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"This shit is getting out of hand, Markus." The rottie, Eric, called out.

The doberman's ears flicked when he heard Eric, say his name, but he didn't bother to pull his gaze away from the dead grizzly that was sprawled out at his feet. His nose twitched at the strong smell of iron in the air as trickles of blood slithered through the grooves in the bricke covered streets.

He noticed the look of disgust on the big burly rottie's scarred-up mug as he kicked the body over. The bear's eyes were wide open and six bullet wounds were spread out across his chest, wrist, and his head. "The Amici must have truly lost their minds if they think we're going to take this shit lying down."

Markus pulled a cigarette away from his lips to exhale a stream of smoke. "Eric, you already knew this was going to happen. After the Vozza family stole that drug deal from your little rivals, the Amici, the bad blood you lot have for each other only thickened. So them trying to blow up one of your strongholds is a normal reaction after they lose hundreds of thousands of dollars." He tapped the butt of his cigarette, knocking the ashes onto the grizzly's face before wrapping his lips around it again.

Eric's nose wrinkled up in annoyance at Markus's tone, but he didn't give a damn. He wasn't a mafioso, and didn't belong to either family, which rubbed both sides wrong because he was a liability. Yet, both sides tolerated his neutrality due to his skills at disposing of the bodies of the poor souls that got in the crossfire between the two rivaling families. He was always neat and quick, and was never caught by local law enforcement either. It had gotten to the point that he as labelled "The Reaper", which he personally found corny, but as long as he got paid he didn't care what the mob wanted to call him.

"Markus, one of these days you're going to have to stop dicking around and decide which side you're going to be on. Even though our Don is a forgiving and easygoing man, he doesn't like loose ends," Eric said.

Markus snorted before taking a long drag of the cigarette. "Mmm. You're sounding too much like the Amici now, Eric." The doberman turned around and walked over to the back of his car. "Granted though, I already know that Drako is a lot more easy going than the head of the Amici, Tiller. Which is the only reason I deal more with your family than theirs. However, even though I like you Vozzas and adore Drako, I still won't chose a side. Though as things stand now, your two families are going to end up fighting until one side is wiped out. So maybe I won't have to chose at all." The doberman smirked as he tossed a body bag at Eric that he had pulled out from the car. "Go on, help me get this big boy in there."

"What do I look like, your assistant? Do your damn job and bag him yourself," Eric snarled.

A loud slap against the side of the car made both of their ears shoot up. "Eric...how often do I have to tell you about that temper of yours?" A deep, dark baritone voice called out.

At the words, the rage in the rottie's eyes dimmed down. "I know, Vodak, but why the hell should I help out this ungrateful bastard out, much less be courteous to him?"

Markus rolled his eyes and turned to see a bull walk into view. Vodak, like always, was dressed to impress. He was that old-school mafioso, the kind of guy who looked like he walked out of a movie. He wore a black silk suit with a matching pair of slacks and a white undershirt that was just loose enough to allow him to move, but tight enough to show off his bulging muscles. Vodak had an air of class to him that went beyond the clothes though. He was the man that most in the Vozza looked up to for leadership.

His decisions were always thought out, accurate, and reliable.When he was put on a job, it got done, there were no failures in his record. The few times Markus was called up by Vodak to deal with the bodies had left him with a migraine that refused to go away. Although the bull didn't like to kill if it wasn't necessary, he had no issue taking out a whole group of people that dare to cause harm to the Vozza.

The doberman's gaze softened as he watched Vodak walk over to Eric. The bull's septum ring bounced when he huffed in annoyance. "This 'ungrateful bastard' is the one that keeps your ass out of jail when you do a fucking sloppy job. That bastard is the guy that gets his hands dirty for the sake of our family, even if he stays neutral. Who cares if he does it for the money, as long as Markus does his job and does it well we will have no issue. Understand?" Vodak's tone had become harsh and commanding, giving no room for negotiation. Eric's face scrunched up and it looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he turned around and grumbled as he fought to get the bear into the bag. "Sorry about that Markus."

Markus rolled his eyes, and he put out his cigarette on the sole of his shoe. "I don't got time to get pissed every time an upstart tries to nip at my heels." The doberman smiled as he caught the glare from Eric in the corner of his eye.

Under the streetlights, Vodak's smirk looked bright and filled with life, something that the doberman rarely got to see in his line of work. "True, though if I remember, you laid out one of the new lads when he tried to put his hands on you."

"That was six years back when even I was young and reckless. Surely you don't see me like that nowadays?"

Vodak shook his head as he scratched at the ebony horns that curved down and around his pointed ears. "Not at all. Otherwise I would have came here to find Eric with a bloodied nose and on the ground in pain."

At Vodak's words, Eric ears shot up and he looked over at Markus in shock. Not that the doberman blamed him. Markus wasn't the biggest, most muscular guy on the street. He was lean and toned, and most of his muscles were always hidden under his baggy shirt and jeans. Since most people, even those in the mafia, judged off of looks and reputation, many underestimated Markus. At least, the younger generation. Any of the old-timers, such as Vodak, knew better than to look down on the doberman.

"Good thing you didn't. I'd rather not have to tussle with you." Markus shrugged nonchalantly. "Are you done yet?" He looked back at Eric.

"Shut it! You can carry it back to your hearse," the rottie huffed and pointed to the Lincoln Continental that Markus was driving.

Vodak's eyes narrowed. "Show some respect. Take the body and put it in the car."

"But, boss!" Eric's ears dropped.

"Either you do it or I'll do it. It's your choice," the bull said, his gaze bearing down on the rottie.

Markus wanted to laugh at the look of defeat, annoyance, and hate that flashed on the rottie's face. It went without saying that Eric wasn't going to let Vodak carry the body, out of fear of what the consequences would be. However, the knowledge that Vodak, a bull that even Drako sought after for his opinion, was willing to help someone like Markus who wasn't even apart of the family, made Eric realize that Markus wasn't someone that he should make an enemy of. "I'll do it, boss...no need to dirty your hands for something like this."

Vodak gave a curt nod. "Good, once you're done you can go. I'm sure you have better things to deal with."

"Yes sir..." Eric said begrudgingly through gritted teeth as he tossed the body over his shoulders and chucked it into the trunk of the car.

After the rottie had slammed the door shut and stormed off, Markus finally laughed. "These new pups seem like a handful."

Vodak huffed again but his gaze softened significantly when it met the doberman's. "Don't fault them, things have been tense lately since the Amici's have been making jabs at us whenever and wherever they can. This incident where they actually tried to plant explosives around one of our strongholds is going to start a war."

"Meaning more work for me. Joy," Markus muttered and slipped his cigarette butt into his jacket pocket.

"I'm serious, Markus. You need to be careful. Since things have gotten to this point, both sides are going to be on edge. Although Eric is a pup who doesn't know shit, he is right. Neither side wants loose ends. It would be better if you come on over to Vozza. You know we have always treated you better, and paid you more too," Vodak said.

At the bull's words, Markus sighed, his shoulders lax under the bull's gaze. "I'm a big dog, Vodak." Markus stepped up closer and patted the the bull's chest, letting his hand linger. "I been at this a lot longer than you, calf. If there's one thing I know is how to take care of myself."

Vodak looked conflicted a bit as he placed his hand on top of Markus's. The doberman's chest grew warm at the simple, yet gentle gesture. "I hope so. You have me worrying about you more than I should."

"There's nothing for you to worry about, big guy." Markus smiled.

Vodak didn't smile back. Squeezing the doberman's hand, he took a step closer to the point where their chests were almost pressed up against one another. "You keep saying that, yet I keep finding out that you've been fucking with other guys for the past few days."

Markus's ears dropped and he stepped back, tugging his hand out of Vodak's grasp, his hackles started to rise. "We're not together, you little brat. Who I fuck with is my own business, nor do I appreciate you taking a dip into my personal life."

Vodak never pulled his hand away from his chest as his brows furrowed. If anyone else were to see this, they would have taken a step back in fear, but Markus didn't shrink back even a little. "I know that...though I'm only telling you this because if I can find out without even trying, it won't be long till others will. A gay mafioso is practically a dead mafioso. I know you're a part of no family, but as things have been riding out lately, if anyone finds out, it'll give them an excuse to--"

"Off me? I'd like to see them try," the doberman snapped as he pulled out his keys and brushed past Vodak, who didn't bother to stop him. "I appreciate the thoughts though, Vodak. However, you should look out for yourself too," Markus said as he hopped into the driver's seat. "You are a mafioso, and a gay one. I don't want you to become a dead one..." Closing the door, Markus drove off without turning to look back.

Then again, he didn't need to. He had known Vodak for too long, and he knew how the bull felt. Sighing lightly, Markus rubbed the bridge of his nose, as the passing street lights were making his head throb. Vodak wasn't wrong, he had found himself slipping up a lot more lately. It showed from how quickly the bull was able to find out about his one-night stands. He used to be short and discreet about who he fucked, and when and where they met up. It would never be at his place, and it was always a quick hit-and-run.

Now, he had been finding himself getting drunk and mingling more often. He had found himself driving hours out of town to go to hole in the wall bars to make himself feel...younger, more alive. He was pushing the grey-muzzle stage at the age of thirty-seven, and he was feeling it. He had aches where he never experienced them before, and he was finding it harder to keep up with his day-to-day job along with 'side jobs' for the mob. It was also getting a lot harder to dispose of or hide bodies from the police these days. There had been a few incidents where he had almost been caught, and if not for the fact that he had more than one hideout, his nub butt would be behind bars. Yet, that was the risk he had to take in his line of work. Same when it came to the potential of getting offed for any fuck-ups. Like being found out for being queer.

Markus licked his parched lips as he rolled down the window. The bad blood between the Amici and Vozza had been going on for the last fifty years. When Markus had gotten into his line of work, the two families had a truce. Neither side fucked with the other. Business stayed separate and they wouldn't try to encroach on the other's territory.

Of course, everyone in the mob and those associated with them knew this was just temporary. Neither side would stand sharing the town with the other, but neither side had a way to handle the other. So to avoid too much bloodshed, the truce was made. Back then, Markus didn't have to stress too much, since the truce made it easier for him to do business with both sides. That, and seeing as he gained the rep for being completely neutral no matter the offers presented to him, he gained a lot of respect from both dons.

It was actually when he was meeting up with Drako that he and Vodak had first met up. A smile graced the doberman's face as he thought back to that time. Vodak was a little teenage brat, no older than sixteen and was picked up by one of Drako's sons, Kevin, who had a soft spot for kids. He was a lot skinnier, practically half-starved and didn't even have a single tattoo on his body. Yet, even Drako couldn't deny the vibrant will to live that shined in the bull's eyes. When Drako introduced Vodak to Markus, the bull was extremely respectful, yet firm at the same time, a trait that he had still not lost over the last eleven years.

At the time, Markus had been around the mob long enough to tell a bad seed from a good one, and Vodak was definitely the latter. The bull gave off an aura of someone with potential, and that made Markus take a liking to him when he normally preferred to keep his distance. Then again, he wasn't the only one that saw it. Drako treated Vodak almost like a godson and made sure the brat grew up to be someone important and with values. Which was something the mob desperately needed more of these days, in Markus's opinion.

The brat was always looking out for those under him and those around him as well. To a lot of the new pups, he was their father figure in the same way Drako and his sons were to him. Markus leaned back in his chair as he drove down an old country road, the lights of the city now far behind him. There wasn't a single car going down the road, which is what the doberman preferred. Not having to deal with others in front of or behind him gave him a sense of security.

That was one of the things he could relate with when it came to Vodak. The brat had the talent to take one of the leading positions of the family with ease, however, he kept from doing so no matter how often Drako and the others try to force it down his throat. They might not know why, but Markus did. It was because the bull also was like him, a gay man within the mob world.

They both had to be extremely careful about who they fucked, and when and where they did it. The only difference was that while Markus went out of town and with a different partner each time, Vodak preferred to do it with only one person, which was Markus.

The doberman pushed in the built-in lighter for the car before shoving his arm out of the window. Markus still wasn't sure how Vodak had pieced together his affinity for those of the same sex, but he could remember the night years ago when they both got wasted and took a taxi to his place.

The moment his door had closed, he felt the bull's fingers wrapped around his waist and Vodak's mouth crashing onto his own. Even now, while he slipped a cigarette between his lips, he could still remember the taste of whisky on Vodak's tongue. Markus's ass clenched as he relieved the first time he took Vodak. The bull in rut was something even he had trouble taking, but god, with enough alcohol and spit, it was something he cherished when they did it.

The few times they did.

The lighter popped out to alert that it was fully hot, yanking the doberman out of his thoughts. With a long sigh, he lit up his cigarette and took a long drag to let the nicotine calm his raging hormones. "I really need a good long fuck. Someone big and thick that can spread me wide open... A shame the brat is too busy and also in his feelings again. I would have loved to ride him," Markus muttered to himself as he looked to the back of his car, then to the road. Hopefully once Vodak relaxed about his feelings and realized that the two of them couldn't be a couple, they could fuck around again. However, Markus wasn't willing to do anything with the bull when he was feeling sentimental.

He knew a decently tame bar a few hours away where he could get away for a while, slam a few drinks and find a quick fuck. Markus decided he'd head there after dropping off the body in the trunk at the swine pit.

Octave wasn't as lively as it normally was, but then again it had been nearly half a year since Markus had made his way over to this little hole in the wall. The bar had been around longer than Markus had been alive, and had seen its fair share of shit. Thankfully, time never seemed to touch this place, unlike the other bars he'd been too. Octave had candles on the circular tables, and small chandeliers hung over the few booths in the place, giving a low orange lightning that reflected off the hardwood floors. The music was also not bad, as the soft yet lively sounds of the saxophone filled the room.

"Well, well, well. It's been a long time since I seen your handsome mug in my neck of the woods," a raccoon chimed in a flamboyant way as he watched the doberman nod to the bouncer before he made his way to the bar. "What brought a sexy stud like you back to our establishment, Kevin?"

Markus smiled when the bartender used one of his many aliases. "Same as usual Matt. I'm looking to drink myself into a tizzy and grab someone that suits my fancy."

"I can definitely let you tap this ass if you want stud. It's been a long time since I got to feel that dobie cock of yours inside of me." The raccoon licked his lips, teasingly.

The doberman didn't take the bait; instead he snapped his fingers and pointed to the wall of drinks that lined the brick wall behind the raccoon. "The offer is nice, but looking to receive, not give." He smirked at the disappointment in the little raccoon's face. "I'll take the usual glass of Smirnoff on the rocks."

"You're no fun, dobie butt." Matt shrugged and walked over to grab a glass.

Markus shook his head and took a glance around the establishment. They were two tigers chatting with one another, a crocodile who was drinking shots with a shark. There were also three bucks who seemed to be in their own world, a panther who was currently making out with a fox, and a jaguar who sat off in the corner of the bar by himself. "Place seems to be dying."

"Don't look down on what we got here, Kevin." Matt slid the glass over to Markus. "It's a weekday. Place is always dead except for the one off. Come on the weekends and you'll see how lively this place is. Also a lot better choices."

Markus's nose wrinkled a little as he sipped at his glass. The bitter bite of the vodka was a hard wake-up call at midnight. Any hint of wariness the doberman had after the long drive quickly vanished at the heat that surged through him. "Mmm, damn, much needed." Markus drank some more. "Also I think I might do that one of these months. Wouldn't hurt to see if you guys got any good picks apart from the usual bunch."

"Well there has been a nice array of men that shown up here. Especially that jaguar." The raccoon didn't bother to soften his voice as the jaguar's ears perked up. "He is pretty quiet like you, and seems distant, but damn the boy looks like he can pick me up and throw me all over the bedroom." Matt shuddered visibly.

The doberman could only laugh at the horrible matchmaking job Matt was pulling. Still, the doberman couldn't deny what the raccoon had said. Looking over, the doberman smirked as his gaze met the jaguar's. Whoever Mr. Quiet-and-Handsome was, he wasn't the shy type. Most people would keep their head down to pretend that they didn't hear what Matt had said, but the jaguar took the challenge head-on. His amber eyes were strong and bold, like a man who found what he liked and was willing to take it by force if needed.

A coy smile played against the doberman's lips as he took another sip from his drink. He ignored the giggle coming from the little raccoon and let his eyes roam across the jaguar's body. The predator wore a sleeveless black t-shirt which hugged tightly against his thick chest and shoulders, allowing his bulking arms to breathe under the night air. He had to be in his early twenties, which was a rarity to see of someone with such a confident gleam in eyes.

That look alone hit Markus more than the vodka in his hand. Especially when he caught the corners of the youngster's lips curve up to show off his glistening white fangs in the candlelight. The jaguar knew he had caught the doberman's attention and he had no issue showing it, which made Markus want to see where the confidence came from. "Fill me up Matt. I'm going to need it."

"Hehe try to go easy on the boy," Matt giggled again as he filled up Markus's glass before going off to handle another customer that had walked in.

Markus got up and made his way over to the jaguar. Their eyes stayed locked on one another until the doberman was practically right beside him, then the jaguar let his gaze wander. Markus didn't bother to show off or act tough, he was too old for that, and he already knew that he looked good. His black and brown fur had lost some shine to it due to his age, but he still kept himself in shape and he held himself with the confidence he had built over the years. "Like what you see?" Markus smirked.

"Mmm." The jaguar growled hungrily, which made Markus's toes curl up. "I do, but would love to see what you look like without the clothes."

The doberman's nub wagged at the jaguar's words. "What you looking to do with this old dog in your possession?"

"Depends on how rough you like it," the jaguar said with a low purr.

Markus's nose flared at the hint of cologne and musk that wafted from the jaguar, making the feline smell downright irresistible. Placing down his drink, Markus took a seat on the feline's lap, which made the big cat's eyes grow wide in surprise. "Oh you'd be surprised at what all I can handle." He smirked, wrapping his arms around the jaguar's neck.

Markus noticed the slight bit of tension that quickly went away as both of the jaguar's palms cupped his ass, pulling the doberman closer to his crotch. "Can you handle a little bit of pain?" the Jaguar asked, his voice low and husky, their lips close together.

"I prefer it nice and rough. Though I wonder if you can give me what I need... Cub." He leaned down and nipped at the jaguar's chin.

Both of the jaguar's hands squeezed the dobie's ass, as a loud growl of need and lust rumbled from the feline's chest. He glanced up towards Markus's lips and hesitated, making the dobie chuckle in his head. It was cute to see the baffled expression of those younger than him debating on rather it was "okay" to take the next step. Surprisingly, the jaguar didn't leave him hanging for long, as a look of determination flashed across his face before he leaned up and kissed the doberman on the lips.

Markus gave a grunt of approval as his mouth opened up to the feline, his hips grinding down into the jaguar's bulge as their tongues pressed up against one another. Whisky was what the jaguar had prefered, as his tongue still held the flavor. It wasn't bad, just like the kiss itself. The jaguar wasn't as skilled as some, but his eagerness definitely made up for it. Markus happily let the jaguar take the lead, allowing his body to relax in his newfound companion's touch.

A muffled groan escaped the dobie's mouth as his partner's hands left his ass and slipped up his shirt, clawing down his back, sending sharp stings of pain and pleasure straight through his body. "Fuuuuck, boy, you got some nails on you." Markus shuddered and wiggled some more on the jaguar's lap, loving the feel of the bulge pressing between his cheeks. "Let's skip this place. I want to see what else you can do with those hands."

The jaguar nodded, and slapped Markus's ass, making him grind harder into the cat's crotch. "Oh, that's no problem. Just not my place. We can do it at yours or..."

"A motel. Nice and discreet and easy. No names, no numbers. Just a quick dirty fuck where you can do whatever you want to my ass," Markus smirked.

At his words, the jaguar shuddered and slapped the canine's ass again before pushing the doberman off his lap. "Come on. I know of one close by. We'll take my car."

That works well for me. Markus nodded. Although he'd swapped out cars, he'd still rather be safer than sorry. "Let me pay off my drink and I'll meet you outside."

"Got you stud. I'm parked out back in the old mustang. Don't keep me waiting. I want to make sure I get to have time to toy with you all night long." The jaguar grinned and walked out of the bar.

"Oh trust me I won't," Markus chuckled and walked over to Matt who was grinning from ear to ear. "What's with that look?" "Oh you know damn well what this look is for." Matt reached over and slapped Markus on the shoulder. "Might not be able to teach an old dog new tricks, but you won't find anyone that knows what he wants and how he likes it like an old dog. Didn't even take long at all before you had that boy eating out of the palm of your hand. I really need to get some pointers from you."

Markus shrugged, but the hint of pride in his chest still burned hot alongside the vodka. "The younger crowd is easier to deal with. Less need to play the games, when what they want is to get their dick wet or their holes filled. Also don't have to worry about emotions playing in the picture as well."

"True, true. Still, doubt I could grab one up as quickly even if I tried. Then again I don't got a toned ass like yours." Matt playfully huffed as he glared down at Markus's rump. "Oh well, I'll make this one on the house, but you better come back and drink with me soon for this!"

"You got it. I won't be gone as long this time around," Markus laughed and dropped off the glass before walking outside. The Octave was located down a long winding alleyway, a place out of sight and out of mind, just the way he preferred it. Walking down the path, Markus couldn't stop from licking his lips at the thought of shoving that feline's cock down his throat.

He had felt how big the cat was, and that alone made him quake in anticipation. That, and the way the feline clawed at his back was deep and hard, almost enough to draw blood. If that little teasing could get him riled up, he could only imagine what would happen once they dropped the clothes. Would he take the doberman by the head, force him down on his knees and gag him with that thick feline cock of his? The thought alone made Markus's cock throb in his pants to the point it was hard to bear.

Once he was out of the alleyway, he noticed the Mustang that was parked in plain view, and saw the jaguar leaning up against the car. "I see you didn't ditch me," the jaguar teased.

"Of course not. I hope you won't disappoint me." Markus smirked as he watched the jaguar open up the passenger door. "Now aren't you a gentlemen."

"Born and raised that way," the jaguar said. "Too much?"

"Not at all." Markus shook his head. Manners were something that was lacking in the younger generation, that he sorely missed. It was one of the few good traits he did like about the mob. They respected each other, and retained their manners. They weren't downright thugs, they had a code and honor they upheld, which gave them structure. "Thank you." He got into the car and waited till the door was closed before he buckled up. "So which motel are we going to?"

"A generic Motel 8," the jaguar said as he hopped in the car. "Closest one to us."

"Good, I think I know which one you're talking about." Markus smiled.

Nodding his head, the jaguar turned on the car and smiled back. "Good, well just get nice and comfy. It's going to be a quick ride."

Markus nose twitched then body stiffened as something white flashed past his face and pressed heavily on his nose. He wiggled and squirmed, but when he inhaled, he started to feel his body go numb and his mind, which was jumping all over the place, started to fall into a strange sense of calm. His vision started to grow blurry, and the last thing he heard was the jaguar humming, and the revving of the car's engine.