Entries tagged with “M solo”.

It was a small room. It could charitably be described as “cozy,” though the furniture was a bit sparse for that; there was a smallish set of shelves and an end table, both rather simple in style, the latter sitting beside an armchair that was really the room’s only point of comfort. On the other side of the chair was a small metal rack, with a few cables running over to the wall under a cover strip and diverging from there to different receptacles.

The red panda lowered himself into the chair with some trepidation. It was hardly the first time Alex had been in here; it was just that what he was about to do went so much farther than anything he previously had.

He leaned over the rack to flip a switch on the little box that rested there, snagging a cable that ran from it as he sat back up and settled himself.

Well, the only way to see how well this worked was to try it, right?


Whatever some people thought or said, Zack could tell when someone was not available to him.

Oh, he liked to keep his eyes open. And if he didn’t know, he was always willing to ask. Sometimes he got turned down, and that was all right; sometimes the turning-down was downright aggressive, and while he thought those people needed to not take it quite so seriously, he had no problem leaving them alone once he knew they were off-limits.

Sometimes, of course, he didn’t need to ask. Like that caracal, the one that had come in with Toni’s stripey roommate. Charlie. Zack had overheard him at the bar, turning down another guy with an easygoing “Thanks, but I’m straight.” Zack wasn’t stupid; he didn’t need to pester the guy himself just to get that confirmed firsthand.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream a little.


It was a lonely stretch of road, and Tamarra never expected to encounter anyone there. Usually that was fine; she wasn’t the sort who needed company at all times, and she was never too far from a city, so it wasn’t a great burden when she did have such a craving.

At any rate, she was caught off guard when Saldarin came to a halt, the worg lifting his head and looking to the left, upwind. By the set of his ears – and the very fact that he’d stopped at all instead of just sniffing and listening as he trotted along – it was either a person, or an animal that didn’t belong around here – which would probably mean people again.


The autumn winds were rushing in from the north, and bringing with them a heavy tumble of clouds. Rain was coming, a heavy, chill rain that would sweep this scrubland without mercy.

It was as Brennan was considering his all-too-scanty options for cover that he felt a familiar prickle between his shoulders.

That was the only way he knew the change was coming. It had no rhythm that he’d been able to glean; it could strike at any time of day or night, hungry or fed, alert or drowsy. Sometimes weeks or even a full turn of the moon would go by without one; other times one would come less than a day after the prior had waned. But when his skin started to itch and feel ill-fitting upon him, he knew the change would come, welcome or not, within the day; in a matter of hours it would be too uncomfortable to conceal entirely.


“It’s no good!”

The words barely rose over the howling wind. Allan turned his head, one fleece-gloved hand held up to shelter his cheek from the wind and snow, and stomped over to the one who’d spoken.

“This storm won’t show us any mercy,” she called – not quite as loudly, but she still needed to work to make herself heard. “We need to get out of the wind as best we can, and make some shelter – poor Raskin isn’t doing well out here.”


Someone, somewhere, was very lucky.

Ian didn’t know who. He didn’t even know if that someone knew about it. But the bear’s roommate certainly had his eye on somebody, and whoever that was, they had quite something to look forward to.

It wasn’t just the physical aspect – although, seeing the polecat dozing in bed, it was easy enough to think of times when Ian had seen rather more than his head and shoulders exposed. Too easy, in fact; it took an effort of will to bring his attention back to his schoolwork, back to the composition he was supposed to be writing. His eyes didn’t want to stay focused on the notes he was nudging around the staves; they wanted to turn behind him, to strain as though they could see right through the sheets, to drink in the sight of, well, however much of Judas wasn’t clothed under those covers. Maybe more.

But no. It wasn’t Judas’s mere appearance that made Ian envy that mysterious someone. It was the intensity of the slender youth’s need.



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Any doubts I had as to the nature of this encounter rather vanished when I was half-led, half-shoved into a capacious and well-appointed bedroom. The windows were barred; the single door was heavy and oaken, and bore a similarly heavy steel lock. When Trellig locked the door behind her, she did so with the key; there would be no opening the door without it, either.

“I don’t have much time, pretty, so this will have to be just a taste of what’s to come.” She gripped my shoulder just long enough to shove me toward the bed; and though shorter than I by a head, that was certainly tall for a woman, and she was powerfully-built besides, made all the more imposing by her antique-styled leather jerkin, heavy cavalry boots, and the pistol resting in plain sight at her hip.


Blake had been right about one thing. It was bloody hot.

The evening should have brought with it a bit of relief from that heat. But even after he’d returned the rental truck and caught a bus back to the dorm, he’d still needed to actually unpack the things Blake had helped him move in. And unfortunately, the dorm room only had a single window.

Goddamn dorms. Blake had no idea how good he had it, moving in off campus. A proper house. No massive horde of students around. A proper room, with a chance for some actual air movement. Space that wasn’t shared by dozens of people.

As Charlie pushed back into the room, shirtless and still damp after a badly-needed shower, his gaze settled on the unoccupied bed, and he glared at it.

No roommates. Housemates, sure, but no roommates. Damn it. He hadn’t seen hide nor hair of his yet, but he could hardly expect that luck to hold all year.


The door closed, shutting out the noise of the world. The bolt turned under the marten’s fingers, and he sank back against it with a sigh.

If he were a little more vain, he might think people were going out of their way to cockblock him. But Adam Stone wasn’t that vain. He showed himself off to advantage, and that was normally enough; not so much lately, though. The few girls who’d made eyes at him tonight really weren’t his type, even if his arrangement with Sam had allowed other girls; and the guys, while fair game for him, had apparently all been either committed themselves or after something else. He’d thought he was close – three times, at that; a nice wild turn on the dance floor, happening to rub hip to hip, eyes meeting, a bit of a spark greeting his gaze… and then, suddenly, nothing. Three times.

He’d never been so close to that much cock without getting at least some action out of it. And it had left him acutely aware of a deep-seated need to get stuffed.

Oh, well. He was a big boy now; he could take care of things on his own. (more…)

<< Back to Chapter 4: The Game’s Afoot | On to Chapter 6: Hook, Line, and Sinker >>

The next Wednesday was another evening of drinks at Casey’s. Sarah continued down her list of sexually-named cocktails, making me blush from the way she said the very first one, but couldn’t make Enrique bat an ear however ha- however much she tried.

God damn it.

Sam didn’t help with his muttered reply of “Just you wait” to a few of the more blatantly named ones, of course.

Eventually, we set out for their place, and I blushed all the way there. It just figured, too, that Sam wanted to get a barbecue meal in before cooking outside became uncomfortable. After that exchange at the bar, anything remotely suggestive – even so passively so as the sausages being cooked up – was getting to me.