip on his rage.

He’d disintegrated the thing into tiny wood shavings and had begun to rip apart his atelier when Yolande had come in. To this day, he did not know why she’d come. All he remembered was the red haze and the pleasure he’d had stalking her. The scent of her fear, the expectation of bloody flesh had been intoxicating… and it was his father all over again. That thought had him spring away from Yolande, instead of at her, and he’d fled to the woods.

The next hours were dim in his memory, mostly snarling flashes of hunting down prey. On that night, the red haze had not thinned with exertion, it had worsened. When he’d smelled a human, he’d gone after it. The human had been Simon.

He had not made any effort to be quiet. He’d been so crazed by then, he had begun the change, in the uncontrolled way that always gave these half-assed results. When Simon had seen him, he had not screamed, frozen or run like Tiber would have expected a human to react. Not that he’d had any expectation, the state he was in, but Tiber hoped that lack of reaction would have given him pause, if he’d had a clear mind.

Simon had dodged his attack and socked him a strong one in the neck. Damn, the man had been fast. Next thing he knew, Tiber had had a knife buried in his shoulder and Simon on his back.

He’d been in a rage to dislodge the human. Simon had grabbed his ruffle tight, forced Tiber’s head back and rode the feral buckles, slicing Tiber’s arms every time the he made a grab at him. When Tiber had tried to fall on his back, somehow Simon had always ended up with both feet on the ground before Tiber could crush him. He always flipped Tiber over so that it was him who smashed his snout to the ground, while Simon the goddamn limpet stayed stuck on his back.

When the red haze had given up, Tiber had been kneeling on the ground, panting, bloody and aroused. And after his ears had stopped ringing, he’d realized the other man was crooning to him.

“Shh, shh, down, down, I’ve got you,” Simon had been saying, his hand rubbing his flanks, his torso, his belly. Tiber had stilled, breath held, and hoped for more. It had come.

Smoothly, Simon had snuck his hand inside Tiber’s pants and put it on his hard cock. There had been no flaflas. Simon had palmed him and stroked hard and fast, moving rough over the ridge marking his glans. Tiber had clawed the earth and came furiously.

Once he was spent, Simon had wiped his hand and buttoned Tiber’s jeans before standing up to take his knife out of Tiber’s shoulder.

“Werewolves,” was all he’d said, in his soft voice. Tiber had had noticed Simon’s voice before, how all smooth it was, always calm and appeasing. On that night, it’d taken on a new quality, one that made Tiber’s wolf sit up and take notice.

Tiber had stood on shaky legs. Exhaustion had been settling in by then, but he hadn’t wanted the encounter to end. “Yeah,” he’d grunted, the word barely human. He’d cleared his throat and tried again: “We’ve a long trek home. If you have questions I’ll answer them. If I can.”

Simon had smiled and said “Sure” but he hadn’t asked any – at least, none about werewolves. He’d asked about Tiber, his work, his hobbies. Tiber… wasn’t a social animal. He’d tried but couldn’t shove miracles out of his ass. On the last leg of the night, the conversation had sputtered and they’d become silent.

Tiber had slowed down, reluctant to arrive, but he hadn’t needed worry. When they’d reached outskirts of town Simon had said, “Be at my place Friday night at ten,” before starting down the street in his tranquil way, without waiting for an answer. They both knew Tiber would be there.

And today, here he was, watching Simon unbuckle his belt and draw down his zipper. Come to think of it, that Friday night had begun much the same way. Simon had been as hard as he was now; and just like then, his musk had made Tiber salivate. His own cock was rubbing uncomfortably in his pants, but he did not move until Simon had his cock out.

It was like the rest of the man, tall and gracile but harder than tempered wood. It was circumcised and the head rose blatant and dark pink. Tiber came closer.

“Suck me.” Simon’s voice still was filled with calm certainty. “Make me come with your mouth and when I do, swallow.”

“Can I touch?” Tiber’s lips rubbed against precome and he licked his lips. Swallow? Hell yeah he was going to swallow.

“You can touch me. Not yourself,” Simon ordered, pressing his cockhead against Tiber’s lips. Tiber licked right under it, caressing with his tongue the familiar ridges and veins of Simon’s cock, reacquainting himself. He hadn’t realized he knew its shape so well.

Only when it was all wet from his attention did Tiber take the cock inside his mouth, pushing all the way to his throat, then drew back again. On the next push in, Tiber curved his tongue along the cock’s shape and rubbed Simon’s taste on his tongue.

The silence around them was thick, broken only by the earthy sounds of fellatio and Simon’s harsh breath. Carefully, Tiber pushed down the black briefs and slid a hand in to weight Simon’s sac, massaging while his head moved up and down.

“God yeah.” Simon threaded his fingers through Tiber’s hair and thrust his hips. “Suck me harder.”

Tiber started to move faster. He was becoming too excited, he could feel his cock leaking pre-cum against his boxers. He brought his free hand to his jeans’ fastening, all for finishing himself off, but Simon tightened his fingers, jerking Tiber’s head back, and stuffed his cock deep in Tiber’s mouth.

“I said, no touching yourself.”

Despite the cock down his throat, Tiber growled, low and mean, but nevertheless took his hand away from his crotch. He shoved it down Simon’s pants instead, grabbing an ass cheek and kneading it roughly as he took up his rhythm again. He focused on Simon’s shape and smell instead and soon, his frustration muted into a desire to please. When the orgasm came, he did indeed swallow. A lot.

After the last twitch of pleasure, Simon unclenched his hands and smoothed the ruffled hair. Tiber reluctantly let him slip away.

“What a nice homecoming. Thanks.” Simon said. He zipped up his pants and completely ignored Tiber’s erection. “Come, I’ve prepared a meal.”

Tiber stayed put, hands clenched on his knees, hoping Simon would feel mellow and lift the touching interdiction… but Simon stayed silent and patiently waited for him. At length, Tiber stood up and took exaggerated care in replacing everything in his pants, before following. In the kitchen upstairs, Simon immediately went to check on the oven where, judging by the smell, beef was roasting.

One of his appetites was going to be satisfied at least, Tiber thought as he took his place at the table.

“The meat is almost overdone. Good thing you made me come quickly or dinner would’ve been ruined.”

Tiber refrained from a comment along the lines of Fuck dinner and have me come and studiously ignored Simon as he took place at the table. Despite the deadpan expression, he just knew the man was smirking inside.

The meal was good. Tiber cleaned his plate in record time. He had doubts when he saw the cheese stuffed here and there in the meat, but it was okay. He was less pleased when he dug in what he thought was a potato slices and it turned out to be apples – crousti-fondant de pommes, Simon called it. As for the ducky fat paste on bread, it melted on his tongue and tasted so good, he contemplated licking his plate for the last dregs.

“So you’re partial to foie gras?” Simon murmured, and Tiber knew he could expect to be served foie gras at Simon’s again.

He was done way before Simon was of course, and sat mentally gnawing his bone and outwardly nursing his wine. He could feel his restlessness rise.

“How was your trip?” He already knew all about Simon’s trip to catalogue an estate down in New York, but he needed distraction.

“I made a stop to see my brother on the way back. He said to bring you next time.”

Wait, what? “You have a brother?” Tiber blurted.

“Well, not officially. He’s on to his third identity now and we don’t want him to be found again, so we’re keeping our meetings low key.”

Say again? “Found by who?”

“Whom,” Simon murmured.

Tiber glared. “Stop the fucking dick routine. Who are they and would they come after you too?”

“I’m of no interest to them.” Simon took a bite of the apple-foundling-whatever stuff. “Our dad was a drug lord. I was the bastard kicked out of the house when he died, my younger brother was the heir and his mom kept his place warm until he grew. When she died and he ran, it was with a lot of money some parties wanted to keep for themselves.” His eyes turned opaque behind his glasses. “They came after him, and I took care of them.”

Tiber just stared at him. As the silence lengthened, a faint frown came over Simon’s face. “You knew I was in the military. Surely by now you’ve figured out I wasn’t just military?”

Honestly? No. He just took Simon and his capabilities as they were. To be able to cower Tiber’s beast, Simon had to have in him something akin to it, but the details didn’t matter to Tiber. If Simon wanted to share he’d listen but if not, no skin off his back.

One thing bothered him though. “Did you change your name?”

Simon blinked. Then a corner of his mouth went up. “I’ve been Simon longer than I was anyone else. Don’t worry, you’re calling out the right name.”

“Okay.” Tiber took a swallow of wine and eyed Simon’s plate. He wouldn’t be done eating soon. “So, how’s your brother doing?”

“He met a new lady friend. He’s dithering about presenting her to his kids. He’s been divorced twice already.” Simon took another bite. “He has trust issues. I think he never told any of them about his past.”

“The past you just told me?” Tiber asked.

Simon raised his unscarred eyebrow. With the scar already pulling the other one up, it gave him a surprised air rather than a wry one. “I never said I had trust issues. Your secret is worse than his anyway.”

“Did you tell him about me?” There was no anxiety behind the question, only curiosity. What did Simon have to say about him?

Simon’s eyes gleamed. “Yes.”

They talked as Simon finished eating, and Tiber could focus on something other than his aching cock. Simon being done did not mean Tiber’s wait for release was over however, because the dratted man settled to wash the dishes instead of moving on to bedroom activities.

To be fair, this was their routine, usually with Tiber doing the dishes. He could have gone and do something else but he chose to stay and watch Simon’s efficient ways. The man moved beautifully, his flow of contractions and releases so smooth, and he watched, until the wolf could sense the move coming next.

He was in love with Simon. Tiber had admitted it but hadn’t accepted it, not ’til now. He carefully probed the thought, testing its contours. He loved Simon. He waited for the rise of rage, for haze to smog his vision, but nothing came except contentment.

For the first time, he dared consider a new possibility. Maybe he wouldn’t turn into his father or his grandfather. Maybe their problems wasn’t falling in love, but falling in love with the wrong person. He hadn’t known his grandmother – killed by her husband before he was born – but from the furthest he could remember, his mother had feared, then been terrified by, his father. After she left, after she fled he often thought of it, she’d kept in contact with Tiber, until he realized he terrified her too. He’d reduced their contacts to a couple phone calls a year, and her relief at this arrangement came through loud and clear.

He knew Simon loved him, even if he never said. He tried to imagine his life if instead of corralling him, Simon feared him. How would he feel if Simon cringed every time he came near? If the smell of his fear saturated every crevice of their home, chasing him out to the woods and to the rage?

“Tiber!” A black-and-white Simon stood next to his chair, his hands heavy on Tiber’s own – no, on Tiber’s paws. His nails had become talons and gouged the table.

Tiber almost let the beast out, but Simon’s will beat against him, pressing it down. Slowly, color leeched back into the world. Tiber realized his canines were out and he was snarling. He immediately stopped and took long breaths, pausing after each inhalation.

“It’s okay. I’m okay,” he said once he trusted his vocal chords.

“I know,” Simon answered. His mien was as smooth as ever, as if having a snarling monster in the kitchen was no big deal. He even went back to the damn dishes, as if nothing had happened.

Tiber kept breathing. He was okay, he tried to convince himself, then snorted. He was okay, sure – as long as Simon was next to him. If he ever left, or died… The world hushed as Tiber contemplated the possibility.

He would not become the ulcers his forebears had been. He refused to. When the end came, he would not go on. He’d end, too. And since he would never have kids, the whole cursed line would end with him. Period.

For the first time since puberty, Tiber felt – was that peace? So this is what he was supposed to feel when he meditated? A soft calm, like polished wood?

If it was peace, it did not last long. Simon soon snapped the washing rag then folded it. “I’m done.” He turned to Tiber, his face placid, with the merest hint of a smile on his mouth. “Still hard? Wanna fuck?” Poof. Just like that, peace gone.

Tiber slowly rose to his feet. “Har, har, funny guy. I’ve been hard for the last hour and you know it.” He went to Simon, each step slow and deliberate, only stopping once he’d crowded the smaller man into the cabinets and could go no further. He ground his erection into Simon. “Yeah, I’m ready to fuck if you’re ready to stop fucking around.”

With a chuckle, Simon turned him around with a push in the direction of the bedroom. Once there, Tiber sat on the bed. It was a gigantic affair of solid chestnut wood, with a density of 31 kg by cubic foot. The previous bed had had a metal frame, with creaky springs. The sounds their sex tore out of it… Tiber had wrecked it, ripped the head half off and bended the base. He’d brought this new bed the next day. This one would resist Tiber for a while.

Simon came to stand between his legs. Tiber immediately grabbed the man’s shirt and tossed it over his head. It was when you took off Simon’s clothes you saw how truly strong he was, his narrow frame not thin but slim, and tightly roped with lean, well-defined muscles. When Tiber touched them, they felt hard and powerful under his hands.

He slid a hand up Simon’s neck and brought his head down for a kiss, the kind of kiss he’d waited the whole evening for, open mouthed, languorous, full of tongue and nips of teeth. Their mouth was wet and their breathing ragged when Simon finally moved back. “Stand,” he said, “and take off your clothes.”

Tiber stood in front of the bed. His shirt was halfway off already and he threw it away. Next were his pants along with his boxers and his socks. Naked in three seconds flat, a new record.

He stood, restive under Simon’s gaze, who took his own sweet time to look him up and down. “You’re so big and powerful. And your cock, it’s massive… Sometimes I wonder how it’d feel inside of me. I wonder if I’d be able to take you all in.”

Tiber froze. Images cascaded through his head, rousing mixed feelings in his breast.

“Don’t make that face,” Simon chuckled. “It won’t be happening anytime soon.” Tiber let out a breath, not entirely reassured. “Now raise your cock. Show me your balls.”

Careful not to hide his penis, Tiber raised it using his fingertips only, and weighed his balls in his open hand. His head thundered, and he could see his cock shuddering in time with his heartbeat. He had to tone it down or he wouldn’t last the time it took for Simon to finish his peeper fun.

“Please squeeze your cock. Harder. Yeah, like that. Your cockhead is turning wine red. You want more?”

“Yes,” Tiber ground out. It hurt, but in a way that prickled to the sole of his feet and burned his ears. Pain like this was better than a run in the forest under a new moon.

“Come to bed and grab the headboard.”

At last. Tiber moved to the bed and laid on his back, gripping the headboard as if his life depended on it. His legs fell open by themselves, opening a space for Simon to slide in. The other man was naked when he took his place between Tiber’s legs and he carried a bottle and condoms. The condoms he put under the pillow; raising the bottle high, he squirted K-Y on Tiber.

It landed on his balls then oozed downwards, coating the crack between his ass cheeks. Simon dipped his fingers in it and pushed them inside Tiber’s ass.

Tiber groaned. He had finger fucked himself a lot this past week, yet the pleasure hadn’t been that keen. What made Simon’s fingers so potent? Tiber had mimicked the moves but the top of his head had not blow off. Yet here Simon only had to think at Tiber’s sphincter and he was ready to explode. Goddamn addictive bastard. He couldn’t even come satisfactorily without Simon’s touch anymore.

Luckily, tonight Simon did not dick around. After minimal preparation, he took his hand from Tiber’s ass, sheathed himself with the condom and then it was his cock that penetrated, tight and hard. They both moaned from the sensation. Simon settled into a seamless cadence that went deep and resonated through his partner, all the way to his back teeth. Tiber started to growl, the sound hiccupping deep in his throat every time Simon pushed in.

The wildness rose in him and he clenched his hands harder on the headboard, keeping a pacing rein on it. The rein slipped a bit when Simon grabbed his cock and bit his nipple. Pleasure rose, ineluctable, and Tiber came, splashing all over himself and Simon.

The man kept himself immobile during Tiber’s orgasm, but as soon as it was done, he turned him on his right side and straddled his thigh. Simon wasn’t done. Neither was Tiber for that matter. He was still hard and shivering.

Simon slid back in like a well-oiled cog. Clamping a steel hand on Tiber’s left thigh, he forced the leg up and held it there.

“Hold on tight, I’ll be fucking you hard,” he murmured then started to pound into Tiber, his hips moving in a powerful pumping that rippled up the muscles of his abdomen and send shockwaves along Tiber’s nerves.

Simon moaned in time with his thrusts. Tiber wanted to howl along with him, but his tongue was too thick for his mouth, he could not make any sound. It was happening. He was changing. He curved his hands into balls, trying to hold it in, only to discover his nails had sharpened into claws as they bit into his skin.

His skin itched and sparked in a widening chain-reaction. The pounding in his ass enhanced the heady joy of the change and Tiber lost himself into it, his cock rising full and he was hot, fuck, so good, so hot to come–

“Who said you could change?” Simon abruptly stopped moving, his cock almost out of Tiber.

God damn it! Why couldn’t the human keep fucking him already! He snarled and without thinking, swiveled and snapped, his sharp teeth missing Simon by an inch as the man moved out of the way.

Before he mustered another attack, Simon pushed Tiber’s head back on the pillow and held it there. “Ripping my arm off won’t get you what you want.” He barely moved his cock in and out, the lack of depth torturing. “What’s it gonna be?”

True, true, that was true, he’d forgotten himself for a moment. Gazing into Simon’s dark gaze, his rage quieted and excitement flared up again, hotter than before. “Go on,” he rasped.

The bed creaked in its discreet wooden way when Simon picked up where he’d left off and Tiber held on tight. Their sweat covered bodies slapped together and again, the impulse to change prickled and sparkled. Control became excruciating.

He managed to hold on to it, to wait for the quiet “Go” whispered in his ear, just before Simon shifted to the right, hitting his prostate full on. Tiber howled, throwing his head back, and his arms clamped around Simon while he came, hard. There was almost no cum – his balls were all empty from his earlier orgasm – but his cock shook and his body heaved, endlessly it seemed.

When he came to, he was exhausted. Simon was still hard and moving but his moves weren’t so smooth any more. They had the choppiness of approaching climax.

That he wanted to see. Tiber forced his eyes open, and for once Simon wasn’t looking back. The man’s eyes were closed behind his glasses, and his mouth was open. It was a rare thing to have Simon lost in pleasure while he himself wasn’t and Tiber wanted to see it. He took off the glasses, as delicately as he could while being shoved back and forth on the bed.

He watched as Simon moved on top of him, more and more frantic, noticed when the man drew on himself, then jerked. Because of the condom he could not feel the splash of cum. Next time, he thought sleepily, I’ll ask him to go bare. Then he gave in to exhaustion and fell asleep, cradling Simon’s slumped body against his.


He woke alone and cleaned of jizz. The lights were still on. He threw a glance at the clock, saw he’d slept about twenty minutes.

Simon was in the living room, talking on the phone. He was talking quietly but, hey, werewolf ears here. Tiber heard perfectly well.

“…call him mad dog. Or I won’t let you meet him.” A silence, then a low laugh. “Yeah, sure. You too man. See you soon.”

“Who was that?” Tiber called. Normally he wouldn’t bother but there had been affection in Simon’s voice. His lover cared about the person at the other end of the line, and Tiber wanted to know more about it.

Simon appeared in the doorway, chest bare, wearing plaid pajama bottom. Tiber enjoyed the view as he beckoned him back to bed.

“That was Luiz. We were partners for fifteen years,” Simon said, coming to lie atop him.

“Partner?” Tiber grunted. Am I the mad dog? he thought to ask, then realized he didn’t care.

“Work partner. He wants to come over for Christmas, with his family. I’m godfather to his eldest.”

“Jesus Christ. Halloween’s barely over, can’t we wait before taking on another holiday?” Simon had four claw marks on his left side. Tiber picked him up and positioned him to his satisfaction, the wounds close to his mouth. He began to lick them.

“Sure. But since he’s not undercover, he has to petition your alpha to come into the pack’s territory. From what he tells me, these things can take a while depending on the alpha.”

Tiber froze as the impact of the words hit him. He slowly moved Simon around until they were face to face. “Your best friend is were?”

Simon nodded.

“What kind?”

“Puma. Originally from Nicaragua but he lives in New Mexico now.”

Something clicked in Tiber’s memory. “Luiz Mendoza. You’re friend with Luiz Mendoza?” The were community was large and by no mean did Tiber know every member, but Luiz Mendoza was a name he’d heard whispered when he’d searched around for a solution to the problem of who should take him on when the madness overtook him.

He thought of the way Simon moved, then tried to imagine how it would look if Simon was were. Yup, definitely a guy Tiber didn’t want to tangle with. And he was Simon’s best friend. A strong were close enough to monitor Tiber should there be need. Perfect.

He nodded. “Okay. I’ll talk to George. He’ll give permission, no hassle.”

There, problem solved. He tried to tug Simon down for a kiss, but Simon resisted. “That’s it? You’re not going to ask anything? About my past?”

Tiber frowned. “Why should I? If there’s something I need to know, it’ll come up.” He patted the other man where his claw marks used to be. “C’mon now, kiss me.”

“Fine then,” Simon huffed, before giving Tiber what he was asking for.


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One thought on “Mad Dog

  1. Love the power dynamics between these two. They complement each other in so many wonderful ways. Perfect together. I would love to read an entire book about them. Fantastic!!

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