The Cat's Meow Read online

  The Cat’s Meow

  By Sean Michael

  “Maks, please. You need to come down and deal with some of this nonsense.”

  “Karenne, you speak as if I can simply jog downstairs and appear in the office like a puff of smoke.” He was only, what? Sixteen hours or so travel time away? “We have other brothers who are closer.” And less solitary.

  “But, Maks... You’re the oldest.” And the least pleasant.

  He rumbled, shook his head at his beloved, irritating sister. “Call Pietr. Or Naveen.”

  His twin, Cedric, was less likely than him to travel toward Cape Town, even if Ric much preferred the beaches of Mexico over the snowy plains Maks was more comfortable in.

  There was a knock on his door. Not a buzz from the intercom to let someone in at the front door downstairs, but an actual knock on his actual door.

  Maks growled softly. “Karenne, I have to go.”

  He didn’t wait for her answer, he simply snapped the phone closed and stalked toward the door. “Who is it?”

  “Delivery for, uh... M. Davin.”

  He grabbed a staff from the pot near the door, checked the peephole.

  There was a big, burly man dressed in jeans and a denim jacket over a white T-shirt, standing next to a large box on a dolly. The man was maybe in his early thirties, with short dark hair that didn’t look like it had seen a comb in awhile. Maks couldn’t make out his eye color through the peephole, but he could make out the man’s impatience.

  It hung over him like a cloak.

  “Where’s the delivery from?”

  The guy held up his clipboard. “Winsome Galleries.”

  “Huh.”

  Okay.

  He opened the door, staff in hand.

  The guy’s eyebrow went up at the sight of the staff, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Where do you want it?”

  “Just leave it here in the foyer.” He couldn’t for the life of him remember ordering something from a gallery.

  “You want it out of the box, man?” The guy looked at him, eyes a dark, almost-midnight blue.

  His nostrils flared, scenting the air instinctively. “Please.”

  The guy grabbed the crowbar from the top of the box and made short work of opening it. Inside was a bronze colored sculpture of a half-man, half-beast. A weretiger in the throes of changing. It was electric, alive. He could almost hear the snarl.

  His cock jerked, swelled. “Who sent this?”

  Hell, who’d made it?

  “Winsome Galleries.” The guy handed over the clipboard, and worked on getting the statue off the base of the box. “I need you to sign at the bottom, please.”

  “Mmmhmm.” He signed, his focus on the statue. Stunning.

  “You like it,” the guy said, standing and staring at it for a moment.

  “It’s stunning.”

  The guy grunted, and started stacking the box it came in onto his dolly. The jean jacket seemed to creak as the muscles it hid worked.

  The temptation to pounce the man, to growl and latch hold of the man’s nape, was huge.

  The guy turned, frowned. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing.” He hadn’t spoken a word.

  “No? Sorry, thought you said something. If you’ve signed that...” The guy’s voice was low, deep and growly, and it settled right in Maks’ balls.

  “No. I didn’t and I have.” And if the man didn’t leave, immediately, Maks was going to pounce him.

  “Cool. Thanks, man.” The guy turned the dolly around and headed out the door, and Maks got a good view of a firm little ass encased in worn blue jeans.

  The door closed and he locked it, one hand dragging down his body. The heat inside wanted out; the hunter wanted to play, and he shrugged his shirt off, ripped open his slacks. He could smell the man on the other side of the door, male and musky. Sexy. He growled, the sound ringing out. Run, human. Run.

  An off-key singing started up from outside. Maks stopped, hand on his belly, a curious trill sounding. He couldn’t quite make up the words, but it was that same, rough voice, not from right outside the door, but a little way down the hall.

  The hallway was his. This floor was his. He couldn’t resist the growl, the urge to open the door and look out.

  The delivery man was standing by the elevator, small book in one hand, pencil in another, drawing as he sang.

  The cat in Maks was at the edge, and he purred, enjoying the scent of the man.

  The singing stopped and the guy looked over. Seeing him, the guy came over. “I forget something?”

  “No.” No, why hadn’t the man gone?

  The guy tilted his head, nodded at him. “No? Is the place on fire? Should we be taking the stairs?”

  “No. I heard...” He growled softly. “Sorry.”

  The guy licked his lips and cleared his throat. “You might want to put your clothes back on next time you think you hear something, man.” The elevator made a soft noise, the doors sliding open. “This is me.”

  “You should go.” Maks’ cock was hard, aching, and he wanted to pounce.

  “Yeah, I should.” The guy’s eyes dropped to his crotch, looking hard.

  He scented the air again, the male musk luscious.

  The elevator doors closed. “So. Is this a come on?”

  “If you aren’t careful, it’s going to be a pouncing.”

  A low, sexy chuckle sounded. “You come out dressed in a pair of briefs that don’t really hide a fucking thing, and I’m what? Supposed to not want you to pounce?”

  He chirruped softly, confused, then the cat-brain took over and he pounced, dragging the man into his den.

  “Whoa, whoa, you know, I’d have said yes.” The guy was half laughing.

  He nuzzled in, licking, knowing his tongue was rough.

  “Fuck, you’re focused.” Groaning, his prey tilted his head back, submitting. Pretty.

  He nipped hard, playing with his toy. Strong fingers gripped his arms, dragged down his back. He arched, hips canting back. The man’s mouth met his, tongue pushing in as the hands on his back slid lower. Oh, he wanted. He wanted. Their chests slapped together as he pushed the man back against the wall.

  They fought for dominance, this man strong, but not as strong as him. Finally, his prey relaxed against the wall, let him control the kiss. He dove into it, fingers dragging over the strong body, not quite scoring the man’s skin. The strong body jerked, pushed against him.

  “Prrrrrretty.” He pushed the man’s shirt up so he could scent skin.

  “Fuck. Fuck, you know what you want, don’t you?” The man’s hands ran through his hair, petting him roughly.

  “Yes.” He lapped at one small, brown nipple, dragging his tongue over it.

  It hardened for him, like it was reaching for his touch. Maks fastened his lips onto it, sucking hard. He could smell how much the man liked that, the scent coming from his crotch was strong. Maks’ fingers worked the man’s fly open, so he could learn more, know more.

  “Jesus, fuck.” The guy spread a little for him, cock pushing hard at his underwear.

  “Maks. Name’s Maks.”

  “Deke.”

  The man -- Deke -- pushed his hips forward.

  Deke.

  He pressed the heel of his hand against Deke’s cock through the cotton, working the tip. That earned him a low, needy-sounding moan and the hands in his hair tightened. The hint of violence enflamed him, and he snarled softly, his cock throbbing. Yes. Yes, more.

  Maks leaned down, teeth testing the tiny nipple.

  “Fuck, more!”

  He nipped again, his fingernails scratching along the man’s briefs.

  Deke pushed against his head a little. “Go for it.”

  This last bite
was sharp, and he tore the cotton briefs away. Deke’s cock pushed right out at him, full and red, the tip leaking. He licked, tongue trailing from base to tip, curling around the head. Jerking, Deke pushed forward, cock sliding along his cheek, leaving a trail of pre-come. He purred, licked again, learning the tastes and heat of the hungry man.

  “Take. Come on. I know you want it.”

  He pulled off, bit the man’s hip, a warning: don’t push if you can’t back it up.

  “Fuck!” The hands in his hair pulled, but Deke pushed into the bite, into his mouth.

  Those hands tilted his head, heavy cock parting his lips, pressing deep. So good. So daring.

  “Fucking hot.” Deke fucked his mouth; there was nothing gentle or tentative about the strokes that filled him over and over.

  His hands curled around the heavy thighs, nails digging in. Deke made wonderful noises: loud groans and almost growls that went straight to his balls. He sucked harder, hungry now, needing to taste, to know.

  “Gonna. Fuck.” Deke’s thrusts became desperate.

  He rolled Deke’s balls in their sac, pushing. Deke shouted something he didn’t recognize and hot, salty come poured into his mouth. The saltbitterwildness was something he would remember, know.

  “Fuck.” Deke leaned against the wall, panting. “That...”

  He purred around the cock in his mouth. Yes. He was good.

  “Come on up here, man. Let me help you out.”

  He slipped up along the muscled body. That got him another moan, Deke reaching into his shorts to grab his cock. His prick was long, lean, thin, curving up toward his belly. Deke’s hand was large, wrapping easily around it and pulling hard. He could feel calluses, scars.

  The cat wanted out, but Maks fought it, fought him, focused on the pleasure.

  Deke pushed their mouths together as that hand worked his cock. The man tasted like sex, and all male.

  “Harder.” He humped quickly, driving against the touch.

  Hand closing tighter around his cock, Deke stroked faster. The man’s kisses grew harder, too, found teeth. The nips made him wild, and he humped like he was running.

  “Fuck, yeah.” The hand around his prick grew even tighter, Deke dragging a thumbnail across the tip.

  Maks roared, heat pouring from him in waves.

  “Yeah. Yeah, there you go.” Deke sounded fairly smug.

  The cat pushed to the fore and he panted harshly, trying to keep it in.

  Mouth closing on his, Deke took a long, lazy kiss. He pressed close, letting his body scent Deke’s. Fingers back in his hair, Deke held his head in place as the kiss got deep for a moment. His purrs rumbled out of him, and he arched into the touch.

  One hand moved, slid down his back, along his spine. His body rippled, the touch hard enough to be perfect.

  “Fuck, you’re a sexy kitty.”

  Deke had no idea.

  ***

  Deke changed into black jeans and a black T-shirt, shrugging on his leather jacket before he headed out the door.

  He’d spent the last four days pounding his head against his latest pieces, trying to make something -- anything -- work. The fucking muse had left the building, though, and he needed to get out, have a few drinks, grind up against some hot bodies to some spine-jarring music.

  It had all started with that damned dream. He’d seen the piece so clearly, and when he’d woken up he’d created it like a man possessed.

  Half man, half tiger, the sculpture had been electric, alive.

  And then it had led to Mr. Hoity-Toity, penthouse living, abs of steel, mouth of sex himself.

  God, Deke hadn’t done anything so stupid in a dog’s age. He couldn’t shake it, either, that was the real reason he couldn’t concentrate on his work. Stupid, impetuous, and over in a flash, but he couldn’t forget it, couldn’t get the need out of his system. Wasn’t fucking supposed to have the opposite effect? It always had in the past.

  Deke pushed his way into Global Bar, his thoughts finally quieting under the heavy beat of the music. The floor was alive, bodies writhing on the dark floor.

  Yes, this was what he needed, what he wanted.

  He didn’t even bother with the bar, just pushed through to the dance floor, joining the throng. Hands and hips and asses rubbed against him. The beat of the music slammed down around him, making the floor vibrate. He closed his eyes and raised his arms and moved, letting it all flow through him and around him. Fuck yeah.

  “Jesus, look at that, man.” One man hollered the words to another, a hand pointing up to the little stage where...

  Dude.

  Maks.

  Dressed in leather, long red hair caught back in a tail, the man was writhing. It was like his fucking dream. He pushed his way toward the stage, eyes glued to the man putting on the sexiest fucking show. The man’s hips rolled, rocked, legs parting as he went down, humping the air.

  Deke had never seen anything so fuckable.

  Acting on impulse got him into trouble a lot -- like the first time he’d seen Maks and had allowed his gut to convince him that going back into the man’s apartment and making out up against the wall was a good idea.

  Still, his gut was all he had at the end of the day, so, following the current impulse rushing through him, he hauled himself up onto the stage.

  Those bright green eyes flashed, and he could swear the man scented him. “Hey.”

  The undulating movements never stopped. He stepped closer, moving so Maks’ body pressed against him as the man writhed. And just like that, he was hard and needy. Fuck a duck.

  The man’s entire body was vibrating, rumbling against him. Maks was still a sexy kitty and Deke reached out, grabbed the man’s hips and pulled them up into his. Strength met his, their bodies grinding. The music drove their rhythm as they practically fucked right up there on stage.

  Sharp teeth nipped his ear, fingers dug into one of his hips. Fuck, this guy was primal. It was awesome.

  The beat of the music got faster and faster, driving them both, driving the whole crowd. He leaned in, wrapping his teeth around the skin where Maks’ neck met his shoulder. He could feel something very much like the air crackling between them.

  “Let’s get out of here.” He spoke the words into Maks’ ear.

  “Yes.” That rough tongue slid up his neck.

  He wrapped his hands around Maks’ waist and started moving the man toward the back edge of the stage where there were little stairs. The way the man moved was an addiction, the hottest thing he’d ever seen. They all but stumbled down the stairs, his mouth grabbing onto Maks’.

  Maks’ leg wrapped around him as soon as they hit the bottom, hit a wall. Deke grabbed the man’s ass and pushed him against the wall again. Harder. A growl pushed into his lips, nails sliding up over his back.

  He was in danger of doing the man right here, up against the wall at the club. And he didn’t give a shit.

  The nails pushed in deeper, stinging. He bucked in response, rubbing their groins together.

  “Fuck. Fuck...” His earlobe was given another sharp bite.

  He kept bucking, humping, sure he was going to cream his jeans and not giving a fuck.

  “Smell you.”

  Groaning, he pistoned his hips harder. Maks’ teeth tested the curve of his neck as the man humped his leg.

  “More!” He wanted more, just... something to push him over the edge.

  Nails scraped over his chest, catching his nipple and making it sting. Fuck! If he and Maks ever managed to get naked together, they were going to go up in fucking flames. It might actually be worth trying.

  Right now, though... right now he fucking needed. He humped Maks right there up against the wall, working toward coming, toward making them both come.

  “Come on, boys. Find a room.” That was a bouncer.

  The words hit him and he heard Maks snarl, saw the broad-cheeked face change, flatten for a heartbeat. It made his heart pound and he made sure his grip on Maks’ ass was tight a
s he moved them toward the little hallway at the back of the club that housed the washrooms; there was no way he was going to actually stop.

  Maks rubbed and followed, groaning and growling in turn.

  As soon as they were in the washroom, he pushed Maks into a stall and started humping the man again. He kept imagining that shifting face, those eyes. Fuck. He took Maks’ mouth, the kiss hot and hard, eager. Maks met each and every thrust with a motion of his own.