Pat found his way to the bar, silently congratulating himself on scoring an empty seat.
“Bartender, hit me up with a beer, please,” he said, about to swivel in his seat and look around the bar.
“We seldom get many humans in here,” a grumpy voice muttered, and he returned his attention to the bar.
He widened his eyes as recognition hit him. The black-haired and green-eyed giant could only be Rick, Mac’s older brother. The O’Riley brothers had a few physical similarities, but Rick was a rougher version of his Mac.
A laugh slipped from his lips. Rick narrowed his eyes at him. “That was a warning human. You’re clearly not from around these parts, but humans who enter these doors are considered prey by any of the paranormals in here.”
He stiffened. “You don’t think I can handle myself? It’s not my first time in Red Mountains.”
“Clearly not. It’s been, what? Ten years, little Pat?” a voice drawled.
Pat jerked his head to the speaker, swallowed when Mac suddenly took the magically emptied stool next to him. He didn’t even see the shifter, but God, the years had been good to Mac. He had filled out his lean athletic form. The werebear still had the same mischievous blue eyes and wore his black hair short. Pat’s gaze moved lower. Mac was nearly as big as Rick, every inch of him filled with hard muscle.
Mac was all male now, and just when he thought he could easily get over his little crush, desire slammed into him, twice as hard. Could Pat never be free of Mac O’Riley? Did he even want that? Surely, part of him had known he’d bump into one of the O’Riley brothers when he entered the Honey Bear. He didn’t just meet one, but two of them.
“You know him?” Rick grumbled to Mac.
“In high school, but he left before the year was over,” Mac said, not looking at his brother. The werebear gave him a sweeping glance from top to bottom, leaving him blushing. Damn. Pat still had that effect on him. He shouldn’t be surprised. Mac said softly, “Little Pat’s all grown up now.”
“Then he’s your responsibility,” Rick muttered, setting two beers on the bar.
He quickly grabbed his, only to have Mac’s large callused hand over his.
“High school was a long time ago,” he said, wondering where he found the courage to speak.
“Clearly,” Mac said, those bright blue eyes dipping to the erection he sported. “Some things haven’t changed.”
“Let me go.”
Mac did. Pat touched the bottle to his lips and drank a huge gulp.
“Woah there, little human. Why don’t you slow down?”
“Screw you,” he mumbled. “I need this.”
Mac said nothing for a few moments as he gulped the entire bottle down. He panted. Wow. He’d never done that before. Sure, he drank himself to sleep on most nights, but an entire bottle in a few seconds?
“What brought you back to our little neck of the woods?” Mac asked, sipping his own beer.
He blinked a few times, just to make sure Mac hadn’t been a figment of his imagination. Nope, the werebear was still there, looking at him like he was a juicy piece of steak. Not that Pat didn’t want to climb that—no, no. Just a bit of alcohol and already, Pat loosened up. This wasn’t good.
On second thought, maybe he needed that extra liquid courage to face his childhood crush. Pat drank more of his beer.
“I’m on a holiday. Well, a break, really. I lost my job. Had a nervous breakdown.” He was really out of it, Pat decided, because he usually didn’t air out his dirty laundry to strangers. He might have known Mac back in high school, but the werebear was a stranger to him now.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Mac said.
“I’m not. Remember what you told me before? About sticking up for myself?”
Mac nodded, blue eyes less amused and more… intense. It was a little unnerving to have Mac’s entire focus on him. A drunk handsome young man stumbled in Mac’s direction.
“Mac, buy me a drink,” the guy slurred.
“Not tonight, Bobby,” Mac said in a firm iron voice Pat had never heard of before.
The drunk guy squinted at Pat. “You’re picking this human? He’s not even—”
Mac silenced the intruder with a snarl, flashing sharp fangs. The guy backed away. “He’s my human,” Mac said.
Time came to a halt. Did he really hear those words?
Mac’s proclamation brought a few stares from the other paranormals, then they went back to whatever they were going.
Pat sniffed. “I’m not your human, or your anything. If I remember correctly, during the last conversation we had, you stomped out.”
Mac flew off his seat, suddenly stood in front of him, making Pat aware of how huge the shifter was. Aggressive energy rolled off Mac in waves. Momentary fear crept down his spine, but he knew deep down Mac would never hurt him. Mac made him that promise ten years ago, except it was the boy who did, not the man.
“Be careful of your next words, little human.” Mac’s words were a warning.
Pat’s prick thickened in his jeans, and he turned away abruptly, but too late. Mac looked right at him, right at the bulge he sported in his jeans.
“There’s no need to hide from me, little human,” Mac said, flashing him a toothy smile.
“Bear-y well. Get it?” Shit. Pat tended to mumble nonsense whenever he got nervous. Mac only widened his smile. That look told Pat Mac saw right through him. Those blue eyes tinged with gold stripped him bare.
“You can tell me all the bear jokes you’ve been saving up later. We still have unfinished business.”
Mac eliminated the distance between them in a few steps. He halted the werebear by placing a hand on one broad shoulder. Mac paused, frowning, but before the werebear misinterpreted his actions, he rose on tiptoe, then brushed his lips over Mac’s.
Mac paused, clearly taken by surprise. Pat seldom took initiative, but this felt good and right. The explosive kiss told him he didn’t imagine the fire between them outside the bar. Teeth clashed and tongues tangled. Without another word, they pawed at each other’s clothes.
He shook off his shirt, groaning when Mac hooked fingers into his belt loops and yanked his pants and boxers down. Realizing he wore nothing but his shoes, he blushed hard. Pat harbored no illusion about his body. No matter what he did or how hard he tried to bulk up, he remained skinny. Even the men he’d dated in the past always tried to convince him to work out, pointing out his flaws.
Mac, though, looked at him like he was the most desirable man in the world—not shy and awkward Pat. Mac made him feel…more. That hungry stare made his dick hard. Mac let out a growl, doing away with his clothes in a hurry.
It was his turn to gawk. Mac looked like a Greek god in human skin. Every inch of Mac seemed carved out of muscle.
“Do you like working out?” he blurted.
Strike two. Pat was really off his game, but the werebear didn’t seem to care. Mac gripped the back of his neck, thrust his tongue down his throat, and gave his dick a few squeezes and tugs. He groaned, savoring the touch of skin-on-skin, his slender body clashing with Mac’s hard one. Mac placed a possessive hand on his buttocks, gave them a squeeze.
He nearly came then, simply from Mac’s touch. The werebear touched him like he owned Pat, and he liked that, loved how confident Mac was. Mac pushed him to the floor, so his back hit the soft rug there.
The fur felt incredibly soft, decadent even. Mac left a trail of kisses from his lips, neck, upper body. He shuddered when Mac took a nipple to his mouth, left his bite mark there, before leaving more nips down his body. He squirmed, but Mac gripped his hip, preventing escape—not that he wanted that.
Mac reached his dick and his eyes widened when the werebear flicked his tongue out, swiping the pre-cum gathered there. A moan tore out of him as he threaded fingers into Mac’s hair. Even like this, it was clear who ran the show. Mac licked and sucked at his prick with obvious relish, all the while keeping those intense, wild yellow eyes on him. It was as if Mac savored every sound he managed to wrangle out of Pat’s lips.
He gasped when Mac took his dick fully into his mouth. It was a hell of a sight, seeing the big werebear go down on him. Never did Pat imagine that his fantasies could turn into a reality. Mac bobbed his head a few times. The pressure inside him built. Just when he thought he’d finally explode, Mac pulled away.
The werebear seemed amused by his frustrated groan.
Without warning, Mac flipped him on his hands and knees. Need surged through every inch of his body. His balls felt heavy, his dick engorged. Shame flew out the window as he pushed his ass at Mac in offering. Mac’s large hand came down on his ass cheeks. He jumped as pain jolted through his entire body.
No, it wasn’t painful at all. If possible, he became even more aroused. Hearing the lube being uncapped, he swiveled his head over his shoulder. Mac applied the slick liquid over his fingers, before working plenty into his hold. He groaned, feeling Mac’s fingers inside his most intimate place.
“Condom?” Mac asked.
He shook his head, cleared his throat, although he was still blushing. They were really doing this, finally making one of his long-time fantasies come true. “I’m clean,” he managed to say. “And I know shifters don’t catch anything.”
“Good?” he repeated.
“Because I want my cum in your ass. You’re mine, Patrick Lane. Mine to mark and claim.”
He shuddered at the confidence in Mac’s words, didn’t bother correcting his bear. Mac told the truth, hadn’t he? There might be a reason why most of Pat’s pathetic dates failed. He’d measured all those men against Mac. They never stood a chance, because he’d already given Mac his heart ten years ago.
The realization made his heart beat erratically, his breathing hitched. Mac pulled his fingers out, and he spread his legs a little wider, groaning when Mac gripped his hips then pushed in. He gasped at Mac’s entrance. So huge, he thought, breathing in and out.
Once Mac passed the thick, stubborn ring of muscles, it became easier. Finally, Mac bottomed out inside of him, heavy balls pressed up against his ass. It burned a little, but Pat knew Mac would make it glorious for him soon enough.
“Good job, baby,” Mac said, blanketing his body over his for a moment to steal a kiss from his lips. “My turn to make you fly. I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to forget me.”