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"Oh hey, didn't expect you to be working tonight."

"Well, I hear Keith," Kane didn't even bother pretending to look at the ID he'd been handed, for all he knew it could have said 'William Adler, President of Space Balloonland,' "finally broke up with that big creepy methed-out man-child everyone's been telling him not to date?"

"Oh yeah, what's his name?" Will accepted back the unregarded drivers license.

"No idea. But anyway, dating a bartender was the only reason he had this job, so I got called that there's a hole in the schedule. But never mind that-" Kane grinned and stretched, hands behind his head, really took advantage of the 'BOUNCER' shirt being at least half a size too small for him, "-where's your whole entourage? Pretty rare these days to see you out and about by yourself."

Will shrugged. "Murdoch and Tibbits are out of town, some convention I think. Nik's other polycule has a birthday party. And turns out Todd had an appointment with Sam to, let's say, 'further his education.'"

"Aw, that's sweet."

"One way to put it I guess."

"So you're saying," the wolf's half-smirk approached levels of sexual smugness heretofore thought only possible in theory, "that you could use some... company tonight?"

"We'll see," Will quirked an eyebrow, but he made sure Kane saw he'd checked him out--not that he needed to, they both knew that they both knew what the other had in their pants--"I know where to find you if I need you, Dunbar."

"I'll be expecting you, Adler."

Why had he come here?

He'd been nursing the dregs of this beer for an hour now. Just in that last hour he'd seen nine men get kissed, ten get a paw slid up their shirt, three get a paw down their pants, and five get led off to a bathroom stall.

He'd counted.

What else was there for him to do?

But himself? The red wolf might as well have been invisible. He should have stayed home, where there was no annoying music, no overpriced beer, and where he'd be no more alone than he was now.

What did he expect, though? How many times did he need to prove to himself that nobody would ever actually want-

"They having a funeral tonight, pup?"

He almost dropped his glass.

The coyote staring at him like he'd shown up to the poker tournament with a deck of Uno cards wore black jeans, standard-issue older-man-at-the-gay-bar flannel shirt, and suspenders that were probably leather. It was hard not to notice what he was wearing, because it was hard not to notice his chest, in the same way it is hard not to notice a mountain range. There had to be a full inch gap, between suspenders and shirt, on the underside of his pecs.

He suddenly realized he had been staring at this man's chest without responding for at least five seconds. "Uh...! What?" Why had he said that?! Brilliant wit there, Alvarez, good job.

"Well you're over here looking like somebody died, is all." The coyote helped himself to the space between Leo and the rest of the Stag, dropped a shot glass of something into his mug of dark ale and took a long drink.

"Uh, no sir, nobody's dead," at least it gave him time to think of a response, "I'm just lonely, yeah?"

"Lonely." The big coyote said, tone like a salt flat. He looked around, pointedly, at the room full of men with their faces buried against eachother, with clinking glasses, with hands raised in animated conversation shouted over the music, at the screens alternating between the code for the jukebox app and arguably-tasteful nude photos (at least a third Murdoch's work,) at the dancefloor over the railing below, crowded with considerably more men than shirts or even by now pants, at the pulsing lights carefully arranged to cycle through pride flag colors in the correct order, at pool tables and little corner of arcade cabinets that someone had hacked to play pornographic indie games, at the smell of alcohol and cologne, of sweat and arousal, of leather and desire and maybe a surreptitious whiff of poppers mingling promiscuously in the air.

The red wolf rubbed the back of his neck. "I guess, sir."

"Well, what're you planning on doing about it?"

"I, uh..." shit, there has to be something better than 'I don't know' he can say. "I dunno sir."

"Lotta friendly guys here," the coyote took another drink, wearing more casual paternal unconcern than he was clothing. "I can tell you from experience, it's not gonna take more than a 'hey there' to solve that... loneliness. Not in here."

"Nah sir," he shrugged. "They wouldn't want me."

"What's your name, Pup?"

"Uh, Leo, sir."

"And what was his name?"

Leo froze.

The coyote finished his boilermaker.

"How did you know there... had been someone?"

"If you'd just been too shy to hit on a guy," he explained, "then you would've shrunk back, sidled away, when I got in your personal space. But you stayed relaxed. So you're comfortable enough talking with someone. You only freaked out when I brought him up. You're perfectly capable of going and getting some dick if you wanted, but you don't, you want to get wanted yourself. Now that's a flooded market, but you don't really care. You didn't come here looking for a guy, you came here to feel sorry for yourself over the guy you lost and tell yourself that going home alone again is proof you're right to not move the hell on with your life. So." Jesus, it was like this coyote was reading his mind better than Leo could himself. "What was his name?"

Leo's ears lay back in surrender. "Chase, sir." He gulped till his voice cleared. "Only guy who ever wanted me..."

"Bit old to be still mooning over a first boyfriend, aren't you though?" The coyote examined the bar line critically and decided trying to get a second drink was more trouble than it was worth. "What was he like? And what makes you think he was your only shot, then?"

"Whu... what do you mean, sir?"

"You said if you hit on a guy 'they wouldn't want you.'" He asked like he was just trying to clear up a minor inconsistency in your testimony, sir, no need to be alarmed. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Well I dunno..." How the hell was he supposed to answer that? "We were friends as kids, we got together in high school when he came out, and like... we always thought, sir, that he'd move in with me, yeah? I had a home, a family business with a job for him... we thought we had the rest of our lives together figured out. Or maybe just I thought that, and he never told me he wasn't gonna till he just... didn't. He went off to college and left me here."

"Hardly uncommon to break up after high school, though."

"I dunno if we exactly broke up, sir, he just, well, it's complicated, yeah?"

"Which of you proposed?"

"What?"

"Whose idea was getting together, yours or his?"

"Uh, I think..." shit, that was a long way back to remember. "I asked him, sir."

"So the only relationship you ever had," the coyote, apparently satisfied, crossed arms across his chest, which somehow only made it look bigger, "was with an ultra-passive guy who never took the initiative and waited for you to make all the decisions as if you were supposed to see inside his head."

Leo's hackles bristled. "Hold up there-"

"And so now," the coyote continued smoothly, "you've got no idea how to start a relationship with somebody who'll act like a person, all you can do is stand around and wait for someone to take the initiative."

"What the fuck-"

"Am I wrong?" he barked.

Leo would have jumped back if he hadn't been against the wall.

Their eyes locked for a moment. The coyote had leaned forward, lowered his head, like he was about to charge.

"Sir, you don't know what-"

"I do, though." He relaxed back again, apparently satisfied and calm again, "Cause we've been talking about this guy you're still not over for maybe ten minutes, and you still haven't said anything about what he was LIKE. Just the future that YOU expected to have with him."

The music continued, the dancing didn't stop, the somewhat-tasteful nudes on the screens carried on with their business.

But Leo felt like the world had ceased to exist and then started up again.

"Listen, I'm gonna grab another drink, now the bar's calmed the hell down. You want one too? Then stay put and wait patient, I guess." The tall coyote didn't wait for an answer, just shouldered his way through the crowd like a ship parting the waves, assuming waves occasionally flirted with or playfully groped passing ships.

"Wait!" Leo suddenly realized, "Wait, sir, you didn't tell me your name! Sir?"

But he was already too far away, the room too loud, to hear him.

"Busy night, Keith?"

"Yeah," the mellow-eyed fox began pulling him a pair of beers. "But it's good keeping busy, man."

"Yeah, I heard about you'n... what was his name?"

"Doesn't matter!" the bartender laughed bitterly. "Thanks for not saying you told me so, I've already heard plenty of that. Serves me right for thinking I could fucking fix him."

"Well," Will offered, "it could've ended a lot worse, I suppose."

"I suppose."

"Say," Will coughed to change the subject. "You know anything about this Leo guy? Up in the corner there?"

"Seen him a couple times," Keith explained. "Quiet, keeps to himself. Never seen him arrive or leave with anybody. Never caused any trouble, but always had a vibe like he might someday, you know?"

"Sounds like there was a breakup he's not over yet."

"Huh," Kieth nodded in the red wolf's direction, though he probably couldn't have seen from back there. "Know how it feels, Buddy."

"You take care there," Will collected the drinks and turned to go.

"You too."

"You waited, Pup." The coyote sounded pleasantly surprised.

"Well," Leo furrowed his brow, "you told me to, yeah?"

"Ain't that interesting?" Judging by the coyote's expression, this surprise was only growing more pleasant.

Leo usually hated feeling confused, but this was a refreshingly different kind of confusion. This wasn't like someone was about to chew him out for not knowing something that they didn't tell him. This was like someone was waiting for the right time to spring a surprise party.

He didn't have to wait long, it turned out.

"So," the coyote said after they'd both had a moment to get to know the beer (which Leo couldn't say what it was but it was better than whatever he'd ordered,) "I got curious. What'd happen if I looked you in the eyes and told you to get on your knees?"

The immediate consequences of this question were that the wolf choked on his beer, but that probably wasn't a relevant answer.

"You can't just ask-" he finally managed to sputter.

"I didn't ask." The coyote had shifted closer, while Leo had been distracted. "And I won't ask," his body was close enough that Leo could smell him, whatever cologne or soap, sure, but also just him. He smelled clean, and sweaty, musky, very male. "I said, 'what if I TOLD you to get on your knees?'"

"I..." Leo felt the instinct to back away, but he didn't for some reason, just let the big coyote come closer. "I dunno, sir."

"See, I think I can guess what you'd do," the coyote advanced another half step, and his torso made contact with Leo's unsuspecting hand, "you wanna know how I know?" He let one foot rest, firmly but not roughly, on top of Leo's.

"Why sir?" For some reason Leo was whispering.

"Because I never told you to call me 'Sir.'"

Oh.

Leo's mouth tried to say 'you didn't tell me your name at all what else was I supposed to call you' and 'well I work at an auto mechanic I deal with customers all day calling men 'sir' is just force of habit' and 'wait you really were into me I thought I was going crazy' and 'puchica tengo muchas ganas de chupartela' and 'what?' all at the same time, but the "What?!" was the only thing that made it out.

"Isn't this," the coyote didn't seem surprised, and also didn't stop slowly crowding forward, "what you came here for?"

"Not like this, though!"

"Then like how?"

"I... I dunno, sir!"

"Still calling me 'Sir,' I see."

"I..." Leo fought to keep from whimpering, "I don't know what to do."

"For once," the coyote grinned, and he was close enough that Leo could feel his words on his whiskers, "You don't gotta know what to do. You don't have to make any of the decisions. You don't have to worry about the future. You can just do as you're told, and enjoy it."

"But that's... that's bad, yeah? That's the kinda hookup they warn you about."

"Maybe," The coyote tilted his head, and Leo caught himself just in time to keep from nuzzling his neck by pure reflex. "But I think anything, after the way you've been living, would be a step up. And I don't think you think it's as bad as you think you do."

"...why sir?"

"Because you're hard as a railspike."

The wolf risked a glance down.

How long had this man had a paw on his crotch without him even noticing?

"Maybe you don't realize," he'd been pulled fully into the coyote's arms, and it didn't occur to Leo to object when he found his face pressed against that chest, "but I can see you're desperate for somebody to be responsible for you. Someone to let you let go. Someone to want you."

"You're not wrong, sir." Leo gulped.

The coyote barely had to move his snout to whisper into Leo's ear: "This is the part where you get on your knees."

Time seemed to have frozen.

"On your knees, pup."

Some men would expect to be surprised, even angry, to hear an order like that.

Instead when Leo slid down to the floor, felt the hard planks dig into his knees, it seemed inevitable.

Like... what else could he have done, yeah?

"Good boy," said the man towering over him and running one hand over the back of his ears. He pressed, more nudged, and the wolf's nose bumped the crotch of his jeans. "You know what to do with this?"

"Yessir," Leo gulped.

"I figured." The coyote released Leo's head to finish his beer, but still Leo kept his muzzle against crotch, his cheek against thigh. "You look top, and dress top, and try your best to act top, but I'd bet you've spent more time on the bottom than not."

"I mean..." Leo didn't see any reason to fight the blush creeping up his ears, "he smelled really good, sir."

"You like how a man smells, huh?" It sounded like this was good news. The button was undone, the fly came down, casually, without hurry. He seemed to be reveling in the audacity, basking in his ability to do something like this, that a place where he could do this existed. "Here you go, pup, get a good whiff."

Leo offered no resistance when the tip of his muzzle was guided in through the open fly, hell, how strong was this coyote, if he could hold the back of his head so firmly with just one paw?

"That's a good boy, pup. Huff it a bit, get used to it."

He sniffed, tentatively, and immediately wanted more. He didn't just want to get used to it, he wanted to memorize it.

There was no way to say how long he'd been on his knees, breathing this man's fumes, feeling them dissolve his concerns. It might have been hours, it might have been less than half a minute, but inevitably the coyote released him, slid suspenders from his himalaya-like shoulders, and pulled his fly down and open. What emerged was wrapped in a jockstrap, tight and soft, so dark green it was almost black, and dark enough to be black where fluid had soaked the foremost tip of the bulge.

In reality, it was probably not significantly larger than any other cock in this building right now. But from this angle, this close, it looked enormous.

Urges and appetites that Leo hadn't honestly ever expected to feel again had all but conquered him, but he still had just enough presence of mind to say "Sir, what if someone..." his eyes darted to the side, toward the rest of the Stag. "What if someone sees?"

"Then they'll see what a good boy you are." And he pulled aside the jockstrap pouch.

Leo surrendered.

"Mmmm... oh yeah, that's it pup." The coyote stroked Leo's face, ran a hand under his chin as he began sucking gently--it had been a long time since he'd practiced, after all--and he tasted so goddamn good. He tasted reliable, tasted strong and firm, he tasted like he didn't need Leo but that he wouldn't mind if Leo started to need him. He tasted like not being the one who had to protect everyone, because you'd be protected for once. He tasted like not having to worry about what to do, because you'd be told what to do. "I'm Will, by the way... but you go ahead and keep calling me Sir."