The pulsing walls of his private room at Slash made Jameson Tate’s skin sizzle. The see-through wall with a view down to the dance floor muffled a portion of the sound, but he knew very well what was on the other side. He had smelled it and heard it and seen it ever since he started at Slash way before he bought it from the previous owner. It was a smell of raw lust. The gyrating bodies, the dark shadows moving precariously in the corners, and of course the bitter essence of ecstasy thrown in as well.
Despite being a beta wolf, Jameson loved his club. Every spare second he had away from his pack was spent here. Providing a place for the gay shifter population in the city was his baby. A few humans, subtly referred to as non-shifters, thrown in were quite the entertainment as well. Anyone was admitted to Slash as long as they scanned their ID at the door and paid their cover. What happened after that was none of Jameson’s business as long as it was consensual and nothing was broken.
Although I’m sure a few hearts may have shattered within these walls. Jameson couldn’t help but smirk, something he didn’t allow himself to do often. He was the resident badass. People didn’t see him as anything else. Not at the club and definitely not within the pack. Homicidal ass kicker. That seemed to be the description most gave of him. His main job as beta was to back up his alpha. And seeing as the White Valley pack was a barely held together mess at the moment, he couldn’t really afford for anyone to see him as anything but lethal.
Too many generations of bad leadership had led the pack to be scared and defiant. The scared ones were afraid of Jameson’s alpha, Harley, after years of mistreatment. The defiant ones were those that had been doing the dirty work of the previous alphas and didn’t want to conform to a new regime. It was fucked up, and it seemed that Jameson had the bulk of the responsibility in fixing it. Harley was a primal presence as alpha. He secretly didn’t want it though. However, Jameson was the only one privy to that secret.
“Hey, Boss?” His manager, Craven, knocked as he entered.
“You going down tonight?” Jameson didn’t often indulge in the candy downstairs, too much drama. The twinks that weren’t afraid to accept his advances were too needy and looking for a keeper. Unfortunately they also were not Jameson’s type at all. Being six foot six and almost three hundred pounds of muscle deterred the larger, athletic pickings of the club that were more Jameson’s style. Call him crazy, but he kinda liked to grip hard and ride his lover and not be afraid to break the skinny little boys that thought they could handle his rough rides.
“Not unless something interesting walks through the door.” Jameson sighed and lifted the glass of scotch he had been nursing. This didn’t get watered down, iced, or gulped. This particular label the drinker savored and held it in his or her mouth to enjoy all the beautiful notes from its age. Scotch was Jameson’s guilty pleasure, same as wanting to find his mate.
Bad asses didn’t have sappy mate searching desires. Or they just weren’t allowed to talk about it.
Craven had slipped out after his response, and Jameson returned to studying the crowd. Some regulars floated within the mix. His staff, plain clothes and enjoying themselves, migrated to make sure no funny business happened within. He also had uniformed servers, bouncers, and bartenders. But the plain clothes, they made sure that everything inside the club remained safe. No drugs, no nonconsensual stuff. They migrated and flirted and talked. They didn’t partake of the liquid or physical pleasure which was nonnegotiable for the position for their own safety.
The curve of a defined bicep and bright smile caught his attention. Hmm. Jameson set his glass down gently and leaned forward with interest. The hand upon the bicep belonged to one of the resident sluts, Xavier, but the body he was pressed up against was what had Jameson’s eye. Six feet of toned muscle encased in dark denim and a T-shirt that probably should have been bursting at the arms. Just the right size to hang on to and mark decently along the ride. The way those hands were hanging onto Xavier’s ass was not necessarily a pleasure to see for Jameson, and his wolf was standing up and taking notice as well.
Standing and intending to have a more up-close-and-personal perusal of this new specimen, Jameson took a gentle sip of his scotch before making his way down the dark stairwell to the main floor.
A tsking sound escaped the object of Beau’s desire. “Such a beautiful body for such a naughty pup.” The words flowed like silk over Beau’s skin, and that delightful shivering returned. “You didn’t come to the club like I said to.” Jameson continued to stare at Beau like his next meal.
“Go lay on the bed, Pup. We got disturbed last time, and we need to finish what we started.” The gentle order had loads of promises within, and Beau rushed to the bed. He lay on his back and reached to grip his cock. He was so excited to feel the power promised by Jameson’s words and very presence.
Jameson stripped quickly out of his clothes and approached the young pup, his mate, and smiled. He wasn’t going to mate Beau yet. Thankfully, not having reached his full maturity gave some benefits. The desire to bite and mate wasn’t a desperate, gut-wrenching need. Plus, there was the whole needing-to-explain-they-were-mates conversation that needed to happen first, too. Sex without the pressure of mating was something that Jameson could fully get behind. Or on top of, or ridden, but first, the roads of flesh laid out for him to feast on would be dealt with. Starting with Beau’s chest, Jameson placed one knee on the bed and leaned down to lick a line of Beau’s skin. The intense scotch-like flavor rolled over his tongue.
With one hand, he held Beau down and reached the other to fondle the sac resting loosely below the hard cock while Jameson sucked one of Beau’s nipples into his mouth and bit down gently. A groan escaped Beau’s mouth and his body arched off the bed. A hand reached behind Jameson’s neck, holding him down to the nipple he tortured. He licked the sweet flesh and nibbled it, making it pebble and turn a rosy red. Jameson fondled the soft sac simultaneously. He lifted and kneaded, testing the sensitivity of Beau’s skin. He paid the other nipple the same attention, enjoying the moans and small pleading noises that coincided with the now two hands holding onto Jameson’s head and bicep.
Switching directions, Jameson moved toward the cock he had not gotten to give its due the other night at the club. A murmured “oh yeah” was heard as Jameson gripped the shaft with one hand while slowly inching his other past the heavy sac and down to the hidden star below. Jameson surrounded the velvety steel with his hand, and he leaned down to lick at the tip. A sweet, clear essence smoothed down his tongue, and Jameson groaned in unison with Beau.
He found that star with his finger and gently teased the wrinkled skin. Beau was tight but responsive. The feel of the hard cock in his mouth was heaven. His mate was perfect for him, and Jameson knew the next few moments would get even better.
Popping off of Beau’s tip and taking a lingering lick from the crown, he looked up at his beautiful creature. Chin tilted toward the ceiling, fingers gripping fabric beneath, Beau was beautiful in passion. “Lube, Pup?”
Beau silently prayed that Trevor was normal and kept lube in the nightstand. Thank you! He cheered inside when he reached from the drawer triumphant. He held it toward Jameson, who tapped at his entrance at the same time. A gasp and growl filled the air.
“You gonna tell me?” Jameson asked.
How does he know!? “Tell you what?” Beau asked. Even to his own ears he sounded guilty.
A flick to his buttock had him emitting a tiny yelp.
“Pup? Get yourself good and ready for me. If this is your first time bottoming, like I think it is, you need to be good and loose. And I really don’t have the patience to do it.”
Jameson lay down and watched as Beau squirted some of the lube onto his fingers and hooked a leg behind his knee with his other arm. Hmm, practiced. No hesitation. Somebody is curious.
Changing his mind, Jameson moved to Beau’s feet and watched as those long fingers entered the tight ass. First one, slowly in and stroking gently.
“Another,” Jameson said. He reached out and softly stroked the underside of Beau’s cock as he watched the man introduce a second finger and pump softly. Those two fingers scissored and twisted as they pumped. “Oh, you naughty boy. Have you been denying yourself something you wanted?”
A third finger was placed with the other pair, and Jameson reached to grab the abandoned tube of lube. He applied some to his aching cock as he enjoyed the joy of Beau’s stretching. He stroked his shaft and watched the glaze of Beau’s eyes as he took notice of Jameson’s ministrations. Jameson saw the longing in Beau’s eyes, the panting of his breath, and knew that Beau had never had another inside him. That alone almost made him shoot his load.
Moving to his knees, he knocked Beau’s hand away and grabbed the man by the thighs and yanked him closer. “Tell me,” Jameson said while reaching down and testing the stretched flesh now glistening in the light of the room.
“Fuck me,” Beau breathed out in a pleading tone.
Jameson lined up his cock so that the head kissed the slick hole. “No, tell me.”
“Please, Jameson.” Beau tried to edge closer to Jameson’s cock and get it to press inside.
A swat to the thigh was greeted by that attempt. “Pup. Tell me.”