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Jiffy

Chapter 2

Joel

“What the fuck did he mean by 'I hated that last drink?"

Erick Alcan stopped halfway to taking a bite out of the Banh Mi that he had ordered for lunch. Compared to him, the six-inch sandwich looked absolutely minuscule. The gray wolf was the second biggest of the owners of JACKED but had more of a powerlifter build than Amos' bodybuilder physique. The guys often mentioned that between the two, Amos would probably get the most ladies wet - even though he was 100% gay - and Erick could lift the most ladies if he so wanted. He and Joel were exactly the same height which was saying something given Joel included his horns in his 6'4''. Erick's arms were thicker than bowling balls and though his chest was immense, he had a large, rounded gut that was a little softer than the rest of his body.

Joel always mentioned that there was a market for a bear-bodied man like Erick out on the floor of JACKED but after a particular event that they all called the 'Stalker Incident', Erick preferred to stay on the 'morning shift' alongside Dorian. The two acted as the 'support staff' of the club while the remaining four managed the nights when the club was actually open.

“Why don't you just ask him?" Erick asked in his usual gruff, hoarse rumble. Many commented that Erick's voice sounded like he was constantly churning concrete in his throat. What few realized was that the towering gray wolf had a magnificent singing voice. No one could beat him at karaoke.

They sat outdoors on an patio area of Erick's favorite Vietnamese restaurants. It was his lunch break from his day job as a programmer for an technology startup. Joel recalled his friend and occasional lover telling him that their company did something with 'block chain' but he wasn't even sure what that was. During the day, the burly lupine with bright green hair, curly - he changed his hair color every year on his birthday - coded for their company while simultaneously managing the social media of JACKED.

“How, though?" Joel asked, holding up his phone in one hand and his head in the other. “He sent that message this morning. It's now past noon! He knows I've seen it!"

Erick rolled his sky-blue bright eyes partially hidden behind a pair of glasses. In the afternoon California sun, his “What have I told you about turning off read receipts? Why did you have to wait for lunch to grab me?"

Of all the other guys, he was the most socially aware. He was also the one that could arguably be considered the 'loudest' in terms of fashion sense of the guys. Even now, out in the open, he was wearing a black tank top that cut-off at the midriff to show off his rounded belly and the abdominals pushing through his white belly fur while the words 'JACKED' were printed over an image of barbells on his shirt. Beneath that were a pair of shockingly short, denim shorts with frayed edges. Working for a start-up and being as big as he was, no one ever questioned his dress sense. Erick also had a pair of golden earrings piercing his left ear. There was a faint outline of a cut over his right eye that ran through his eyebrow and narrowly missed his eye itself and the fur never grew back.

“Because I wanted your expertise, Mr. SME," Joel growled back. He slammed his phone on the table and pushed it towards his friend. Then he grabbed the mango green tea with popping strawberry boba and took a sip from it. “So advise!"

Erick gave him an exasperated stare. “Couldn't you have taken this to the Council?"

The 'Council' was just the joking name that they gave to their group chat amongst the owners of JACKED. All six guys were there and it was where they shared information or just talked socially. Given that Erick and Dorian worked during the day when most of the others were either asleep after a long night of work or vice versa, it was a good way of staying connected.

“Everyone else is asleep." He straightened in the little metal chairs. How these things supported all of Erick's 300-plus pounds of weight was beyond him. “Also, you know everyone else would give me shit for not getting this guy a drink he likes. I'm the bartender, damnit!"

Erick had plucked the phone off the ground and was scrolling, likely perusing Shaw's profile. “And he is a a twenty-something guy who just got out of a three year relationship and doesn't like alcohol. You would be a goddamn miracle worker if you managed to take his boozy virginity in one night during Hank's sixth bachelor party."

“I've worked miracles before." He sipped the boba tea again and wondered if a fruity drink would be more to Shaw's liking. Last night, most of what he had the bear try were creamy and more chocolate-based. That key lime drink seemed to be a hit though.

“You should know that he is of Chinese descent and his traditional name is actually 'Xiao Feng'." Judging by how Erick was browsing his phone in one hand and rapidly typing on his laptop with the other, he was either able to glean more information from what little was on Shaw's profile or sweeping the web on his laptop while browsing the contents of Joel's phone. “I'm going to guess that because 'Xiao' kind of sounds law 'Shaw', he goes by Shaw because it more appealing to the American sensibilities."

That he did not know. “Second generation?" he asked.

“No. More like fifth or something. His parents are Christian and pretty hardcore at that. Might explain the lack of alcoholic preference."

“I thought Christians drink wine for holy communion or something."

“They drink piss and grape juice and you know it." Erick lifted his scarred eyebrow. “Looks like his parents were pretty accepting of his relationship with his ex. I see a lot of photos of them together."

Joel waved dismissively. “Great. His family life is fantastic. Is there anything about what kind of food he likes to eat? Anything about his favorite restaurants or anything?"

Erick gave him a warning stare. “Careful. You're bordering on stalker territory."

“We passed that a long time ago after you started trawling through his profile."

“I'm just going through what is publicly available. And for what it's worth, he seems to like Thai food. Good taste. Vietnamese is better but close second." Erick absently took a sip from his own boba tea. “Oh look. His gamer tag is the same as his ID on Howler."

Joel immediately sat up. “No. Erick. Don't you fucking dare!"

The wolf gave him a devilish grin. Erick made an exaggerated gesture of lifting his finger, angling it down towards his laptop and leveling it directly over the Enter Key. “I do this because I love you."

“No!" he shouted, trying to lunge for the laptop but was too late. Erick slammed the Enter key and before he knew it, a friend request was sent to the bear.

“Why!?" Joel demanded, forming claws with his fingers.

“Because you clearly like this guy. I've got to get to know him."

Sitting back up and with his arms crossed, Joel huffed. “I don't like him. In fact, on the spectrum of like and dislike, I'm in the 'Slightly Dislike'. He insulted my work!"

Erick stuck the thick straw of the boba tea into his muzzle while rolling his eyes. “Please, Vinnie makes way better cocktails than you. We all know it."

“Fuck you."

“Yeah, yeah, fuck you too, Rocky," Erick slammed his laptop shut and set a meaty arm over it. “Why are you even obsessed with this guy? I've seen you drop people for less!"

Joel crossed his arms defiantly, twisting his lips so that they favored the left side of his muzzle. Erick might as well have been a hacker. Once he found a bit of bait, he was going to scramble to get as much information as he could for nefarious reasons later down the line. Too much had already been revealed.

Time to change tactics.

“Fine," he snarled. “He was a fucking good lay, okay?" A few people around the restaurant overheard and flinched at his statement. Good. Despite everything, Erick loved to be the center of attention - in a good way - but when negative attention was hurled in his direction especially when it was caused by someone else, he grew uncomfortable. “I mean, he went two weeks without jacking off, man. It was because he was depressed, yeah, but when he unleashed, he unleashed. He used me like a fucking Tenga Egg."

Erick grimaced as the other patrons of the restaurant took pains to turn away from them. California was a very liberal state but there was still such a thing as common decency… at least that's what one would expect. “Okay. Okay. I get it."

“I mean," Joel pressed, just to drive the point home, “if you couldn't tell, I'm not sitting down on these hard ass seats. I'm actually just doing the most intense squat you've ever seen. Amos would be proud."

Now genuinely curious, Erick flicked his large, triangular ears forward and pushed his chair back, the metal groaning audibly against the concrete because of his weight. Then he bent down to peer under the table at Joel's lower half… only to see the bull's thick, erect…

… middle finger staring back at him.

Joel grinned the moment he heard the green-haired wolf sigh.

When Erick straightened, the most scathing, disappointed look was plastered on his face - eyes half-closed, lips pursed in a straight light and eyes half-glazed over. “Fuck you, Joel. Say whatever you want but your relationship with this guy hinges on me helping you. I've got your balls in my paws, not the other way around."

Joel bristled at the term 'relationship'. No one ever tamed this bull - something he constantly reiterated. Family often chastised him for being well into his forties and never having a 'stable' relationship. In contrast, Joel considered himself to have achieved such a relationship. Sex was even involved. It just so happens that the relationship was extremely non-traditional, with five other guys, none of them lived together and they weren't married.

Adding another man into the network would be difficult enough. Getting that man to wrap their head around the fact that Joel and the other owners of JACKED were probably crossing multiple lines in a traditional sense would just be a nightmare.

No. He was a good lay but this is a matter of professional pride.

“Fine, fine," he answered, channeling a little bit of Sam with his flowery words. “I am incredibly apologetic for treating our friendship and my request for your most illustrious of assistances in my current predicament."

That made Erick snort out a little of his boba, the mango juices dripping down his chin. He had to grab a tissue and wipe it away before it fell on his shirt. “A fuck. "

“Easy there." Joel snatched his phone back from Erick before any sweet mango juice could get on it. “How the hell do I respond to this guy after basically having ghosted him for several hours?"

Once he was properly cleaned, Erick took a bite from his sandwich, chewed it for a few seconds and then spoke through a muzzle full of pork, bread, pickled carrots and cilantro. “First admit that Vinnie makes better cocktails and bartending is just you trying to trying to be involved in the bar."

“My-shit, Erick," Joel responded jokingly. “If you're not going to help me, I'll go ask Amos."

The wolf gave him an offended smack of his lips and an exaggerated sigh. “I know you're manipulating me but you also know I'm not going to let that slide."

Mention anything between him and Amos and Erick's competitive side would immediately kick in. Everyone knew that if you needed one or the other to do anything, you just had to mention the opposite guy was up for it and then their rage-boner for one another would be so hard you could cut diamonds with it. It was all in good fun, after all. Though Joel was fairly sure those two were secretly keeping a tally of who was better than the other somewhere.

“Amos' solution would be to get him to the gym and shove a protein shake down his throat," continued Erick. “Have you considered that maybe he wouldn't like anything alcoholic."

“Not the point! I am going to find him his drink even if it's a goddamn milkshake from McDonald's!"

Erick lifted his Banh Mi to his muzzle and muttered something like, 'Sounds like you just want a second date'.

“What was that?" snarled Joel, leaning forward.

“I said, 'assuming the damn thing works'," lied the wolf through more of his sandwich. The grey furred titan had a hell of a poker face. It was only at their graduation did anyone ever learn what an amazing singing voice he had. They had known one another for three years at that point. “Anyway, if I were you, I'd reply with something like…"

Erick waved a meaty paw absently through the air and stopped to chew, prolonging the conversation. He even went so far as to reach for his own boba tea and took an agonizingly long slurp just to grate Joel's patience. The seconds where he swallowed had to be the longest part of the entire show.

“… Something like, 'Sorry. I fell asleep. Long night'." The wolf bobbed his head from side to side, the earrings he sported jingling softly with the movement. “Then be your usual smooth self and invite him over tonight so you can supposedly continue your quest to finding him his perfect drink."

“Tonight?" Joel scoffed. “Dude, that will make me sound desperate."

Still, it was good advice. So he quickly tapped out a short message to Shaw.

“Hey. Sorry. I fell asleep with my phone on. Didn't get much sleep last night."

He paused for a second just to let the minute tick by so that when he sent his next sentence, it would seem a little more spontaneous and not that he had spent the past few hours fretting over what he would say.

“You should know. ;)"

Again, he waited another few minutes. Shaw had yet to see his messages, however. That was fine.

“So since you didn't like what I brewed you, how about a second swing? Tomorrow evening? Same place?"

He set down the phone and smiled proudly at himself. “There," he announced. “All done. Now I can get on with the rest of my day and actually grab some sleep before tonight's shift."

“You do that," Erick answered dismissively. “Then I can get back to work."

Joel threw his head back and snorted back a laugh. “Right. When is Dorian coming over to suck your dick? Between what meetings?"

“It's going to be Killian this afternoon at four, thank you very much," answered the ever-organized wolf. “Just before he heads off to prepare his set for the bar." He waggled his eyebrows at Joel. “My bed is big enough for all three of us."

Somehow, he doubted that. Erick was pretty big and fitting three guys on it was dangerous especially for someone was energetic as Killian.

“I'll still be out," answered Joel, stretching and stifling back a yawn. “I was not joking when I said I barely got some sleep. Shaw was a twitcher."

“At least he didn't talk in his sleep," snickered the wolf. “I still can't believe that investment banker you slept with tried to pitch some sort of start up to you in his sleep!"

Joel shrugged. “Dude was dedicated to his work. Made for a good excuse to get him to suck my cock, though."

Blip-blip!

Howler was pinging him. It was always on and though he hated the idea of juggling multiple men at the same time, sometimes matches just happened. Only this match was a familiar one.

Shaw had answered.

“Well shit…" Joel snickered to himself, holding his phone out at arm's length.

“Is that him?" Erick asked.

“Yeah." He turned the phone to his friend. “Looks like I've got a date tomorrow evening after all."

Shaw

He texted back!

Shaw had fought the urge to curl up into his little cave of pillows and filthy blankets on his couch again after he had sent that last message to Joel. He thought he was being cute. Coy. Spontaneous. Honest. Everything that Liam had accused him of never being. But as the minutes turned to hours and Joel had left him on 'read', his heart was pounding until it began weeping.

The logical part of his brain told him that Joel had no obligation to answer whatsoever. He was being very obsessive and clingy to demand an immediate answer from a guy he had just slept with on a hook-up app and run out on in a hurry. But the primal part of him was desperate for validation.

It was only horror stories on Reddit concerning entitled people that kept him from sending a barrage of texts at the very attractive bull.

Somehow, he had managed to avoid spiraling and switched on his TV. Naturally, a slew of romance and relationship advice shows were thrown his way.

“Goddamn wiretap," he spat, shrouded in the dark of his apartment's lounge room. The curtains were drawn. He didn't remember when he had last opened them. Probably before he found Liam fucking some other guy. The door to his bedroom remained closed. He couldn't bear to be in there.

Clothes lay scattered all over the ground as well as some empty Chinese takeaway boxes. The smell had faded or rather, he had just gotten used to his own squalor and subsisting on the light coming from the TV. Seeing those suggested shows, however, made him grimace in disgust and switch on his Xbox just so that he could distract himself with something.

That worked for about three to four hours. Some of his online friends greeted him, knowing full well not to probe the subject of his break up. They didn't know him well enough to really be privy to that sort of information and they barely even noticed when he was offline for a few days immediately following 'the event'. Videogames had been his escape from the harsh reality of his situation and helped him ignore the messages coming from his phone.

That had sustained him for about two weeks, placing him in a state of stasis that kept the pain away so a few more hours wouldn't hurt him.

Until the friend request from one 'JACKED_Wolf_24' popped onto his screen.

“Huh…?" he asked himself aloud and popped open the request. His heart immediately went to his throat.

“Hey. Shaw Feng, right? My name is Erick. I'm a friend of Joel's."

Setting aside his biases for guys of Joel's age playing videogames, Shaw never thought the active bull would be the kind of person to have an online presence. A quick scan of this stranger's profile showed that this guy was a prolific gamer. Over a hundred hours in countless first-person-shooters, had a plethora of role playing games, 100% achievement scores on quite a few other games. He even went so far as leaving reviews on various games of all genres.

Curious, he accepted the request. A private chat immediately appeared shortly afterwards.

“Thanks for accepting, dude. I know it comes out of the blue but I thought I should tell you, I'm having lunch with Joel right now."

He was out with friends instead of replying to his message. The fact that this Erick knew about him meant that he was gossiping about their encounter.

The horrible encounter with a below-average guy that ran out of his apartment like a cub…

“That's nice," Shaw replied quickly. “What are you having?"

“Vietnamese. Pork Banh Mi. He's just having some boba. Anyway, just wanted to let you know he isn't ignoring you. He's actually a little flustered because he's left you on read for a couple of hours and was kind of insulted that you didn't like the drinks he made."

He knew it. He had said the wrong thing. Bad enough that he not only got black-out drunk, crashed at the guy's place and basically used him followed by running out on him, he had to top it all off by questioning the guy's professional aptitude.

“I didn't mean to insult him," Shaw sent quickly. “It's my problem. I just don't like alcohol. I really appreciated that he tried."

“For the love of god, do not back down," answered Erick. “It's funny seeing him like this. He is a careless jackass but I love him."

Erick paused for a second, leaving Shaw a few seconds to think. It seemed like he got a modicum of approval from at least one of Shaw's friends.

“Listen, he'll probably ask you out on a second date," continued the stranger. “I know it's a lot to go on from a hook up but he really is a nice guy. Please consider saying 'yes'."

Clearly Joel had some friends that really cared for him… or a really talented hacker.

“I'll think about it."

“Tks," Erick responded and then promptly logged off.

That left Shaw in the dark of his apartment at around noon feeling a little conflicted. Butterflies were swarming in his stomach but there were two warring tribes amongst them. One faction was absolutely excited at the idea of being asked out on a second date with Joel Rockham. The other faction was terrified that such a date would reveal just how much more of a hot mess he was to the bull.

All of this fighting came out as a girlish giggle. Suddenly feeling emasculated, he coughed, purposefully lowered his voice and let out a gruff, 'Ha-ha'. That didn't feel right and the butterflies rebelled so he gave into the feeling. He dropped his controller, brought both his paws to his muzzle, giggled like a mad clown and kicked his legs out like he was riding the world's smallest bicycle. The motion and momentum left him unbalanced and he tipped to his side and crashed into his couch with a soft thud. He didn't mind and just let himself experience his giddy moment of potentially being asked out by a hot guy.

Again.

…

Then anxiety came knocking at his door… again.

What was he going to wear? What were they going to do? Was he going to drink again and how many brain cells was he going to lose for the effort? Was he going to make a fool of himself again and ravage Joel while not remembering a single second of it? What did it say about their relationship was built on the foundation of missed messages and drunken missteps?

Blip-blip.

That was Howler.

Shaw stumbled over himself to snatch his phone from where it rested. Sure enough, there was Joel's message waiting for him.

“Hey. Sorry. I fell asleep with my phone on. Didn't get much sleep last night."

And lies. Their relationship was built on the foundation of missed messages, drunken missteps and lies.

Then again, was this even a relationship? They went out on one date. In fact, it wasn't even a date. It was a hook-up at a bar that he owned.

No. The hook-up happened at his apartment after the bar.

He got me drunk before that.

… and fed me… and listened to me… and genuinely looked after me.

Shaw embraced himself and squirmed, a goofy smile on his muzzle.

Blip-blip!

He didn't even realize that he had been mulling over the message for a whole minute. Thankfully, he had read receipts turned off so even though he had the app open and had read Joel's message, the bovine bartender with the gorgeous, amber-colored eyes would not be notified that he had read anything until he physically replied.

“You should know. ;)"

Shaw's temperature immediately rose and his cheeks were on fire with embarrassment. There was a part of him that wanted to demand an itemized list of everything he did to the bull and then the other reminded him that he should never have anything that incriminating in writing.

“How am I supposed to respond to that!?" he bellowed, slapping his phone screen with the back of his paw. “It's been four goddamn hours and the first thing you tell me is I deprived you of sleep because I fucked you that good!?" Gripping his phone in both paws, he shook it wildly. “Just ask me out already!"

Blip-blip!

“So since you didn't like what I brewed you, how about a second swing? Tomorrow evening? Same time? Same place?"

“Thank you!" Shaw shouted, slumping back into his couch grumpily. With a sigh, tapped out a reply.

“Tomorrow sounds good. I promise that I will be more open-minded about the drinks you serve me and give honest feedback at the time. I admit I was a little flustered and none of the drinks you gave me were bad. Just not something I would actively go hunting for it I saw them on a menu."

He had hit send before he could even considering how apologetic and how much of an essay it was. Scrambling, he quickly added…

“I look forward to how you rise up to the challenge off finding my drink."

Instant regret hit him the moment he hid send.

“Fuck!" he shouted, slumping into his bed. “That sounded like I'm his goddamn manager in a global investment firm!"

Blip-blip!

“Sweet. See you tomorrow. Stay hydrated. Hangovers are a bitch."

And that was it.

He suddenly had a date Saturday night. A full-body blush crept in and his muzzle wasn't sure whether or not it wanted to smile, frown or scream so his lips did the oral equivalent of the Worm and twisted up and down like it was emulating a sine wave on the X-Axis.

His heart felt full, warm and buzzing. It took him a whole five minutes to realize that was actually because he was holding his phone - screen on - against his chest.

Shaw peeled himself from his makeshift bed and, for the first time ever, he tossed aside the blanket that he had been using to offer some modicum of warmth while he slept and to hide him from the outside world.

“Okay, okay…" he said to himself, heart still pumping wildly in his chest. “I've got a little under two days to prepare. I can do this."

A soft ping hit his ears and he swiveled them towards his TV and console. Erick was back online.

“How did it go?" asked the mysterious friend of Joel's.

“Good," Shaw answered guardedly. “We're going to meet up at JACKED Bar tomorrow. Do you know it?"

“I should. I'm a co-owner."

Shaw pulled his head back in surprise. “Co-owner?"

“You didn't know? JACKED is owned by six guys. Joel, me and four others. This first letters of our name form the name of the bar."

Looking back now, he did recall Joel mentioning that he owned JACKED with some 'other guys' but he had been so drunk at that point that he was genuinely surprised he remembered anything at all. Owning an establishment with six other people must have involved a lot of trust and organization.

“How does that work, if you don't mind me asking?"

Erick went on to explain that he and Dorian - the E and D in JACKED - looking after the 'day shift'. Dorian looked after stock and deliveries, making sure that the pantries, refrigerators and bar itself was fully stocked. He also ran general maintenance. Erick, meanwhile, looked after the social media presence of the bar and everything about the website.

Joel was the head bartender, as he already knew. Amos was the bouncer and night handyman. Cash was the main financial backer and worked in the kitchen. Killian was the otter DJ and marketing specialist who hyped up the bar with all of his contacts. Together, they made up about half of the staff working at JACKED and, thus far, they had been very successful.

“_JACKED _is really my side gig," confessed Erick. “I work during the day on a start up and let the other guys run the place at night."

“Wow. Do you get time to visit the bar?"

“Of course. In fact, I'm planning to visit it tonight. Why don't you stop by? I can introduce you to the rest of the guys."

That was a big step. From hook up to immediately meeting Joel's friends. Then again, this was not really meeting his friends… more like meeting the owners of the bar whose bartender had gotten him incredibly inebriated and were just going to make sure they were all cool and no one was going to sue.

Yeah. That's it.

“Sure. Is Joel going to be there?"

“Maybe. But I can run interference if you don't want to see him before your hot date. We don't have any unusual events tonight but there are blind spots where he can't see you from the bar."

The idea of spying the hot, bull bartender from somewhere in the bar without him knowing tickled something in Shaw but he shook his head. Drama was the last thing he needed right now.

“I won't do that to him. If he's there, I'll say hi. But I'm there to meet the guys who own an amazing gay bar."

“Flattery will get you everywhere, hon. Anyway. See you tonight, okay? Dress fraternity."

'Dress fraternity'? What did that mean? Was that even grammatically correct? Gamers abbreviated and would be the last people in the world to use correct punctuation and sentence structure but why would anyone say 'dress fraternity'?

Before he could ask what he meant, JACKED_Wolf_24 sighed off.

Then it hit him.

“Oooh… 'JACKED' Wolf. I get it now."

?

?

Joel

Joel hadn't been completely honest when he said that he would be 'out' until it was opening time for JACKED. Though he had implied that he would be asleep, he actually meant that he would be out of his apartment and running around town.

Particularly that he would be visiting Golden Cliff Hospital.

A full bouquet of flowers in his hands and dressed in a modest gray suit, black tie, slacks and dress shoes, he headed through the sliding doors of the hospital and straight up to the third floor. He took the stairs mostly because the elevators were packed and secondly because he wanted to milk every second to brace himself for the inevitable meeting.

A familiar, leopard met him at the receptionist and she gave him a pitying smile.

“He's awake today, Mr. Rockham," she said gently. “He actually ate today."

“That's good," Joel managed to croak out. “How's his… mood?"

Her eyebrows knitted together, almost meeting at the middle. She opened her lips that had a light, rosy lipstick applied but she quickly snapped it shut. “Same as always."

“Okay," was all he managed and turned to head down the hallway.

Hospitals were synonymous with death and injury. Even though they had known him for years, Amos still gave everyone at JACKED a heart attack whenever any of them got a call that the big dragon had somehow injured himself. Despite being the biggest and the leanest, the bodybuilding dragon was a constant hazard to himself simply because of his competitive streak. The number of times Joel had to wake up in the middle of the morning because Amos had decided to go to the gym after a long night of work and, in his sleep-deprived state, had done something extremely stupid was too numerous to count.

One of the reasons the JACKED guys got so fit was because they had all unanimously agreed never to let Amos workout on his own.

But Amos was not the only reason Joel hated hospitals.

The other reason lay in Room 322 of Golden Cliff Hospital.

Bartholomew Rockham.

Joel's 73-year-old dad currently dying of lung cancer.

“Hey, dad," he greeted, stepping into the private ward.

Bart Rockham was a frail ghost of his former self. Once a tank of a man who served in the military, he had been a towering beast that probably would have found a place in JACKED if he wasn't such a homophobic, chain-smoking, misogynistic asshole. Now, he was a withered man whose brown fur growing back in patches from the chemotherapy. Each of his limbs was barely as wide as his wrist. The hospital gown looked like it was wearing him and his cheeks were so sunken into his muzzle, it was almost possible to see the full outline of his skull. His once proud horns had to be filed down to mere nubs because his neck could no longer support the extra weight. Glazed, brown eyes that were milky shifted over to look at him.

“That you, boy?" coughed the man that had raised Joel with a firm hand and the crack of a belt.

“Yeah, dad. It's me. Hey."

Bart's lips peeled back into a snarl, showing yellowed teeth worn down from years of smoking. “What did I tell you about speaking properly, boy? Hay is for horses. We say 'Yes'."

A mantra that he had grown up with. Speak properly. Stand up straight. Work hard. Fuck a woman. Pump out a kid. Get a house.

“I brought you flowers," Joel said, bringing the bouquet over to the lonely vase that sat beside the much older bull's bed. “Tulips. Mom's favorites."

Bart's features softened and he sank into his bed. “Ah… Chelsie. She was a good woman."

Chelsie Rockham had died about a decade earlier due to her own struggle with lung cancer. In a way, there was something poetic about his parents going out in the same way. Only memories of her could ever soothe Bart's perpetually scathing view of the world.

“You stop stripping yet, boy?" scowled Bart.

And here we go…

“Yes dad," he replied, refusing to sit down. If he sat down, he would have to spend more time and effort to leave. “I opened my own business, remember?"

“That bar?" Bart looked like he was going to snort and spit but there was no saliva left in his throat. “You still fucking men?"

“I'm still gay, dad."

The old bull snorted and turned his head away. “You're not going to carry on the Rockham name like that. Stop fucking your coworkers, find a woman and pass on your genes. I didn't have you just so you could keep dragging out this phase like a really good cigarette."

Though Bart Rockham may be weak, his eyes were still incredibly sharp as was his mind. The instant Joel did something like tighten his hands into fists, roll his eyes or even tense his jaw a little, Bart would know. It was the one superpower of his that Joel admired and might have picked up on. Being incredibly observant helped him as a bartender… most times.

The best thing he could do was to change the subject.

“So the nurses told me you were eating. That's good news. Are you feeling better?"

“I feel like shit," scowled Bart. “I'm dying, goddamnit." He turned his head back towards Joel. “But I'm not dying until you give me a grandson."

Instead of anger, Joel just felt a wave of exhaustion hit him. A whole year of this had worn his patience thin but this was still his father. Someone who had killed himself fighting off four different divorces and raising a rebellious son that was into rock and roll, showed no interest in traditionally masculine activities like football or baseball and liked rainbows a lot.

Of course, at the time, Joel's lack of interest in sports could be attributed to a level of ADHD. A young bull had bounced between so many extracurricular activities but never stuck with any of them. But someone like Bartholomew Rockham would never even consider that his son thought differently to other people. No. As a man, he just needed to toughen up and needed discipline.

Then Joel found religion.

The Church of Sucking Dick.

Joel smirked at himself for that little interior comment but immediately straightened his features after he realized that that small gesture was very much external. His father's burning, accusatory gaze was a testament's to the man's supernatural ability to observe everything around him.

“What's so funny, boy?" spat the old man. Joel could swear he could see yellowed enamel flying from his father's spittle.

“Just thinking about something funny one of the guys I'm sleeping with told me over drinks the other night."

Bart scowled at him and turned away again. Over the past few months, this back and forth had started to tip in Joel's favor. His father had stopped chastising him for his way of life and cursing him out as a 'waste of time, money and seed'. Joel was relieved that the barrage of disparaging homophobic remarks was finally on the decline but he also recognized the reason for this; his dad was dying and he was losing the will to fight.

It was hilarious how a man who constantly touted traditional family values had been divorced four times and only had one kid who turned out so gay that he was currently in a nebulous relationship with five other guys. Possibly a sixth on the way.

Thinking of Shaw, Joel decided to take a stab at finding something to cheer up his father. “I met this guy last night."

“I don't want to hear about where your dick went in some other guy's body," scowled Bart.

“He's different. He doesn't drink alcohol." There was the faintest twitch in his father's left ear so he knew he was on the right path. “He comes from an Asian family so he's kind of… traditional. Kind of. Disciplined." Dropping buzzwords he knew his dad would be interested was the key here. “Now I'm not saying anything is on the horizon but it got me thinking that there are other ways to have kids, you know? We could adopt. Find a surrogate."

“Get a surrogate," his dad barked. “You don't want another man's trash. Besides, you might actually like fucking a broad."

He was fairly sure Bart Rockham had no idea that surrogacy didn't actually involve having sex with the surrogate but he let that slide.

“It's still early though. Like I said, I just met him last night. We're going on a date tomorrow." He laughed softly at himself and bobbed his head from side to side. “Well… It's not really a date. I'm just inviting him to my bar where I'm going to see if I can find him the drink he likes."

“Just like you," scoffed Bart, surprising Joel.

“Pardon?"

The piercing stare of the old bull tore into Joel; a razor that stripped Joel of his fur, skin and organs until he could feel the blade scraping against his very bones.

“Just like you to corrupt a good straight kid into your deviant behavior. He doesn't drink so the first thing you do is get him drunk." Bart's voice was dripping with acidic sarcasm. “Congratulations on another notch on your fucking belt."

“Now hold on," Joel said, fighting hard not to raise his voice. “It is nothing like that. Shaw is -"

“Shaw?" Bart barked a hoarse laugh. “What kind of name is that? Bet he's got nothing between his legs. What was her real name? Shawlene or something?"

“That's not even a real name!"

Bart waved him away, again turning to gaze out the window. “How the fuck should I know what those fucking ching-chong assholes name their cubs? They don't even write properly. Their shit is all fucking scribbles."

There was a limit to his father's racism, homophobia and overall abrasive nature that he could take. He was almost there but not quite. Not yet. He had just a little bit more in him before he would be guilt-free for another week.

Taking a mental deep breath, he straightened his chest and said, “The bar's profits are through the roof. We're even talking about putting a second level and changing the layout. I could use your advice since you worked construction."

After the military, Bart had used his incredible mass and muscles to work various construction jobs around Golden Cliff. With the lucrative pay, he eventually opened his own construction company. Naturally, he only hired men because 'construction is a man's job'. The irony and contrast between Bart and Joel's employment situations was completely lost on the elder bull.

It was through his various projects that Bart had managed to pay for Joel's education all the way up to high school and four divorces. After high school, Joel came out as gay and was promptly kicked out. Thankfully, Joel had a tough time for a while until he eventually started stripping and getting into porn. None of which his father approved. They would have remained estranged if Chelsie Rockham hadn't requested his presence as she was dying of lung cancer.

“My advice?" coughed Bart. “Tear the whole fucking thing down. No establishment run be a bunch of faggots should be standing and taking money from good, hard working Americans."

And that was the limit.

Insult him, berate him and even whip him with a belt - Joel was kind of into that - but no one ever insults his friends and lovers at JACKED.

“And that's enough for this week!" Joel exclaimed with false but irritatingly saccharine cheerfulness. He bent down, gave his father the lightest of hugs and even a mocking kiss on the forehead and then straightened to leave before Bart could swat him away. “See you next time, dad!"

“Bring a baby next time, boy!"

Yeah yeah, fuck you too, dad.

Then he was out the door, undoing his tie and removing the jacket from his shoulders before he was even off the third floor. By the time he was back to his car - a deep blue muscle car with a matte finish - he was fishing out his phone and checking the time. He called the first person on his contact list - Amos because the dragon was up there alphabetically.

“Hey, brrrrrooooooo," he greeted, making sure to draw out the 'bro' and lower the pitch of his voice.

“Braaaaaah!" greeted Amos happily. “When are you getting here? We need help setting up the games."

“Just finishing up with my old man. Be there in about twenty. Don't start the party without me."

“Of fucking course not! Dude, this is the one night in the month where you get to steal the spotlight from Killian!"

Joel grinned from ear to ear as he started the engine of his car, absolutely loving the low rumble and purr of the engine. “And he absolutely hates me for it," he howled happily. “Alright, check ya in a bit, bro! Be there in a jiffy!"

“Hang on. Give me a sec…" There was a bit of shuffling on the other side of the phone, making Joel quirk an eyebrow in curiosity.

“We'll see you in a bit," Amos began.

Then…

… four other voices joined him, drawing out the single syllable word for as long as possible.

“Brrrroooooooooo!"

Joel laughed, making sure the boys heard him and then hung up. Shaking his head as he drove out of the parking lot, he glanced towards the horizon with a bright grin on his face.

“God, I love you guys."

?

?

?

Shaw

“It's Fratboy Friday!"

JACKED was packed full of people with balloons, streamers and red solo cups everywhere. Men - and some women - dressed in a typical college dorm attire were pressed up against one another, listening to the music and cheering on as games of beer pong, flip cup, a giant Jenga set and even some tables set up for Cards Against Sanity were set up all over the bar. With more space taken up by these games, space was a commodity.

So Shaw had a very clear view of what Erick had meant when he said 'dress fraternity'.

He had meant to 'dress like a drunked frat boy'.

Suddenly, he felt very overdressed.

Though he had gone to college and had joined a fraternity, Beta Iota Rho was a very academic fraternity. It consisted of like-minded students in the marketing and business space who bonded together, worked on projects together and shared notes and experiences. Fraternity parties - while present - were rare and most of his time was spent studying with his brothers making sure they kept their grades up.

So Shaw's definition of 'dress fraternity' was a neat salmon pink collared shirt, khaki pants and white tennis shoes. Not the tank tops, shorts, sandals and backwards baseball caps he saw everywhere. Some people were even running around without shirts though they would have various Greek letters drawn on their chests using luminescent paint so in the dim flashing lights of the bar, the letters of their favorite frat shone.

I don't belong here, Shaw mourned quietly.

As he was about to turn and leave, however, the organism that was the crowd at JACKED closed in on him. Hot bodies of various males pressed in on him and seemed to undulate and gyrate. Muscles pushed him deeper and deeper into the establishment, particularly toward the bar where, much to his horror, Joel was working.

His throat closed in on itself as an elbow was pushed against his spine. A pair of pectorals brushed against his chest. A cock compressed in some basketball shorts rubbed against his leg and a tail brushed against his own crotch. But throughout it all, he couldn't take his eyes off the beautiful bull dancing to the music, a backwards baseball cap sitting between his horns and a tuft of blond hair jutting out as a forelock.

Joel was completely shirtless and had the letters 'DNK' drawn on his massive, chiseled chest. A necklace with some glow sticks were wrapped around his neck as well as some hanging from his wrists so whenever he moved to perform some alcoholic acrobatics, he traced mesmerizing lines through the air.

Dancing completely in sync with the music, the bull had a bottle of some sort of beer in his hands. Joel placed himself in profile to the bar and began marching robotically towards the other bartender; Shaw recalled him being named Vinnie or something. The fox - dressed in an apron and seemingly nothing else - performed the same motion towards him. As soon as they met at the center of the bar, they lifted their bottles towards one another, tilting their heads towards one another. They poured the contents of the bottles down each other's throat in perfect synchronization but without swallowing. Instead, their cheeks full of the booze, they turned towards the crowd and sprayed it all over them.

Never mind the hygiene concerns, the patrons loved it.

Shaw had to admit that he was both curious and utterly hypnotized by those movements to the point that he never realized that he was almost at the bar.

“No, no, no, no!" he squeaked, trying to push himself away and retreat towards the entrance. He was not ready to meet Joel and make a total embarrassment of himself by looking like he came out of a tennis match at the country club.

Joel's head began to turn and his heart froze up, his stomach turning to ice and his brain shutting off like one of those old CTR TVs complete with the sound of the device powering down and the soft fizzle of departing electrons.

A firm hand grabbed his shoulder and suddenly yanked him away from the the bar. His vision of Joel was completely blocked by a woman dressed in a tube top being hefted on the shoulders of two guys who were clearly a couple. If he couldn't see the bull, he doubted the bull could see him.

He then turned towards his rescuer and found himself in the presence of possibly the biggest pair of pectorals he had ever seen. They had the letters for Beta-Iota-Gamma on them in bright, green, fluorescent paint, were covered in white fur and sat atop a big belly that had the clear outline of abdominal muscles poking through them.

“Hey!" bellowed the towering six-foot tall wolf who sported this intimidating physique. “Shaw, right?"

Shaw lifted his gaze towards the man's face and had to adjust his glasses because he as tiling his head back that far. “Uhm… Erick?"

The lupine beamed at him before flexing an immense, thick bicep. “Yep! That's me! Welcome back to JACKED!" The wolf clapped a huge paw on Shaw's back and in doing so, turned him to face three other guys who were standing around a table. “Meet the other guys!"

Shaw found himself shrinking in the presence of these titanic, intimidating, handsome men who looked like they had been carved from marble and by the hands of the most skilled artists.

Besides Erick, there was the towering bouncer, the red dragon that Shaw had deduced was named Amos. Like the other guys, he was completely shirtless and had the letters for Delta-Iota-Kappa on his chest in blue paint. Amos had some of those glow sticks hanging from his horns and the tips of his wings. Those two made a sort of cage, standing on either side of Shaw and boxing him in and forcing him to face the two strangers.

One was that lion that had served him his food yesterday, Cash. Without that strange apron with the plastic window on it, Cash was now dressed in a bright pint tank top and matching denim shorts. Likely so he didn't ruin his shirt, there were letters on his chest.

The last person Erick didn't recognize. A stocky shark that was just a little taller than Shaw but probably three times as thick. The man's suspiciously smooth-looking gray skin was stretched taut by his immense muscles. Surprisingly, he was quite hirsute for a traditionally sea-faring species. Thick, light brown, almost blond hairs grew on his immense forearms and between him and Cash, he had the thickest bush of chest hair that poked out of his black tank top's neckline. Unlike the other men, he had gone more for the 'surfer bro' look and had a necklace of sea shells hanging from his thick neck and had a Hawaiian shirt over his tank top with beach shorts. His bright green eyes were friendly and he was clearly wearing a pair of dentures over his normal rows of sharp teeth to be less intimidating. He came from the subspecies of sharks whose fin grew directly from the back of his head and he had a pair of long, elf-like ears poking out from underneath a curly mop of brown hair.

Catching his gaze, the fish held out a hand. “Yo! My name is Dorian. Dorian Sloan. Pleased to meet you."

Shaw, unable to do anything else, reached over and shook the man's hand. He was surprised at the gentle grip that Dorian had.

“You already know Cash and Amos," Erick said, catalyzing Shaw to shake both the lion and dragon's hands. “And I'm Erick. We're four of the six owners of JACKED."

“Nice to meet you all," he squeaked. Then turning towards Erick with a wavering smile. “I thought you said you didn't have any big events today?"

The other three guys gave the wolf an expectant stare to which the gray wolf just offered a bright grin.

“No. I said we don't have any unusual events." Seeing his confusion, Erick swept up one of the beers sitting on the table and thrust it into the air. “This is Fratboy Friday!"

A chorus of 'Fratboy Friday' echoed throughout the bar.

“Is this a usual thing?" Shaw asked, realizing the trap he had fallen into.

“Every third Friday of the month," replied Dorian with a shake of his head and a little expectant smile thrown at Erick. “Golden Cliff has a couple of colleges around these parts and we're a little bit of a Spring Break destination. It was Killian's idea to kick off Fratboy Fridays. Not only so we can catch the Spring Break crowd but also so we can get some of the college kids to be regulars even after they graduate."

Cash nudged the shark a little. “Don't give him all the credit. Killian came up with the idea but you were the one that made it a reality." The lion nodded towards the bar. “Hell, you were even the one that started reaching out to people to start the merch. Our Fratboy Friday shirts, caps and shorts always sell."

The bar even had its own merchandise. That was surprising. Then again, with so little experience drinking, Shaw wasn't sure what was normal for a bar. He just knew that selling branded shirts among other things proved that JACKED was making money and had a great name attached to it.

“If it wasn't already obvious each of the owners has their role in JACKED," rumbled Amos. “I watch the door. Cash has the kitchen. Joel works the bar. Killian is the DJ." He grinned, flashing a golden tooth and gestured at Erick and Dorian. “These two usually don't come out at night."

Throwing Erick a questioning look, the wolf reminded Shaw how Dorian handled the deliveries and maintenance while the big wolf took care of the websites and the social media presence during the day. They all contributed to the finances and managing the club and, together, they formed a sort of 'Council'.

“No decision in the Council ever gets actioned unless there is a unanimous decision from all the members," Erick said proudly.

“And if there are any dissenters, they can get fucked!" laughed Cash, hoisting his beer. The JACKED owners let out a cry of acknowledgment and toasted their beer cans.

Shaw tilted his head to the side in confusion. “How do you keep the peace and work so well with each other if anyone that dissents gets vetoed?"

Erick gave him this coy smile, a smile that was mirrored on the other guys.

“Oh, we meant that they can 'get fucked' quite literally," answered the wolf.

The innuendo went completely over Shaw's head. “I don't understand."

“Sex, little cola!" roared Amos, laughing loudly. “We suck each other's dick until we all all come to an agreement or just come!"

Shaw's jaw dropped in shock and the men all let out a rippling laugh at his reaction. The cogs in his brain was trying to process how six guys somehow managed to run a successful business on the premise of sex with one another. Then they hit a jam when he realized one of those guys was Joel - the guy he was sort-of-kind-of-hoping-to-date.

“I think you broke him," chuckled Dorian. “Don't worry, man. We're all clean. We're safe and we're one-hundred percent about consent."

“We're enlightened," bragged Erick, looking smug. “Congress could solve so much problems if they just got fucked!"

“No politics!" snapped the shark. Turning back to Erick with a reassuring smile, he said, “I know it's weird but we're all very careful. Yeah, we sleep around with other guys. No rings on these fingers."

Dorian held up the back of his hand and wiggled it, showing there were no wedding bands or engagement rings present. The other members of JACKED did the same, even going so far as the wiggle their fingers so close to one another like they were showing off their latest manicures in what had to be the most homosexual act he had seen from these incredibly masculine guys yet.

“But we're aware that anything we do will affect the rest of the guys," continued the shark with a bright smile. “So we're always conscious about who we sleep with and what we do."

“You mean who we do!" howled Erick, tipping his head back and letting out a genuine wolf howl. “Where my moon brothers at!?"

He got quite a few howls back in return.

“Wow…" Shaw mumbled softly, a little bit of a jealous smile on his muzzle. “You guys are really close, huh?"

A beer can was suddenly shoved into his paws courtesy of Amos. He held it out at arms length, closed one eye and popped the cap. A chuckle ran throughout the group, making him feel a little more self-conscious. His eyes dropped, unable to meet their gaze and found himself staring at the frothy brew.

If I squint, it's just like any soda.

Like Coke or Sprite…

He gingerly held the can in both paws, puckered his lips, brought it towards his muzzle…

… and suddenly became aware that the other guys were staring at him.

“Come on!" exclaimed Cash, his phone out. “Don't stop now!"

“Huh?" he asked, ears perked.

“We share everything with one another," explained Amos, taking out his own phone. “So naturally, Joel shared this absolutely adorable picture of you drinking your first martini." The crimson dragon turned his phone to Shaw who immediately saw that absolutely embarrassing still image of the timid bear taking his first tentative sips.

Now Shaw's whole face turned as red as Amos' entire body.

“Don't make fun of the kid," Erick playfully snarled, slapping Amos' phone away gently. “In fact, you know what?" The big wolf held up his own phone in selfie mode and his own beer can. Angling his phone so that he caught Shaw in it as well, he said, “Come on, Shaw. Let's do it together. Sip selfie!"

A smile crawled onto Shaw's muzzle. Feeling included, drawn in by a group of friends… it was entirely different from what he had with Liam. That smile actually made it a little hard to pucker his lips but he somehow managed to do it and Erick took the picture.

“Wait!" Erick exclaimed. “We did it wrong. We actually have to sip it afterwards!"

“Really?" Shaw grimaced. “I don't -"

“Yeah, you don't drink and to be honest, beer tastes like piss but come on." Erick thrust his beer into the air again. “It's Fratboy Friday!"

Again, there was a chorus of 'Fratboy Friday' all throughout the bar. Expectant stares came from the guys at him and Shaw lifted his paws a little, unable to keep the smile from his muzzle.

“Fratboy Friday," he whimpered weakly despite his smile that was quickly evolving into a grin.

Then, both he and Erick took another selfie, this time with the tall wolf talking the picture from higher up because apparently it helped the composition. When his phone did that 'click-click' of a taking a photo, Shaw did take a sip form the beer itself. He gagged and stuck out his tongue.

“Urgh… is it meant to taste so… bitter?"

“Not really," Erick sighed. “This is the cheap stuff. We've got to make a profit, you know."

“Me next!" exclaimed Amos, bounding over to Shaw and flexing one of his arms. “Come on, little cola. Make it look lit look like you're hanging from my 'ceps while we do a sip selfie."

Shaw couldn't help but laugh. “Really?" he asked despite already wrapping one paw against Amos' enormous bicep and pretending to climb it while his other paw was already angling the beer towards him.

“That's the spirit!" exclaimed Erick, positioning himself to take the best angle of the photo. “Hold… and… Got it!"

Click-click.

Again, he took another sip and again he was hit by the strong bitterness of the beer and the stinging tang of the alcohol. It made him gag though he held back most of it when Cash decided to take his turn. On Erick's insistence, they stood back to back with the DJ booth in the backdrop. Clearly, the wolf was a bit of a shutterbug. Another photo taken, another sip but before he could even get the taste to linger on his tongue, Dorian was taking his turn.

“Sip selfie!" exclaimed the shark and that was quickly followed by a click-click from Erick.

Shaw was glad that was the last of the guys…

… until the set ended and a tall, lean otter came bounding over. Shirtless, lean and looking like he was covered in a thin film of transparent latex, the lutrine who had to be Killian was about 5'11'' and was fairly fit without having the incredible definition of Amos or the sheer bulk of Erick. When seen from a distance and fully clothed, he would have looked quite average but up close, Shaw realized he was much bigger than he appeared. He had the look of an underwear model - lean and muscular enough to be considered stunningly handsome but not at all intimidating.

“Puta madre," exclaimed the otter with perfect, eloquent Spanish with the intonation of a native speaker. In the same breath, he switched to smooth, buttery America English with a southern twang. “That was a hard set! I am puuuumped!" He flexed, showing off the letters for 'Rho-Tau-Psi' across his torso with Rho on his right bicep, Tau on his chest and Psi on his left bicep.

Killian's bright, blue eyes fell on Shaw. “Awww, who's the cola?"

“This is Shaw," Erick said, gesturing at the polar bear.

The otter's features brightened as he moved around the group and held out his webbed paw towards Shaw. “So you're the one that Joel was a total an idiota to? Set you up to meet here and totally forgot about Hank's quinceanera."

“It was a bachelor party," Erick corrected.

Killian rolled his eyes and his whole head along with it to give Erick a deadpan look. “Bitch, did you see the drinks he was serving? That ho had more pink in this place that it would've put the inside of a Kardashian's vagina look tame!"

“Which ones?"

“They're all insufferable," answered Killian, giving Erick a limp-wristed wave. “Anyway…" He beamed at Shaw and finally shook his paw. “Come here, hon! Give me a hug!"

Shaw had no say in the matter as as he was suddenly and unceremoniously pulled into a hug. More than a hug, though. Killian lifted him off the ground enough that his feet were left dangling and he was actually raised high enough to see the bar at full. He briefly caught a glimpse of Joel before he was set back down.

“Easy there, bud," Amos rumbled, pulling Shaw protectively away from the enthusiastic otter. “He's here incognito. Joel doesn't know he's here."

“Ooooooh," squealed Killian, leaning against the table. “Hit me up with a cold one and give me the sitch on all the drama." He waggled his eyebrows at Shaw. “Why are you hiding from our bull bartender? Did he do that thing where he ate your ass out but because of how freakishly long and strong his tongue is, he managed to somehow massage your prostate with it and he made you cum?" Killian lifted his paw. “I like it. I know Dorian does too. Someone things it's strange."

Erick pouted, pushing out his lower lip in defiance. “I never said I didn't enjoy it. I just generally don't like the idea of eating ass in general."

“Unless you clean yourself out properly right?" countered Killian. “Now what was it that he did at your last birthday where he pumped your ass full of vodka and then -"

Splash!

Lightning fast, Erick had thrown the contents of his beer right into Killian's face and the otter let out a girlish squeal.

“Hijo de puta!" cried Killian, leaping back. “I've got another set in a few minutes!"

“Guess I'll just have to clean you up then, won't I?" rumbled Erick with that mischievous look in his eyes. Again with speed that belied his size, Erick scooped up Killian who let out another girlish squeal. Then, right in front of everyone, Erick began using his long, lupine tongue to lick and slurp the booze right off Killian's neck and cheeks. The otter's protests quickly turned to soft giggles and barely stifled moans.

“Jodete, Erick," he mumbled. “Fine! I forgive you!"

Erick persisted his licks for a few more seconds, even proceeding to suckle on Killian's neck for a few moments under the pretense of draining the beer from his short, brownish-black fur before setting him down. There was a glisten of something in their eyes. The casual observe would see it simply as an invitation for something more later but when Shaw glanced over to the rest of the JACKED crew, he could tell that there was something else beneath it all.

Genuine affection.

Did Liam ever give me that look…?

Better question… did I ever give him that look?

“Before you go to your next set," Cash said, holding up his phone. “We're doing this new thing with Shaw. Calling it the 'sip selfie'. Check it out." The lion showed the photos that Erick had somehow already managed to share amongst the group.

There was a hard, calculation look on Killian's face as he regarded the pictures. “This is great," he said. His voice was full of energy and seemed genuinely enthusiastic but his gaze was cold and analytical. “Let's get more people on this. You guys go prompting these sip selfies with people. Erick, why don't you start some buzz on social media. Maybe we can start a competition or something saying the best sip selfie gets some free merch."

Shaw tilted his head in puzzlement at the sudden change in Killian's features. Amos leaned down towards him and pulled him away from the other four guys who were suddenly in business mode.

“Killian is our marketing guru," explained the big dragon. “He sees opportunities everywhere to promote our brand."

Recalling Dorian's earlier explanation about the merchandising of the bar, it made sense. From what he could overhear from the conversation, Killian threw some ideas and Dorian refined them into actual doable actions and possibility. These guys worked like a well-oiled machine.

And I might just be the idiot that will stall that machine if I get too involved…

“Sip selfie!" exclaimed Killian, pulling Shaw together so that their cheeks were pressed against one another. “Hey, Amos. Get on top of us and sit your huge, chunky man-titties over our head!"

“Oh fuck yeah!" exclaimed Amos and Shaw suddenly felt the huge dragon flexing over him with those perky nipples brushing against his left ear. It was all he could do to manage to take the pose of taking a sip from the beer long enough for Killian to take a photo.

“Perfect!" exclaimed the DJ. He gave Shaw a quick peck on the cheek before bouncing off with his can of beer. “Okay! I got to go set up my next set! Have a good time, boys! Hasta Luego, Shaw!"

Left stunned, Shaw could only reach up and touch his cheek where the otter had kissed him. It was still warm though he wasn't sure if that was because of the kiss or the blush that was taking over his entire body.

“He's a bundle of balls," laughed Amos, seeing his expression. “Come on, lets make Joel lose his shit and show him you're here?" The dragon nodded towards the other guys who looked like they were in the midst of making 'sip selfies' a reality. “They look like they're busy."

“Oh… Okay," was all Shaw could manage.

Using his immense bulk, Amos was able to pave a way through the crowd with ease and make his way to the bar which had somewhat calmed down in terms of the crowd since the music was down for the moment. It was impossible to miss the crimson dragon so Joel immediately saw him. Then Amos reached behind him and pulled Shaw to the forefront.

Joel's features were first a look of shock and then broke into a bright grin of genuine happiness.

“Shaw! What the hell are you doing here!?"

“Erick invited me," Shaw answered, having to raise his voice a little over the chatter of crowds.

There was a look of exasperation on Joel's features like he didn't expect anything less from the technologically adept wolf. “Of course he did." Then his features brightened immediately. “I'm glad you made it, though! Can I get you anything?"

Shaw lifted the beer in his paws. “Still nursing this."

It was brief but he thought he saw a look of disappointment in Joel's amber eyes. As quickly as it came, it was gone. “Cool. Just tell me if you want anything better!"

Then the music started again.

Joel pointed of to the right. “I've got to get back to work. Talk to you in a bit, okay?"

Shaw lifted his beer can in a salute. “I'll be here."

Joel

Fucking Erick.

Joel was having some serious regrets about telling the wolf about his hook-up with Shaw but he couldn't be too mad. If ever there was a time to get the recently heartbroken polar bear out and shaking his tail, it was during Fratboy Friday. Not to mention it gave Shaw the opportunity to meet the other guys. Though Joel was a little cautious about what they might have said, considering that Shaw stayed throughout the night and was walking up the same steps to his apartment, it could not have been too bad.

“How can Killian maintain so much energy throughout the night?" Shaw said, gasping a little as he headed up to the fourth floor. “He was on all night."

Joel beamed down at the bear behind him. At some point, someone had managed to convince Shaw to unbutton his shirt so now he didn't look so much like a fratbro from a high-society college like Harvard. A red and white baseball cap had been slapped on his head which he currently wore with the bill off to the side and he had a ring of glowsticks hanging from his neck.

And he was still mostly sober.

“Killian is a borderline sociopath," Joel chuckled. “He takes this creepy analytical view of everything and everyone. Like he breaks you down and somehow always knows what you need. It's how he can read the crowd and why he makes the best DJ." He approached his apartment door and slipped his key into the doorknob. “You can't force a crowd to get hyped if they don't want to. But you can trick them into getting hyped with a few well-placed sets."

“That sounds… difficult."

Joel opened the door to his apartment, shuffling aside to let Shaw in. This time, the bear took his time to step inside and take in his surroundings without the blurry beer goggles. “It took some time for him to genuinely feel affection for us. He can fake it like the best of them but you cannot fake an orgasm."

Shaw flinched at the 'o-word', making Joel grin.

“Once he started having regular sex with the rest of us, we got to know the real Killian," finished the bull, closing the door behind him.

“Is that something you guys do?" asked Shaw. “Sleep with each other?" There was a flash of confusion and something adjacent to concern on the bear's features. “How does that… work, exactly?"

Now came the hard part; explaining to other people exactly how the guys at JACKED could remain romantically detached from one another while still regularly having sex and even going on what would normally considered 'romantic' outings with each other.

Joel padded over to the couch and sat down at the farthest seat from Shaw, one arm draped over the back of the seat. “I guess the best what you describe it is a six-way friends with benefits. We love each other like brothers. But we're not in love with one another. We have separate bank accounts except for the corporate one we have for the bar. We live separately and we tell each other about who we sleep with because…" He waved a paw in Shaw's direction. “… you know, it could affect the rest of the group."

“For what it's worth, I am clean," mumbled Shaw.

“Yeah. You kept telling me last night as you sucked my tongue out of my muzzle."

Shaw's began to turn pink from embarrassment. “I'm just… honestly amazed that you can maintain a deep relationship with five other guys."

Joel cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, it's not the traditional kind of friendship. Probably closer to a sitcom set in a college dorm where everyone is horny as fuck. But that's where we are. Wouldn't have it any other way."

“Oh."

There was a pang of disappointment in Shaw's voice.

“Why?" teased Joel. “You want in on this? Think you can handle six guys at once?" He waggled his eyebrows. “Because that's an orgy."

The polar bear's blush grew deeper as he raised his paws. “No! Just… I don't know. I guess… I'm kind of jealous."

Not the response he expected but he could tell Shaw was opening up. So he patted the seat beside him and the bear shuffled forward, parking himself at as far from Joel as possible.

“I've never really had any other gay friends," mumbled Shaw. “Liam was the one that had all the friends. In fact, the guy I found him with was one of his friends."

Joel has to grimace at that, sucking air through clenched teeth. “Oh damn. That stings."

“It was my fault." Shaw's gaze fell to the ground. “All I ever do is wake up, go to work, come home, play games and then go to bed. Weekends I'm doing chores and barely ever paid attention to him. He had… needs."

“What do you do for a living?"

“Senior marketer at this advertising firm," came the instantaneous and dismissive response like he was used to giving such an off-the-cuff response.

“Damn!" Joel exclaimed. “And your ex was working at an 'artisinal sandwich shop'? Who was paying for all the bills!?"

“Me… I guess. He only worked when shifts were available but he got the groceries and anything we needed around the apartment."

Joel leaned forward, keeping a respectable distance but pointing at the bear. “The apartment you paid for."

Shaw's lips peeled back in his own apologetic grimace. “Yeah but I was always so busy most of the time that I never really got to do anything about the apartment. If he wasn't cooking, I'd just order Thai food and play videogames until it was time for bed. I barely ever saw him."

That did not really sound like Shaw's fault. It seemed more like Shaw played the role of the breadwinner while this Liam guy was mooching off him. However, as a bartender, Joel had learned never to take sides in a story. Lend a sympathetic ear, maybe, but never take sides. As much as he instinctively hated Liam for what he did to Shaw, he had to check his bias because he knew he slept with the bear.

“Let's not talk about your ex," Joel said, waving a paw and leaning back in his part of the couch. “Sounds like you want to change."

“I guess I do…?" A tinge of uncertainty came not only from his words but in his stance. He was visibly shrinking in front of Joel. “It's… all pretty new to me. I haven't been single for three years. Feels… weird not to have anyone to come home to. Feels even weirder to meet someone who lives alone but can call any of his five friends to have sex with at any time."

Joel glanced away, fighting the smile on his muzzle as he absently scratched his cheek. “Well…" He felt more than saw Shaw's pointed, accusatory look. “Yeah, that's right. My life is pretty great." Turning back to his depressed house guest, he said, “But this is the start of your new life! You came out to the bar twice! You drank alcohol! You're wearing a baseball cap sideways!"

Shaw glanced up briefly then reached for the cap, patting around as if trying to feel where the bill was. When he found it, he wrenched it from his head and held it out at arm's length with disgust.

“Jesus…" he muttered to himself, making Joel laugh. “That isn't me."

“Most of the guys at the bar aren't partying fratboys either. But every once in a while, it's good to drop everything and pretend."

Shaw lowered the cap, letting it sit on his lap while his eyes were fixated on it. “I guess that's true. Everyone looked like they were having fun and the bar was packed." He glanced towards Joel. “I've got to ask, why did you swipe for my profile?"

Good question and one Joel happily answered. “I'm going to put it into the context of a good drink." He held up his hands. “Everyone has a favorite drink. Everyone." Before Shaw could protest, he held up a finger. “Let me finish. We haven't found yours yet but when we do, this will be relevant."

He got a nod of confirmation.

Clearing his throat, he continued. “Everyone has a favorite drink. But no matter how much you like it, if you keep having it every day constantly, you're eventually going to get sick of it. So you got to change it up a bit. We matched on Howler and you were a breath of fresh air from my usual hook ups so I swiped."

“So is that how it works with you and the other guys? You have sex with each of them and cycle through? That's how you keep it fresh?"

“Pretty much!" laughed Joel. “I mean, it's not just with one guy either. Sometimes we have threesomes, foursomes and more! Hell, Cash sometimes throws an orgy where he invites all his buddies and we do the same. We go to his place, strip naked and just fuck or get fucked!"

Shaw's eyes boggled and he swallowed loudly. It was unclear if he was excited by that idea or turned off.

“Is that a problem?" asked Joel, inclining his head slightly.

“No," came the immediately response which was followed by a short pause. “No," Shaw answered more firmly. “You're right. I was looking for a palette cleanse after Liam. I needed to get out. It'd be stupid of me to expect anything more."

“You were expecting more now?" teased Joel.

Shaw's blush returned with a vengeance and he straightened in his seat. “No! I mean…" He grimaced again and looked away. “I… I don't just sleep around, you know? I'm kind of… traditional. Talk first, go on dates and then have sex. Yesterday was not me. Totally not me."

Smiling to himself, Joel finally shuffled along the couch a little closer to Shaw. To his credit, the bear did not shy away.

“To be fair, I liked the 'you' that fucked me twice last night."

That blush grew even brighter and the bear's eyes were so wide Joel could see the cap reflected in his pupils.

“So how about you show me who you really are?" Joel asked, reaching over and gently cupping Shaw's chin. With the slowest and tenderest of pressure, he turned the bears broad muzzle to face him. Shaw did not fight him.

A powerful force began pulling their lips together…

… their noses were almost touching…

… Shaw's eyes fluttered close…

Time to close the deal.

“… so I can find your perfect drink."

…

If a record scratch could have a face, it was undoubtedly the look of annoyance mixed with disappointment on Shaw's features. The bear's eyes opened, his eyes half-closed in irritation and his lips pulled to the edges of his cheeks, pursed together and with fangs just barely showing.

“Really?" Shaw scowled.

Joel let out a bellowing, full-body laugh as the bear swatted his hands away. “Come on," he snickered. “After that scathing review you left me this morning, you really expect me to just let you fuck me?" He winked at the bear as he got up. “I've got my professional pride to worry about."

“You just want me to get drunk again."

Keeping a grin to himself, Joel moved to his liquor cabinet, currently stocked with some of the more expensive and nuanced booze he had collected over his short career as a bartender.

“Not going to lie, that does factor into it," he admitted. “You are an animal when you're drunk. Whiskey dick has nothing on you." Without turning around, he could feel the polar bear blushing from head to toe. That gave him time to pick a select few pieces of alcohol, grab two glasses and bring them over. “

He set the bottles down and popped open a red wine bottle, pouring the contents into the glass. “So my problem yesterday is I was making you all of these fancy drinks that were made of all this shit. They were shiny and looked good. Maybe that's not your drink. Maybe you'd be better with just something nice and clean."

Joel pushed the glass to his guest while swirling its contents to aerate the wine. “This is a red wine made from a hybrid grape grown right here in California. It's rich, aromatic and flavorful. Give it a try."

A dubious look on his face, Shaw took the glass, started at it for a second and then gently tipped it into his muzzle. His look said it all. It was like every part of him scrunched up and he immediately stuck out his tongue with a shake of his head.

He did not like it.

“Urgh…" he groaned. “I can feel the booze in the back of my nose! Is it meant to do that."

“Kind of," Joel rumbled, setting that glass aside. “Okay, maybe red wine isn't your thing. Let's try some whiskey." He poured some whiskey into a glass for Shaw and handed it over. “This one is a nice cedar whiskey. Should have a good woody taste to it."

“Here goes…" mumbled Shaw. Then he tipped his head back and downed the entire serving, making Joel jump in surprise. Shaw's face immediately turned red and his eyes boggled. Somehow, the bear managed to swallow the entire glass worth of whiskey without vomiting.

“It burns!" screamed Shaw. Jeol was hit with the blast of alcohol from the bear's cry and visibly flinched.

“You don't guzzle whiskey!" he cried.

“How was I supposed to know!?" shouted Shaw back, tears welling in his eyes.

Right. Never drunk before in his life.

“Why did you decide that you wanted to drink all of the whiskey now while you only sipped the wine!?" Joel shouted back.

“Because you gave me a whole glass of red wine and the whiskey was like this much!" He held his forefinger and thumb about an inch away. “I thought it was okay to drink it all!"

“You're thinking about a shot!" Joel ran a hand down his muzzle and groaned softly. “Okay, it's okay. Let's try something else."

He reached for a different bottle and poured it into the third and last glass. “This is an apple cider. Kind of simple. But it also has a hint of smokiness to it so it's not just like drinking a boozy apple juice."

Shaw lifted a finger at him, panting. “I… I'm gonna need a minute." The bear wiped some tears from his eyes with the heel of his paw. “That… that whiskey has a kick…"

A spark of hope. Perhaps whiskey - drunk properly - was what Shaw really needed. “A good kick?" he ventured hopefully.

“What kind kick is good?" sneered Shaw.

Feeling a little petty, Joel countered with, “A field goal in football? Penalty kick in soccer? Ryu's low kick in Street Fighter?"

The bear's ears immediately perked up and a clarity entered his eyes. “You play Street Fighter?"

Joel blew a raspberry with his lips and rolled his eyes. “Bitch, I may be forty-four but I ain't no boomer that blames all violence on videogames. I'll crush you up with Chun Li's thick-ass thighs!"

“What other games do you play?"

Joel quirked an eyebrow at the bear and listed off his current library. Given that he worked late nights at the bar, he seldom got to play with anyone his age when he was awake and free. Most of the games he frequented were single player games. The last thing he wanted to do was feel stressed over being bested by preteens who had nothing better to do than play games while they were pretending to be sick on weekdays and then accusing him of inappropriate behavior for being in his mid-forties while they were 'just kids'.

“Though I started getting into this game recently," Joel said, glancing off to the right. As he did so, he subtly poured more cider into Shaw's glass. The bear hadn't even noticed that he had emptied it as they had chatted. “It's call Endless Abandon. Heard of it?"

Shaw frowned a little. “That's that weird cooperative multiplayer game, right? The one where you kind of kind of have a dedicated server and what you do on that server contributes to a global effort or something?"

“So you have heard of it," Joel said, beaming. “Yeah. Monsters spawn in your little plot of land on a planet. You build and construct things from there to defend your land and expand it. Your farm produces stuff that goes to the global effort to 'conquer' the planet." He shrugged absently, keenly watching as Shaw drank the cider he was offered. “It's part farming sim, part tower defense, part first-person-shooter and just a little bit of an MMO. Kind of."

A thoughtful sound came from Shaw's muzzle. “Been hearing lots about it. I might try it some time." He offered Joel a lopsided smile, perhaps as a sign of his impending inebriation. “Though, I'm going to admit, I never expected someone like you to be into videogames."

“What? Someone over the age of twenty-five?"

“Someone who looks as good as you. You clearly go to the gym. How can you do that, work at a bar and play games?"

Something told him that a normal, sober Shaw would never have outwardly complimented him. Getting someone drunk to have sex with them was not his modus operandi but it seemed that was the only way he could get Shaw to loosen up and lower his inhibitions.

And I'm only doing this so I can find out what he likes to drink, he told himself. Though apple cider seems to be a good candidate.

The bull bartender was unsure if he was disappointed that he had found Shaw's drink of preference so soon or proud. Either way, he subtly poured more of the cider into Shaw's empty glass as he responded to the question posited to him.

“If you really like to do something, you'll find the time and motivation to do it," Joel responded with a shrug. “Besides, I get off work around two in the morning. Wake up around noon. I do some chores, eat something and then I'd still have a few hours to kill before work. Apart from the gym, I don't have anything else to do except play some games."

“I suppose I can see that," Shaw mumbled, taking a gulp from his cider. He grunted softly and regarded the glass. “This isn't too bad. I wouldn't call it my favorite though."

“Had me fooled." When given a quizzical look, Joel smirked and said, “You've already had three glasses, little cola."

Shaw stared at the glass and held it out at arm's length. “What? No I haven't."

“First sign you're drunk. You've lost count of how many drinks you've had." A devilish grin crawled onto his face. “Or is that alcoholism?"

“I am not an alcoholic!" bellowed Shaw, perhaps a bit too loudly. The redness around his cheeks was definitely from more than just his humiliation. “Just to prove it, I'm putting this down!" He slammed the glass on the coffee table and folded his arms.

Joel let out a short laugh and lowered the bottle of cider. “A couple of nights drinking doesn't make you an alcoholic. Trust me, I've seen alcoholics. You're fine. I can tell you're buzzed but you're not wasted."

“And why is that?"

“Because you haven't dragged me into bed yet," Joel joked, giving the bear a wink. Shaw stared at him defiantly.

“Will you stop teasing me!?" Shaw snatched the bottle of cider from the table and pointed the neck towards Joel. “Or else I'll shove something this up your ass!"

“Don't threaten me with a good time," answered the bull, holding up his hands.

Shaw glared at him. “How have you not gotten punched yet?"

Joel glanced away and scratched the back of his left hand. The memory of his father's belt coming crashing down upon his hands and fingers was still a fresh sting even all these years later. “I've gotten into my fair share of scrapes." A rippling laugh left his muzzle. “The guys say I'm pretty impulsive."

“And I'm not?" came Shaw's insulted declaration. “Fuck you and fuck Liam! I can be impulsive! I can be spontaneous." Without warning, Shaw tipped his head back and began guzzling the cider straight from the bottle.

Bartender instincts and training kicked in and Joel leapt at his guest, yanking the bottle away from the bear. “Whoa! Hey! I never said you were not impulsive!"

Maybe he's a little more tipsy than I thought.

“That's why Liam broke up with me," scowled Shaw, swallowing the mouthful that he had. “I wasn't impulsive. Attentive. Didn't satisfy him. I'm fat. Unattractive. No surprise why he cheated on me."

Shaw was spiraling. Not a good sign. Spiraling would lead to seeking out some sort of relief from the depression and with a cabinet full of high quality alcohol, there was no guarantee that the bear would turn to alcoholism as a band aid to his issues.

“Hey now…" Joel began. “It's not your fault."

“It is," growled Shaw, baring his fangs. “I'll show him who can be impulsive!" Without warning, he lunged past Joel and snatched the bottle of whiskey.

“No! Stop!" shouted the bull, going for the bottle but Shaw gave him a goofy grin and lifted the bottle over his head, just out of reach.

“Oops," cooed the bear coyly and then tipped the bottle over.

Amber liquid came pouring down from the lip of the bottle and straight onto Joel's head. The strong smell of alcohol and cedar flooded the bull's nostrils, stinging his eyes a little. He snorted and reeled back which only allowed Shaw to pour the booze down his neck and chest. The warm liquid soaked into his short fur, filling the entire lounge room with its heady scent.

As much as he was pleased Shaw was being a little more open, he couldn't stop thinking that this was a fairly expensive bottle of whiskey. Those thoughts were banished, though, when he felt the bear's surprisingly agile tongue slide over his cheeks and worm its way into the sides of his muzzle.

“Huuuuhmmmf…?" he mumbled right into Shaw's lips as the bear put all of his weight upon him and pushed him back down against the couch. The taste of apple juice with the faintest touch of alcohol squirmed its way onto his tongue. Even provided second-hand, Joel could tell that this was not a particularly boozy apple cider. The kind that one could get off the shelf and still need an ID for but where one could comfortably drink all six bottles of without feeling particularly buzzed.

A confused and definitely aroused bull pushed Shaw back, staring into the soft, green eyes of the bear. “You're not drunk."

Shaw's blush grew even deeper as he reached up and pulled the glasses off his face. “No…" He tossed those glasses aside. “… but I can be."

Then he dove for Joel's neck, long flat tongue slurping up the traces of whiskey that had soaked into the latter's fur. Jolts of bliss shot through the bull's system making his brown eyes rolled into the back of his head and his eyelids to flutter like fleeting butterflies. His fingers dug into the couch, twisting the faux leather. The soft screeching of the upholstery was lost against the loud, wet suckling of the polar bear that latched to his neck.

Shaw's tongue traced the lines of the veins along his neck, following them down to his collarbone where it did a few loops that made him squirm. Something about being duped by the bear and now being pinned to the couch pumped arousal through his veins. His cock was already straining against the tan, baggy pants he wore as part of Fratboy Friday, worming its way up his belt line and starting to tent up the pastel purple shirt he was wearing.

He barely let out a moan, arching his back as he did so. This allowed Shaw to follow the curve of his pectorals from his collarbone. It was with great expertise that the bear found his nipple even through the thin fabric of his shirt. Shockwaves of warmth and electric bolts of pleasure blasted through Joel's chest. Shaw's lips expertly suckled on his nipples with an expertise that he hadn't expected from the young, formerly heartbroken bear. Before he could even marvel at how Shaw could bring such a sense of arousal through a shirt, the bear's fingers closed in on his other nipple and gave it a light twist.

Like a dial being turned, Joel lifted his hips, arching his back and let out a moan that shook his entire body. All his pleasure centers were instantly activated. Fire traveled through his veins, pumping primitive desires down to his crotch and the throbbing member that was present there. With Shaw slurping at his other nipple, he was caught between the twin diametrically opposed sensations of a smooth, long tongue's gentle lapping and the pinpoint pressure of pinching on sensitive flesh.

Added to this was the distinct sensation of something long, hard and throbbing pressing up against his calves. He tensed his muscles and rubbed his leg against Shaw's member, enjoying the pulsating sensation against his skin and the soft moans that he got from the bear. The heat from Shaw's cock only grew to near-molten levels until he could feel it running down his leg.

Shaw was leaking through his pants.

That's fucking hot.

Somehow able to regain some semblance of control over his motor functions, Joel reached down with both his hands and felt around Shaw's ass. His hands found a surprisingly firm butt and his curiosity got the better of him as he followed its curves and meaty frame fill out his palms. A little squeeze here and there brought moans rising from Joel, the momentum causing the bear to thrust harder and harder against his leg.

“Let's get you out of those pants," he growled.

For a second, Shaw pulled away from his nipple, his breath casting an icy breeze against the erect nub. “Get out of that shirt," came the predatory response.

Their muzzles meshed together, tongues dancing in the bridge between their faces. Joel closed his eyes, experiencing the taste and sensations of Shaw ravaging him. At the same time, he blindly fumbled for the bear's belt. It was with great expertise that he followed the loop of the belt around the front of the bear's pants and discerned that it was one of those plate buckles - the kind that didn't have a hole or clamp. That made it easier to simply undo the latch and unbutton the bear's pants shortly afterwards.

He looped his thumb around Shaw's underwear and was halfway to pulling it down when the bear's claws hooked the edges of his shirt and pulled them up to expose his abdominals. Shaw abruptly broke the kiss but he was not without the bear's surprisingly wet and flexible tongue for long. He felt its touch on the tip of his dick where it seemed to gather momentum and carry his precum all the way up his chiseled abdominals and even found it's way between the crevasses where his belly button was hiding.

Joel was stopped in his attempt to strip Shaw by the bear's ravenous attempt to paint every inch of his abdominals with his tongue. That warm organ slipped up the sides of his obliques, sliding up and down the muscular ridges of his abdominals and leaving a trail of tingling warmth that only made him tense and clench his abs all the more. This only drove Shaw to press his nose in between four of his abs, trying to get in there, his hot breath making the bull quiver in delight.

Then Shaw reached up with his spare paw, slipping it underneath Joel's shirt and gripped Joel's free nipple.

“Oh god…!" moaned the bartender, trying to brace himself. Nothing could have prepared him for the twin pleasures of ecstasy that erupted from his erect nubs. He instinctively clenched his chest, flexing it out of pure instinct. His head was thrown back like he was bucking off a cowboy.

Shaw's tongue kissed the tip of his cock once more, teasing him with the supple touch of his velvety lips. Then it did a few laps around his bottom abdominals… passed up to the second row and kissed each of the muscular plates before moving to the top row. Joel felt Shaw's wet nose just pressing up against his diaphragm… where it passed and headed higher.

Confusion suddenly gave way to arousal as Shaw somehow slipped his head underneath his shirt and pressed his muzzle in between Joel's clenched pectorals. Shaw's paws gripped the edges of his chest and pushed them together, sandwiching his cheeks between the enormous mounts and shaking his head voraciously, trying to vibrate himself further and further into the valley.

Rrrrrriiiip!

A fissure of fabric started from the base of his neckline and quickly split his shirt all the way down the middle, finally freeing Shaw's head from its confines. They locked gazes for a moment. Shaw's soft green eyes were clear, glimmering filled with determination. There was nothing Joel could do to stop the bears assault of him if he wanted. Not that he wanted.

A soft rumble left his throat and he reached up, gripping the back of Shaw's head while tensing his pectorals to their peak firmness. The bear rumbled loudly into his chest. With his other paw, he reached down and shuffled out of his pants. There was a rush of relief and intimate pleasure as his cock pressed up against Shaw's coarse fur.

He flexed his pectorals to some unknown rhythm, causing Shaw to bounce against his chest while the ursine's paws happily held on tightly, fingers exploring every part of Joel's sculpted musculature. There was a moment of intimate pleasure when, between beats, his cock pressed up against Shaw's own pulsing member.

They both tensed; the touch of their two most sensitive organs shooting lightning bolts of ecstasy throughout their bodies and short-circuiting their cognitive functions. This caused Joel to slowly release the tension against his pectorals and in doing so, caused Shaw to slide downwards slightly. He moaned as he felt the veins along Shaw's cock and the glands of the bear grind against the length of his member.

One of Shaw's big hands rested against his left pectoral. The bear used this to prop himself up, pulling away but keeping his legs cradling Joel's waist. Shaw's other paw reached down towards their crotch, pressing their cocks against one another and holding the heated rods of flesh together.

Hesitation flashed against Shaw's green eyes.

Joel took the initiative and thrust into the bear's paw, dragging his cock down along the ursine iron grip and pulling Shaw's own member down with him. Shaw shut his eyes, biting his lower him and stifling a moan. Joel reached up, gently rubbing the back of his fingers against Shaw's fingers that still firmly gripped his pectoral for stability.

His thrusting was slow and gentle. With each iteration, he traced gentle lines up and down Shaw's forearms in sensual laps. Inch by inch, he moved up Shaw's arms; navigating up the forest of fur over his forearms and running his fingers into the inside of the bear's elbows. As he crested the bear's biceps, he gave the meaty arms a little squeeze. Though Shaw appeared a little on the chubby side, he had some firm muscle beneath those arms. His intimate dance was reduced to a single finger which he used to trace the line from Shaw's shoulder and to his collarbone.

Then he found himself at a crossroads; to go up towards the bear's muzzle or down towards the ursine chest. Shaw answered that question for him. With his glasses still somehow sitting awkwardly on his muzzle, Shaw dipped his head down, nuzzling Joel's fingers up towards his face. Joel could only spend about a second gently cupping Shaw's cheeks before their heated thrusting jostled his thumb to slip into the bear's muzzle.

Old predator-pray instincts threatened to ruin the moment but when Shaw's jaws clamped around his digit and began to suckle on it sensually, self-preservation was washed away in the sea of precum that was pouring out of their dicks. His own eyelids fluttered as his thrusts became more and more feverish. His other hand reached up behind Shaw's ass, gripping the furry butt to add more power to the bear's bucking.

Their balls slapped against one another, four hot orbs of pure masculine sex that were just begging for release. Shaw's claws dug into his chest but without breaking the skin, adding a little more pressure to the growing need that was building inside them both. Joel's thrusting was quickly starting to take him off the couch, lifting Shaw as well who remained cradling him. That display of strength must have done something for the bear because he could feel Shaw's cock spasm immensely with each such thrust. Jets of precum burst from the bear's member and splattered against Joel's abdominals. That pressed Joel's own buttons, spurring him closer and closer to orgasm.

He could feel his cum bubbling to up from his balls, pressing up against his prostate and creeping inch by inch up his throbbing cock. He tightened his grip around their members, trying to keep himself from shotting too soon. It worked… for about three or four thrusts before the faintest sliver of cum shot past his impromptu dam and shot towards the tip of his dick.

“Fuck…!" he cursed, teeth gnashed together. Hot seed blasted out of the tip of his cock, blasting up and squirting against his abdominals. Once the first shot was out, there was no stopping the flood. Even as his grip around his dick and Shaw's tightened, the flood of his cum came rushing out, sending shockwaves of pleasure throughout his entire body. He thrust one last time, arching his back and letting out a stifling moan.

Burst of cum splattered across his abdominals. In between his shots, however, he felt a staccato of sticky rain that were certainly not his own. The rumbling he felt from Shaw and the tight grip against his pectorals was evidence enough that he wasn't the only one that had reached his climax.

A shudder of satisfaction rippled throughout his body and he gave himself to the entire sensation of orgasm. Every muscle in his body shuddered, tightening and loosening in rapid succession until his balls were completely drained.

The bull collapsed into the couch with a gasp.

The grip around his thumb loosened. Still somewhat blinded from the outrageous orgasm, he gently pulled his digit away from Shaw's lips, running his thumb across the polar bear's cheeks. Shaw nuzzled his hand gently. The grip around his pectoral loosened at the same time as did the tight vice-like hold the bear's thighs had against his waist. Shaw, however, did not let go of their cocks quite yet.

The allure of afterglow threatened to take him. Muscling through it, Joel managed to prop himself up, sitting up just enough so that his cum-covered abdominals could press against Shaw's belly. A squeak of surprise came from the bear but it was quickly silenced when their muzzles met in a gentle kiss. Shaw immediately melted into the gentle embrace of the bull…

… until Joel used his strength to slip his arms around Shaw and lift him clear off the couch. Shaw let out a panicked cry as the much bigger bull stood up, cradling him against his chest. The bear's arms wrapped around his neck and they broke this kiss.

“I'm not done with you yet," Joel snickered devilishly.

“Oh…" Shaw gasped, his cheeks starting to go pink even as a smile began creeping across his face. “Oh… no…"

Shaw

It was one of those 'blink and it's morning' scenarios.

What he had consciously done the previous night was burned into his memory. He was unsure if it was all a dream or reality. The worst part was that he could not rely on the excuse that he had merely been drunk to explain away his depraved behavior. Even in his most testosterone-fueled, sex-crazed moments with Liam, he had never done anything such as pour alcohol onto his lover's neck and suck it out of their fur. That was right out of some cheesy porn movie or a crappy Hollywood romcom. After spending an hour or so wondering where he could have picked up such a depraved act, Shaw came to the terrifying realization that he had never read, seen or even heard of any such act before.

It was all him.

He had no one to blame for such a depraved act but himself.

“Hey Joel…?" Shaw mumbled softly, staring at the plain, egg-shell white ceiling of Joel's apartment.

“Yeah?" rumbled the bull sleepily. Joel lay beside him, naturally having to lay on his back. Horned furs like him generally had no choice but to lay on their back when sleeping because sleeping on their side would cause discomfort because of said horns while slumbering on their stomach risked piercing their pillows.

“Did… Did we…?" he began with a quivering voice.

“Oh yeah," came the chortle that was part mocking and part exhaustion. “We fucked. You are an animal."

Shaw closed his eyes and groaned softly to himself. “Okay… So I wasn't drunk."

“That's what you said."

He raised his paws to his face, covering his eyes, trying to hide his shame from the universe. “Everything is kind of a blur. Did I… lick bourbon off your neck?"

“No."

There was a bit of relief from that simple statement.

“It was whiskey."

Shaw's lips twisted into snarl and he pulled one paw away from his face, gazing across the bed at Joel. The bull was pretending to be asleep - poorly - but there was no stopping that cheeky grin on his face.

“Asshole," he sneered. Still glaring at the handsome bull beside him, he said, “Did I really crawl under your shirt and…"

“Tear through it while motor-boating me like a cargo ship making it through a hurricane? Yeah. Yeah you did."

Shaw's cheeks burned in embarrassment. Bad enough that he had hooked up with Joel while drunk in the first place but he had come back the following night and did it all over again while moderately sober! It was time to rip off the bandaid. Get all the sex acts out of the way and not prolong his suffering.

“Did I… I grab our dicks and frot us until we came?"

“Hell yeah," chuckled Joel. “That was really hot."

“Right," Shaw said, taking a deep breath. “Then… Did you…"

“Carry you to my bedroom princess-style? Totally." Only then did Joel open one of his eyes and lock gazes with Shaw. “We kissed. Then you licked the cum off my abs. You sucked my balls and then fucked me until I came again. You finished off on my back."

Shaw slapped his forehead with his free paw, holding his palms against his eyes to once again bask in the comforting darkness where he couldn't see that annoying smirk or those glimmering, enthralling amber eyes.

“I'm not really like that," he groaned. “If I was, Liam would never have left me."

There was a shuffling in the bed beside him and he peeked between his fingers to see that Joel now lay on his side, propping his head up with a meaty arm. His arm was flexed in such a way that the morning sunlight peeking through the blinds looked like it was cresting over the summit of his bicep. Shaw was momentarily enthralled again but quickly shook it away.

“Fuck Liam," Joel said firmly. “Forget who you were before. You have a fresh start, man. You're going out to bars. You're trying to find your drink. You're hooking up with me and literally riding a bull." He waved a hand absently through the air, pretending that his flat palm was a plane that was soaring off into the distance. “Who you were? Gone. Liam may have been the ass that told you who you were wasn't good enough for him but you're the one that decided you didn't like who you had become. So doing all this stuff? Doing me? That's who you are now. It'll be up to you again if you like that person or want to switch it up."

Slowly, the burning sensations on his cheeks faded away and he quietly and slowly pulled his paws from his face. “That's… That's really insightful."

Joel puffed out his meaty chest and offered a smug smile. “Well, I am a bartender. I earned that stereotype of us being booze-swinging therapists."

The pink coloration on Shaw's fur began to fade as he let out a little chuckle. “Right." He let out a soft sigh as he let his paws hang to his sides. “Thing is, I don't even know if the 'me' that did all that stuff is someone I like… I still don't like any of the drinks you've served me." He immediately felt Joel's scathing look and offered a sheepish smile. “Not to say they weren't good. Just that… if you put a gun to my head and told me to drink it, it'd take the bullet."

Joel's eyes narrowed at him. Now the bull was fully awake. Seemed like insulting his profession and ability to serve a drink was a surefire way to get his attention. Shaw wasn't sure why he was keeping that piece of information somewhere safe and forming a core memory out of it but he sure was hell was doing it.

“You're not making me feel any better."

“You'll find my drink," he replied. “But maybe I need to find myself first. I don't know. This is kind of… new territory for me."

A big hand rested on his arm, stroking it gently. “Take your time, bud. You don't have to rush things. Start with the small things. And if you need help, you know where to find me."

That made him genuinely smile. A sense of warmth, camaraderie and unattached affection radiated from Joel. This was really just a hook up and one that didn't end in disgust or regret the following day - at least not that much.

Hollywood had it all wrong.

Maybe there is something to this polyamorous relationship Joel has with the other guys.

“I appreciate that, really," he responded, slowly rising from the bed. “But if it's all the same with you, I think I need to be in familiar surroundings. I'm going to head back home."

“Need a ride back to your car?"

“I'll take an Uber." Before Joel could protest, he held up a hand. “I had fun. I really did. But I'm an introvert by heart. I need time to recharge." Sliding off the bed, he reached down and started plucking his clothes off the floor.

“We're still on for tonight though, right?"

The question caught him off-guard and he turned towards Joel in confusion. The bull was giving him a knowing smile.

“Huh?"

“Don't tell me you forgot," mocked the bull. “We agreed to go on an official date tonight."

Shaw had to glance away so that he quickly ran through his memories, previous conversations and plans. It took him a full twenty seconds to come to the conclusion that Joel was right. Attending JACKED's Fratboy Friday did not count as their 'date' on Saturday - which was the current date. He ran through the pros and cons of seeing Joel yet again making it three nights in a row.

If I see Joel again tonight… it would likely lead to more drinking…

That's a road to alcoholism, at least based on what he had been told growing up. It would not be good for his overall health. These past few days had been terrible for sleep schedule. Conversely, most of his days had been spent playing games on his couch until the sun rose so what 'sleep schedule' he had was erratic at best.

There was also the issue that he has been systematically insulting Joel's professionalism.

… despite that, the bovine bartender still asked him out.

And I had fun.

He flashed Joel a smile.

“Yeah. Count on it."