Between States Box Set

Under a Confederate Moon-6

Caleb usually reverted to his human form while asleep, so he assumed it wasn’t as painful as the original transformation. On long nights, in the dead of winter, he stayed in the bobcat form for ten hours, more during the solstice. But spring was in the sweet Virginia air; the moon had risen late and sped across the sky in its haste to sink below the horizon. Caleb woke a few hours before dawn, some thick patches of hair still clinging to his arms and legs, but on the whole, human again. Fine, cold dew beaded along his bare skin. The first faint rays from the rising sun slanted through the trees, casting the forest in an indistinct haze. White patches of fog clung like ghosts to the branches above, distorting the light. Without his animal senses, Caleb thought the morning eerily silent.

Yawning, Caleb stretched awake, and was surprised to feel his leg move against something, or rather, someone else. The night flooded back in an instant—the gunshot, the scent of blood, the wound, the rabbits, Brance. Now Caleb felt the arm draped over his shoulders, warding off the morning chill. Now he felt the insistent hard d**k pressed against his buttocks. Now he heard steady breathing, and when he turned over in the embrace, he found himself face to face with a man staring back. Barely daring to breathe, he sighed, “Hey.”

The arm around him tightened. Caleb took in the clear, pale eyes, golden in the early light. He saw the disheveled auburn beard, thick sideburns, and rough mustache. An old scar cut across the man’s right eyebrow where the bobcat had had a similar mark. Those piercing eyes searched his. His silence didn’t surprise Caleb, given his demeanor the night before. When Caleb raised his leg between them, the thick patch of hair kinked at the man’s groin tickled his knee. Caleb smoothed a hand down the muscled chest to clutch at the erection still poking his way. The firm flesh excited him, like steel wrapped in velvet, that soft, that hard. His voice cracked with sudden lust. “Brance. Hey.”

Perturbed, Brance sighed. “You’re still here.”

In response, Caleb squeezed gently, working the hard shaft between them. Brance’s eyes slipped shut and he thrust into Caleb’s hand. The guttural moan that escaped his lips sounded like a purr. Caleb leaned in to touch his mouth to Brance’s—the moustache scratched his upper lip, but he licked out to wet the hair down, then kissed the man. He didn’t expect much of a response; if anything, he thought Brance might pull away or shrug him off.

So he was surprised to find that suddenly Brance was the one pressing him back to the ground, his mouth hard against Caleb’s, his tongue dipping between Caleb’s lips to taste his depths. Strong hands cupped his face, cradling him as they kissed; a firm tongue massaged his own, hungry for him. With both hands, Caleb grabbed Brance’s c**k, stroking it, slipping below the thick length to fondle the hairy sac that hung beneath. Brance’s lips glided over Caleb’s jaw, along the curve of his neck, to find a spot somewhere behind his left ear. Hot breath blew through him, igniting his blood. Strong, narrow hips thrust against him, rubbing along his own aching erection. Once again Caleb found himself unable to form words, and only the most rudimentary speech fell from his heated lips. “God,” and “Yes,” and a rapid little uh uh uh that sounded like a string of yelps.

Against his neck, Brance breathed, “I’m injured, remember.” Caleb nodded, yes, whatever he said. Just don’t stop touching me, he prayed as Brance’s lips blazed a trail down his neck to pool kisses at the base of his throat. Don’t let this end. Say whatever you want, do what you will, just please don’t stop.

Brance’s hot tongue licked away the dew on Caleb’s chest, leaving warmth in its wake. On his hands and knees above Caleb, Brance moved down farther, his beard tickling Caleb’s bare chest. His kisses seemed playful, almost taunting. When Caleb shifted under him, Brance pounced on his right n****e, closing his lips over the tender bud and nipping at it, much the same way Caleb had toyed with Brance’s belly earlier. A rumble deep in Brance’s throat spread through Caleb like a tremor; he gasped, arched against the man, pressing as much of his body to Brance’s as he could. The length between his legs throbbed, pulsing with the rapid beat of his heart, eager for release. His balls ached, and he kept tugging on Brance’s c**k, dipping it towards him with one hand, pinching the tip with the other and rubbing the thin juice beginning to weep from it onto his own hard shaft.

Brance moved from one over-sensitized n****e to the next. Caleb squirmed beneath him, gasping at the teeth that bit his swollen teats erect. His hips thrust up from the ground and his d**k poked Brance in the belly, eager for its moment in that ardent mouth. His body felt alive for the first time in years, focused on the sensations that pleasured him, with a heightened sense of awareness that his human form never seemed capable of achieving. He wanted to savor this moment, draw out the leisurely tongue that strolled along his torso, stretch out the passion that energized his mind.

Finally Brance’s beard brushed against Caleb’s pubic mound. His c**k swung up to meet the feverous lips that closed over the tip. Sure fingers wrapped around his shaft and tugged, working him harder. They cradled his balls, then eased between his legs to strum along puckered skin. Caleb tugged at the grass, pulling fistfuls free as he writhed against Brance. As his erection slipped from Brance’s mouth, the man took a moment to suck his thumb, wetting it to ease entry. Caleb whimpered, watching those gaunt cheeks work around the man’s own digit the way he desperately wanted them to suckle at him. “Please,” he sobbed, so close now, so damn close…

Repositioning himself, Brance took Caleb’s d**k into his mouth again as his thumb smoothed along trembling flesh to find the tight hole at the center of Caleb’s being. With Caleb’s cockhead butting up against the roof of his mouth, Brance ran his tongue along the slit in Caleb’s d**k with short, fast strokes that promised a quick release. One hand milked his shaft, squeezing and kneading and begging him to come; the other caressed his nuts as the thumb wriggled into his ass. When the large appendage cleared his sphincter to bump against his prostate, Caleb let out a lustful sound that ripped from his throat like a bobcat’s primal cry. His c**k spasmed in Brance’s mouth as the man drank him down, devouring his seed.

At some point, Caleb’s mind cleared and he heard labored breathing, heaving pants that startled him when he realized they were his own. Strong hands held him against a broad body; damp lips rested on the back of his neck, just below his hairline. Caleb still felt Brance’s hard c**k butting up against his backside, but when he reached for it to offer release, Brance swatted his hand aside. When he found it again, tracing the length to its tip, Brance caught his hand and laced his fingers through Caleb’s to keep him from playing with it. Half-turning in Brance’s embrace, Caleb started, “I just wanted—”

“Hush.” Brance’s breath tickled his bare skin.

Caleb suspected perhaps the tender moment between them was the gruff man’s unconventional way of saying thanks. What a way to show your appreciation, he thought, curling into Brance’s arms. He felt sheltered with this man, he felt safe, as if Brance somehow shielded him from the harsh reality that threatened to shatter this post-coital peace. Between his legs, his c**k still hummed from Brance’s ministrations. When he tried to find the words to explain the whirlwind within him, nothing came to mind.

The only thing he knew was that he never, ever wanted to let this moment go.