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Just to be clear clear for a moment, this is a continuation of Alone on a Backroad, make sure to roll on over and read that first before you tune into this one, Carter and Barrett are back!~

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As soon as his feet left the cold floorboard of Pop's truck and landed on the pavement below, Barrett's heart sank into his stomach. He felt gravity push his body further into the rough stone, he didn't feel like he could move.. What was this feeling?.. Heartbreak? Barrett shifted his head to glance at the Gator behind him, but instead, he was met with the sound of the engine hissing as the truck pulled onto the highway. As promptly as the reptile appeared, he was gone.

A humid, hot wind hit the side of his body from the south, causing the slip of paper clenched in his paw to flutter weakly. That's right, the piece of paper, the Gator's number. Thoughts swam through Barrett's head of ideas of why he gave it to him; He needed a quick booty call? Did he want a friend? Something else?.. The Arctic Wolf waved the thoughts from his head and pressed forward, taking the money in his other hand as he pushed the door to the Motel open.

"Gah, fuckin'!..- Oh, welcome! We're vacant right now, come on in!"An older bloodhound called out the ringing the door had caused, it was as if hands were clasping his throat as he spoke. Barrett turned the corner to get a full view of the hound - he was dressed in a suit that looked like it belonged in the seventies, and not only due to its looks. Several stains covered it; dried mud, blood.. was that a jizz stain on his pant leg? Barrett took his eyes lower to avoid that bit, didn't want him to think he was curious about it. Then it struck him as to why he called out, around his frontmost three toes was a large mousetrap, it snapped down on him when he wasn't looking.

"What're you lookin' for, sir? The night? The week?" He asked with a rather cliche salesmen tone, posture, and grin on his face - His toes were bright blue due to the trap, but goddammit if it was gonna stop him from making money.

"O-Oh, erm, just two or three days. Depends on business." The Wolf stated clearly, lacking an accent for the Bloodhound to pick up. Northerners meant money.

"Sure, sure!~," he chuckled as he moved behind the lobby counter, punching a few buttons on an ancient cash register, "ain't a problem. Let's see here, take the sudden up fee, mousetrap protection.. Fiddy-three bucks even." Barrett's canines shine as his lips curl into a smile, "Alright. Any room with air conditioning is good with me." He splits the money in his pocket and places sixty dollars in the Bloodhound's palm, in return, he places a shining key with the number 43 attached to it.

"Just don't be too loud and you'll be fine. Thank you for yer business!~"

. . .

The first thing that the Arctic Wolf did was crash on the less-than-stellarly washed bed, relaxing for a few seconds before he got to work. He dug through his backpack until he retrieved a solid black brick, decorated with only a sliding button on the front of it and silver hinges along the back that allowed it to open. His thumb pressed against the right side of the button and slid it to the left, the smooth brick popped open slightly as a response and he slowly opened it completely.

A handgun common for the area - A bullpup colt revolver with shiny, damascus finish to it caught his eye. About six shining bullets lie in the black material next to it, only six, just in case the first two shots caught the ears of anyone willing to fight back. His sharp blue eyes grazed over to the sticky note attached to the top right corner;

"Don't screw this one up! High paying customers, I'll get ya some fast food after if you're a good pup. -Aradia"

Barrett grumbled to himself and rolled his eyes, snagging the picture of his target and getting ready, the thoughts of that woman treating him like a pup hit him worse than any punch would.

. . .

After several shots rang out through the swamplands, Barrett was back at his motel room, cleaning off his pieced apart revolver with a towel that came with the room. He hadn't thought of much since he had left the night before, his mind on the job and on instinct, but.. in the calm of a successful job, a certain man crossed his mind. Pops.

The first thing that entered his mind was the homey smell of his scales. Then his calming voice, the way he spoke to him.. the taste of his piss. His cum. The note with the Gator's number on it came into view; He had to call him, he'd go crazy otherwise.

Barrett leaned to the left and dug his old cellphone out of his bag, 17%, but it was enough to call him. His pupils darted back and forth from the numbers to the keypad on his phone, upon the last number, his finger pressed down into the green phone symbol.

Bzzzz.... Bzzzzz...... Bzzzzzzzzzzz....

The familiar feeling of a sinking heart greeted him. His eyes dropped to his lap, his paw lowered the phone slowly.. He didn't answer. Maybe he gave him a fake number, didn't want to see him again, or-

The crackling of a phone being picked up rumbled through the speaker, then the Gator clearing his throat. "Hello, Baiou Transport, what can I do for ya?"

Barrett pressed the phone back to his ear, a happy little gasp filled the room. "C-Carter?"

A short, almost shocked laugh came from the other side of the phone. "Barrett! I.. didn't expect yuh' to talk to me again, pup."

"I-I didn't wanna seem desperate, you know? Sorry, Pops." The White Wolf responds with about the most awkward, joyous laugh he had ever made, he found his paw scratching the back of his head. "Say, I'm done in town, do you, erm.. Wanna come to see me? I'm at that motel you dropped me off at."

The Gator's voice lowered to a hum.. he sounded embarrassed. "S-Sure, kid. But consider it 'uh date. But I ain't gay. Just wanna date you." Barrett's paw clenched his pants, "W-Wait, didn't you say something about a wife?"

A few seconds of silence followed the question. A low voice responded, "I, well.. ex-wife.. She took everything 'uh few years ago. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.."

A sigh that had been held in his chest for days had been released with that, Barrett nodded silently and murmured, "I-I'm happy. Room 47. Get here soon, Redneck. Or I'll kick your butt."

He clicked the red cellphone shaped button on the pad before the Gator got time to respond, Barrett thought it was a little hilarious, maybe even a bit teasing and cute. All he had to do was wait.

Twenty minutes had passed before three heavy knocks at the door thumped the wall his head was resting on. Barrett quickly jumped onto his feet and rushed to the door, at light speed he brought his paw to the circular handle, but.. made sure to open the door slowly to make it seem that he didn't miss him too much. The Gator's amber eyes lit up as soon as they met the Wolf's face. "Damn.. cutah' than I remember."

Barrett's face scorched with heat, making his face turn a bright shade of pink, now he couldn't meet his eyes. "More handsome than I remember.. Of course, my face was in your lap. C'mon in." Before the door was even shut, the Gator took the lead and began to shut it for him, another hand was pressing up to the side of Barrett's chin and bringing it up to his. Their lips met sweetly as the door clicked shut behind them.

The Gator's hot, raw smelling breath rushed into Barrett's nostrils as he nudged him onto the bed, the two pressed into one another atop the covers. Their tongues danced in one another's mouths in turns, exchanging flavors and scents, milking one another for them. A deep, reptilian hiss rose from Carter as he pressed his sizable bulge into the Wolf's rear, he grunts, "Pants off, pup.." Barrett's ears flatten to the sides of his skull as his submissive aura comes to play. He's quick to slide his pants down, followed by his clean white boxers.

Pops leans himself forward and clamps his jaws around the Wolf's scruff to keep him still, hissing and snarling all the while as he smears his pants down. He wasn't wearing boxers to begin with. His natural, hot yet toxic mating stink fills the Wolf's nostrils.. He slathers lube onto his short yet thick shaft from the tube in his pocket, then pressed it up to Barrett's behind. "I'm markin' you.. Mine.."

Searing hot pain washed through Barrett's veins as the head of Carter's dick popped past his anal ring, but for some reason, he halted. His dick began to soften, his urethra slowly began to swell.

"M..Mark?.. what do you-.. AH!.."

Steaming hot, dark piss began to pump straight into the wolf's bowels, flooding his anal cavity and getting plugged up on the thick shaft at his entrance. The bitter scent of the liquid seeped into his inner flesh - marking him with the gator's feral scent for possibly as long as he'd live. It had nowhere else to go but deeper into him, nowhere else but to mark his stomach with his stench..

Then Carter began to thrust with all his might. Piss ran down his legs in tiny splashes as he fucked it deeper into the Wolf, crying out and grunting on occasion at how good it felt - To fuck your own urine into who you wanted to be your mate. His thick head stretched out Barrett's walls to almost his breaking point, the Wolf was forced to mix shouting out in pain with cries of "Daddy" and "Jesus fuck!".

The sweat running down Carter's fat trucker belly ran onto Barrett as he hilted out inside of him one last time. He pumped thick seed into dark piss - It mixed around inside of Barrett, sticking into his walls, changing the color.. the two of them fell to the side, huffing and panting, darkening the covers with dark sweat.

Carter's slimy tongue ran over Barrett's scruff, he whispers, "I.. want t' call you my mate, Barrett.. please.. Stay'n town with me.."

"I.." Barrett's lips stretched into a smile. He was marked. "I will."