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Prologue & Chapter 1

A JACKED Story

Prologue

Shaw

The night was meant to be one of the few that Liam and Shaw were going to be able to spend together uninterrupted. A major project at work had finally finished and Shaw's boss had given him the rest of the Friday off. No major videogames were out and the 25-year-old bear was taking a break after the lasted patch from Domain of Doom, the 12-year-old MMORPG that had spawned multiple spin-offs and even a movie.

It was just meant to be just the two of them.

But when Shaw pushed open the door and stepped into their Midtown apartment, he caught the loud squeal of someone orgasming. For one, beautiful, innocent second, he thought that it was just Liam pleasuring himself in the bedroom. Between videogames and work, Shaw rarely had time to be intimate with his long-term boyfriend and it was an ongoing joke between them on how many times Shaw would catch the skunk curled up on the bed post orgasm.

This time was different though.

This time, traffic had been much better and he had shaved 15 minutes off his commute.

This time, Shaw's boss had been generous and let him go home at noon.

This time, Shaw had taken the time to grab some flowers on the way home - lilacs and lavender, Liam's favorite - hoping to surprise his boyfriend.

This time… he had actually caught them.

Shaw stood in the doorway of their bedroom, the bouquet of flowers dropping from his paws as he stared in horror as the Dalmatian desperately tried to pull out of his boyfriend's ass. It would have been comedic especially since the canine had tied with the skunk were it not for his shattered and broken heart.

In the string of apologies that followed afterwards, Shaw remembered only saying two words.

“Get out."

That was two weeks ago.

Somehow, fourteen days - 336 hours - had passed since that soul-crushing moment. Shaw barely had gotten off the couch. Liam was gone that first night but Shaw couldn't bring himself to wash the linen and move to the bed. That was where they did it, after all. His phone had stopped buzzing from various messages from friends and family. The only time it broke the darkness of his apartment was when there was a notification that the food he had ordered had arrived.

It was in the midst of waiting for his Chicken Pad Thai that a new notification popped up.

It was from Howler. An old application that he had from before he had met Liam about two years ago. People generously called it a 'dating app' but really, people just used it to hook up with one another. He never bothered to delete it. Maybe there was something to Liam's accusations that he was neglectful and self-involved.

The little silhouette of a howling wolf intrigued him though and for the first time in two weeks, Shaw Reilly got up from his couch and opened the app.

Somehow, he had matched with a guy by the name of 'SilverRyder69'. His throat immediately went dry as the images on the profile were simply stunning. Impossible to tell what species but the guy was ripped, muscular and certainly knew how to work a camera. Flexing arms, chiseled abdominals and even a funny little video of him bouncing his pecs - covered in mahogany-red fur with a light dusting of silver hair - to the tune of a popular song.

Looks and Rhythm, Shaw mused.

He had to wonder why the guy would be interested in him and, out of some morbid curiosity, he swiped to accept the invitation. It was at that moment that he recalled that this was a profile he had created for himself two years and about 40 pounds ago.

Then SilverRyder sent the first message.

“Hey there, cutie. What decade do you want your pick-up line from?"

Again, he was intrigued.

“How about this decade?" he asked.

SilverRyder barely waited before he responded. “Damn, was hoping you'd say something at least a decade ago because, full-disclosure, the 'silver' in my name is more accurate than I'd like to admit."

Shaw sat up and regarded his phone in surprise. Despite himself and his two-week-long bout of post-breakup depression, he was smiling.

“You can't be that old. You look great!" he responded.

“Why don't you come down and see for yourself?"

It was at that moment that Shaw realized he had just fallen for the very pickup line he had asked for and smacked his own forehead for having fallen for the trick. Still, he was smiling bigger than he had in weeks.

“Damn. You got me," he admitted. “But full disclosure, I made this account two years ago and I haven't really updated it."

“Now you have me interested," answered SilverRyder. “But there must be a reason you're spending a Friday night responding to messages from a total stranger on a hookup-app."

A total stranger… but someone that had made him smile for the first time in weeks. Shaw didn't want to scare him off. At the same time, it was just the shot in the arm he needed to finally make a change from the stagnant apartment he was sitting in. In fact, as he sat there on the couch, he became acutely aware that his living space was very… rank.

“Where and when?" asked Shaw.

Joel

“JACKED. I'll send you the address."

A stool was pulled from atop the bar where Joel Rockham was leaning, forcing the bull to look up from his phone.

“Setting up your hook-up for the night?" teased his friend and co-owner of the club, Amos Klein.

“As a matter of fact, I am, Coach," he replied, teasing Amos back with the nickname he and the rest of his friends had given the resident bodybuilder and the guy who worked security at the gay bar that they owned together, JACKED. The dragon rolled his eyes at him, red scales glimmering in the light as the rest of the guys worked on opening up for the evening. He shuffled over to Amos, draped a thick arm around the muscled reptile's shoulders and showed him the profile of GaymerBear44.

“This cute teddy bear is coming over tonight," he bragged. The polar bear bucked the stereotype of most bears by being a little on the thinner side. Not beefy, bulky or fat but with striking black hair that contrasted well against his creamy, white fur. Unlike Joel who preferred to keep his face out of his profile pics, GaymerBear44 was liberal about showing off his cute, grinning features, full of life and vibrancy. That was really what really caught Joel's attention.

Most of the guys who hit him up on Howler were thirsty dicks who drooled over his chiseled body, immediately called him 'daddy' and went out of their way to boast about their own looks. Joel 'Rocker' Rockham had opted to swipe away from those kinds of people more often than not. If he was itching for people to worship him and just pump one out, then maybe he'd go for it but he preferred to bed someone who was as attentive to him as they were to their own bodies. He couldn't count how many times he went home with a guy as built and ripped as him only to have said guy use him for their own daddy fantasies. They got off but he was left with a boner and no way to get off as that guy didn't have the stamina to keep up.

Being 44 meant that he was very much a 'silver bull' but many - including the other co-owners of JACKED commented he looked like he was in his thirties. After all, it was thanks to Amos 'Coach' Klein that everyone that had a stake in the bar was as fit as they were.

Speaking of Amos… the dragon frowned at him. “Dude…" Amos took the phone and poked the most recent photo. “… this guy hasn't posted anything in the past two years. You sure this is safe?"

“He replied," answered Joel. “And he seemed genuine."

“You sure the profile wasn't hacked and some scammer from across the Pacific isn't using it to get your details?" Amos gestured behind him. “Maybe you should have Erick look at it first?"

Erick Alcan was the wizard behind JACKED's website, all the electronics in the bar and the 'E' in the club's name. Unfortunately, the lupine was not a night-person and had the morning shift and alongside Dorian made up the 'morning shift'. The two of them actually had high paying jobs but still contributed to the bar. They have little crossover except for Sundays when they swore they would keep the bar closed and they hung out together. The rest of the guys - Cash, Killian, Amos and Joel himself - made up the evening shift and ran JACKED.

“If I made it to my age and didn't know one scam from another, I should be ashamed," huffed Joel. “Besides, I invited him here." He gave his scaly friend a light punch to the shoulder, the fur on his knuckles brushing against the annoyingly tight-mesh fabric of Amos' muscle shirt. This caused some of his fur to get caught in the mesh. Pulling away made a very slight sting as the follicles were tugged. Such garments were made for those without fur which was a reason why Amos kept himself shaved meticulously. Left to his own devices, Amos would be quite hirsute.

That was saying something for a dragon.

Coach - as many of their regulars referred to him - turned and took down another of the bar stools off the table. Taut, rippling muscles moving with graceful ease that stirred Joel's loins. As fun as it would be to have fun with the dragon and he could brush it off as a 'warm up' for his date, he recalled how… passionate his friend could get when they worked out. Joel considered himself a very enthusiastic guy but Amos took it to another level. They often joked that every time one of the guys slept with Amos, they would be wouldn't be walking for a week.

If they were lucky.

“Just don't slack off tonight, okay?" Amos growled at him, baring his fangs and flashing that one, golden tooth he had. “We've got this bachelor party coming in and it's going to be a wild one from what I heard."

The words 'bachelor party' and 'wild' one immediately triggered Joel's alarms. “Oh shit…" he groaned, ears folding down and his broad shoulders slouching. “You don't mean…"

“Yep." Amos popped his lips at the 'p'. “Guess who's getting married. Again."

Hank Styles was a mutual friend of their and was a regular at JACKED. He was also a regular at the altar. In the ten years since they had opened the bar, Hank had been married five times. He had found 'the one' at least twenty times or more in the very same bar. Famously indecisive and flamboyant, Hank was a character that Joel loved as a friend and a patron but knew he could never actually love as a partner.

“I'll get the expensive booze," Joel groaned, rising from his seat. “Be back in a jiffy."

“Don't forget this wedding's 'theme drink'."

He grinned at his friend at at exactly the same time, they said, 'Vodka, with a shot of maraschino cherry juice, salt on the rim and a creme saver at the bottom of the glass!'

Chapter 1

Shaw

Shaw had never been to JACKED before even though his ex - Liam - had always insisted they go. After reading the reviewes, it became clear that JACKED was a gay bar for gay men of particular tastes - those being men who were ripped, built and regularly went to the gym. This made him reconsider meeting SilverRyder69 at such a place.

But he had decided that it was about time he got off his ass and actually did something to get over the heartbreak that weighed heavily on his soul. So he dressed in a black shirt - because black is slimming - loose, dark green cargo pants and shaved so that he didn't look like such a wreck. Natural black hair tended to poke out past the creamy-white fur of the polar bear so he spent probably too long meticulously clipping individual hairs on his face while avoiding creating any bald patches. After weeks of barely leaving his apartment, his scraggly hair was a mess and he tried to style it as best as he could before deciding he would need a haircut after all this was over.

As he stood there in the mirror of his apartment, he was once again struck by worry, his green eyes wavering behind his glasses. The gravity of his pronounced belly drew his gaze to the paunch that was barely hidden by his shirt. There was no hiding that he was overweight. The black just made it seem a little less… pudgy. Perhaps in the dark of a bar, it wouldn't be so bad and someone would mistake his meaty forearms as muscle and not the result of an overabundance of Thai food and unhealthy snacks.

Is this such a good idea?

Shaw slapped his cheeks and inhaled sharply.

“No," he told his reflection. “This is good. You're going to a bar. You're going to meet up with a hot guy. Even if he rejects you, you're taking the first step to getting over Liam." He grinned at himself and then noticed that he still had a bit of Thai Basil - Holy Basil to some - stuck in his fangs. He quickly brushed his teeth, gargled some mouthwash, checked that his breath was fine and then gargled again. Pad Thai sauce - particularly the one he got from his favorite restaurant - was notoriously aromatic.

Satisfied that he was casual enough and cleaned up enough, he grabbed his keys from where they hung on a hook beside the front door and hooked the key chain - yes, he still used a thick, silver, metal key chain - to his belt. He drove his modest electric car all the way to where JACKED was built - right in the middle of the city's entertainment district nestled between a movie theater and a Bavarian restaurant. There was a large outdoor rink positioned in front of the bar but this being a weeknight, it was not populated.

Parking was ample - if a little expensive - but it was only a short walk to the bar which appeared to be in full swing. The restaurant had closed and it seemed that patrons had migrated over. Clever positioning in that regard.

As he entered, he was surprised to find that the whole place was not as dimly lit as he'd expect a bar to be. Lights were quite bright and there was a lot of glitter everywhere. It soon became apparent why. There appeared to be a bachelor party in full swing and the would-be-groom - a thin cougar who was dressed in a black sports jacket, white shirt and shockingly short denim cut-offs - was currently handing out bright pink drinks in margarita glasses loudly exclaiming, 'I'm getting married! Drinks on me!'

Shaw made sure to put as much distance from him as possible and made his way to the bar. The stools were mostly empty given that most of the patrons were crowding around the groom either congratulating him or trying to grab the free cocktails. There he sat down and quickly fished out his phone.

“I'm here," he announced to SilverRyder69.

He waited a full thirty seconds, his breath held in his throat. When his lungs began to burn, he looked up and gazed around the bar, wondering if his date was somewhere around here. His eyes went to the bouncer, a big, burly, red-scaled dragon who was carefully watching the entire bar with steely, blue-gray eyes.

Could that be him…?

No. The guy in the photo clearly had fur.

Then his gaze went to the DJ who was up on the sound stage. The otter had brown fur much like the guy on the photo but his fur was a little lighter. Said otter had his shirt off and had his chiseled abs on full display, Shaw wondered if that was SilverRider… though he seemed a little young for someone that was supposedly older.

There were a few other guys in the bar that caught his gaze but none of them matched. Even the big bull bartender looked a little young. The poor guy was spinning and cooking up cocktails with a skill and precision that he found mesmerizing. There was grace in every movement and even though few were paying attention to what he was doing as all eyes were on the groom, he still put on a show.

Now that's passion.

That moment of introspection reminded him of his supposed date and he glanced at his phone. Still no reply. Not even a sign that his message had been read.

Did he get stood up?

Did SilverRyder69 actually see him and decide to bail?

Had he been scammed?

“You look like you could use a drink."

Shaw's heart jumped to his throat and he turned to his left… only for his heart to come plummeting down again. The man seated next to him did not have brown fur. In fact, the lupine had jet-black fur with a white pattern on his jaw. The only brown follicle on his body came from his hair and goatee. Props for his dress sense, though, as he was clothed in a sharp suit looking like he had just finished a shift at a nine-to-five job.

“Sorry," he mumbled meekly. “I don't -"

The wolf gave him a side-long glance, a sly smile appearing on his muzzle. “Relax. I'm not here to pick you up. Just making a casual observation." He had one of those pink martinis in his paws. Shaw noticed that the wolf's claws glimmered in the brightly lit bar. Clear signs of a manicure. The same man took a sip from the martini and then winced, turning around and setting it on the bar. “Have you tried one of these yet?"

Shaw shook his head, physically leaning back as far away from the boozy beverage as he could. “No. I don't drink."

“Would be a poor introduction into the vast world of alcohol. It tastes like a boozy strawberry Jollyrancher," grimaced the well-dressed wolf. He turned towards Shaw and held out a paw. “Damon Rich."

He took the offered paw and shook it. “Shaw Feng." As they shook paws, he noticed the wolf's fur was well conditioned, smooth, silky. This was a man who had a clear maintenance regimen. Judging by the suit he wore that almost perfectly matched his fur color and pattern, Damon was clearly someone who paid attention to how he appeared.

“So what brings you here today, Mr. Feng?" asked the lupine, taking a sip from the strawberry-pink drink. Damon immediately shut his eyes, visibly grimaced and looked like he was seriously considering spitting out the fluid in his muzzle. Shaw could swear he could see the globule of alcohol hovering against the wolf's Adam's Apple where it hung for a few seconds before Damon finally decided to swallow. “If there was ever a drink that screamed 'I wish Barbie had a dick', this would be it."

Shaw couldn't help but snort a little laugh. “That bad, huh?"

“Absolutely awful. Props to Joel who somehow managed to make this." Damon lifted his glass towards the bartender, drawing Shaw's eyes once again to the dancing and acrobatic bull. “I know he wouldn't have done it willingly unless it was for the groom."

Turning towards the bar, Shaw tilted his head to the side, having to adjust his glasses a little as they slipped slightly down his muzzle. “You know the groom?"

“Hank Styles," sighed Damon with his dark brown eyes closed in a half-lidded, exasperated stare. “This would be his… sixth wedding, I think."

The sheer number made Shaw do a double take and stare at Damon for any signs of humor. There were none. So his jaw just dropped open in shock.

“S - Sixth?" he stammered.

“Sixth in the past ten years. And he's only just turning thirty." Damon glanced over to Shaw and gravity immediately brought the polar bear's gaze down to the ground to avoid those intense, brown eyes. “Of course that's only the marriages we know about. He tends to host his bachelor parties here at JACKED."

Glancing towards the cougar who was now dancing without his jacket at the center of the room with two martini glasses in his paws, Shaw asked, “Why?"

“Why is he getting married for the sixth time or why is he celebrating his bachelor partied here?"

Shaw wasn't the type of person to poke into people's personal lives but when one of those bright pink drinks were suddenly pushed into his paws by someone, he felt he was owed answered. “Both, I guess."

Damon shrugged absently. “You'd have to ask him. There are other gay bars in town but there are few of them whose owners are six guys who put an emphasis on making sure they look big, buff and purposefully put themselves on display." With the martini glass elegantly in his paws, Damon gestured at the DJ otter. That same otter let out a holler and then did a double-bicep flex for the crowd. Cheers rang up across the dance floor. “Of course, JACKED has more to offer than the incredibly hot owners. It's very inclusive."

The wolf gestured towards the door where that red dragon bouncer was bobbing his head to the music. “Amos up there lets anyone in. Having a six-pack is not mandatory. Though he might be biased. He does have a dick after all."

Shaw puzzled what that last statement meant until it dawned on him that Damon was implying that Amos the bouncer would only let people who were attractive through the door… and that Damon was calling him attractive despite his appearance. Blushing deeply, Shaw pressed his fingers together, the martini glass sitting between his paws, and began drumming claws together.

“Anyway," Damon began, “you never answered my question. What brings you here?"

Surprised at his own lack of attentiveness, Shaw set down the glass on the bar and fished out his phone. SilverRyder had yet to reply… let alone see it.

Did he get into an accident? Did I get the times wrong?

He felt Damon's muzzle hover over his shoulder.

“Oh," quipped the suited wolf. “I know that guy."

Shaw glanced over to the wolf with a grimace. “Really…? Is he the kind of guy that would stand up a guy like me?"

“Absolutely not," answered Damon, holding up a paw. “In fact, he was the one that made you that drink."

Shaw's eyes turned back towards the dance floor, towards the groom. His heart started beating really fast and traveling up his throat. If he could vomit it up, he would have done so with the force of a medieval ballista just so that he could have some form of distraction so he could leave the bar as quickly as possible.

I am not going to be some groom's last hookup before he ties the knot!

He feared that with someone as flighty and eager for marriage as Hank Styles, he could very well be the cause of the groom's failed marriage.

Then, Damon's warm paws gently grabbed his head and turn him a little further away from the dance floor and towards the bar… towards the bull that was currently holding a shaker bottle in one hand over his head and pouring its contents into a tall glass on the bar.

His heart began beating rapidly for another reason.

The lights from all around the bar shone against the multitude of colorful bottles of booze standing beside the bull. The bar was one of those where there were LED lights built into the back walls, shifting and dancing to the music so that the myriad of colors danced through the bottles. Against such a backdrop, the bull's glistening, muscular body had figurative fireworks of light erupting behind him. Time seemed to slow. Every drop of whatever booze the bull was pouring into that glass glimmered like liquid diamonds, forming a parallel of how all the blood was rushing from Shaw's brain straight to his cock.

“Oh… my…" he gasped.

A sharp whistle from his right made him jump. It was Damon with two fingers in his muzzle. “Hey! Joel! Over here!"

Panic struck like lightning. If ever there was a moment to suddenly discover he could stop time or turn invisible on command, this was it. Wide-eyed and a deer stuck in the headlights, he could do nothing until the big bull's brown eyes turned towards him and a broad grin spread across a broad, masculine muzzle which clearly defined jowls that only made him look all the more intimidating. The bartender somehow managed to lift one finger while still in the middle of his performance.

Good! I have one second to disappear and -

The bull's thick, muscled forearm thunked against the bar inches away from his fingers. Heat radiated from the tightly corded muscles. Strong cologne that hit first with a strong, lemony twang followed by a mellow musky note and ended with a lingering woody odor hit Shaw like a bat to the face. A cartoonish version of himself was sitting in the stool, missing three teeth, grinning idiotically while a combination of stars and blue birds were swirling around his head.

“Hey, what can I getcha?" rumbled the bull, his voice velvety smooth and not at all what he would expect from someone with a neck as thick as his leg.

“How about some of your time?" Damon asked, lifting his brown eyebrows. “Especially for a new patron to your bar?" The wolf grasped Shaw's shoulder and gently shook him. “I believe you have a date with this cute little button here, SilverRyder69."

Joel's thick eyebrows rose as his hazelnut brown eyes turned to appraise Shaw.

“GaymerBear44?"

Once again, gravity caused Shaw's gaze to drop downwards. The focus of his gaze hit the floor right between his legs but the impact was so hard that it bounced, lifting upwards just high enough to peek at Joel's huge, juicy pectorals poking out from beneath the bartender's apron. His eyes were forced back down by the forces of nature and again, it bounced. Too late did he realize that there was more to his drifting leering - he was nodding.

“Check your phone, dumbass!" Damon bellowed. Somehow, he had obtained Shaw's phone and was showing it to the bull bartender. “This is meant to be your date!"

Joel fished out his own phone and slapped his forehead in surprise. “Oh shit! I'm so sorry! I'm Joel Rockham."

Shaw lifted his paws, keeping his gaze down. “Shaw Feng. And… It's okay," he mumbled softly but loud enough for Joel to hear. “I guess you're busy. Let's just do this another time."

Huge hands wrapped around his own, holding them together almost like he was forcing him into a prayer. “Please, I'm the asshole here," Joel pleaded. “I totally forgot about Hanks' party. I was hoping for a low-key night so we could hang out here. Please stay."

Then Joel's features beamed brightly and he straightened. He hiked a thumb over his shoulder. Whether it was a genuine gesture towards the rows of alcohol behind him or an excuse to flex his bicep, Shaw wasn't sure but he didn't mind.

“How about I make you a drink? Totally on the house."

Shaw's lips pulled back into a line. “I don't drink."

The bull's expression dropped as did his arm. “Seriously?"

“I just never acquired a taste for it… I hate the taste of alcohol."

Damon let out a coy whistle, his tail wagging behind him. “Ooooh, you two make such a cute couple. The bartender dating hooking up with the guy that hates alcohol. I'll pay for your story."

Joel gave the wolf a heated stare, lips pulled back in a scowl. “Fuck on, Damon. Why don't you go tell Hank what you really think about his newest future-husband?"

The black wolf tilted his head back and drank the rest of the cocktail in his paws before slamming the martini glass down. He swallowed but then pulled open his muzzle into a grin, showing the red-and-white swirled candy that had been sitting at the bottom of the glass between his fangs. Damon's tongue flicked the candy to his cheek as he slapped the table with his paws and sat up.

“You know what? I think I will!" He then turned with a flourish and swaggered to the dance floor. “Hey Hank, you lucky son-of-a-bitch! Show me that single ass one-last-time-for-the-sixth-time!"

Shaw watched the invasive but well-meaning wolf disappear into the crowd. “Is he going to be okay?"

“He'll be fine," Joel sighed. “Damon is a cynical son-of-a-bitch but he's meant to be. He's an investment consultant. He tells people what to throw their money on and it's his job to be critical and an asshole."

“I meant about him going to the groom like that? He sounds drunk."

Joel rolled his eyes and waved a hand in a limp-wristed away at him. “The scary part is that he's not drunk at all. I've seen Damon drink each of us under the table consecutively. That guy may seem like he's got a skinny ass but he's got the constitution of a brewer that was born in a vat of beer and grew to maturity bathing in wine."

The bull leaned down towards him, the bull's breath wafting against Shaw's fur. The bear fought off the urge to turn back and lock gazes with his supposed 'hook up' and kept it fixated at the crowd pretending to be concerned about Damon.

“So you really don't like booze of any kind?"

“No. I just… never saw the appeal and when I did try it, I didn't like the taste."

A thoughtful hum followed then there was a soft clinking of glass. That series of noises finally got his attention and he turned back towards the bar. Joel was back to work mixing a new drink. Shaw's gaze dropped towards the bar.

Got to be a world record. Bored my date and struck out within fifteen minutes.

A little shot glass filled with a brown mixture slid across the bar, sitting square in the middle of his field of vision. Lifting his eyes, he met Joel's gaze for the first time… and found himself lost in those golden-brown eyes.

“Give this a shot," Joel said, pointing some fingerguns at him and firing them. “Pun intended. It's base of Irish Creme, some chocolate liquor and just a little bit of Guinness. Best I can describe it is a boozy Tootsie Roll."

“I don't…" he began but then swallowed his words and grasped the shot glass. Having never partaken in any drinks before but seen how people take shots, he opened his muzzle wide, tipped his head back and then tipped the shot down his throat. He shut his eyes, bracing for the worst. Sure enough, the bitterness of the chocolate hit first followed by the malty taste of the Guinness. The smooth, creaminess of the Irish Cream rounded it off before ending with the familiar, boozy twang of alcohol.

Shaw's lips twisted in disgust though he tried to force a smile. There was no hiding the shudder in his shoulders though.

“It's… good…" he coughed, feeling the aroma of alcohol lingering on his breath.

Joel pursed his lips to the left of his muzzle. “Alright. Sounds like I'm going to have to try something else."

Before Shaw could protest, the bull was throwing together another drink. Within a few minutes, he was pushing another shot glass in his direction. This time, it was a milky brown brew with a swirl of whipped cream and flecks of chocolate floating on top.

“Try this. Vodka, chocolate syrup, a dash of cherry extract and mixed with some cherry jam and just a little bit of a whipped cream and chocolate flakes. Think of it as a black forest cake in liquid form."

Having been taught never to turn down free food - because there were starving children in the world that would be grateful for the opportunity, as per his mother - he took the drink and, like before, drank it. To Joel's credit, the chocolate was the more prevalent flavor and with the whipped cream mellowing it out. The jabs of cherry were a surprise. Then came the all-too familiar hit of alcohol and his tongue curled in his muzzle like a cobra thrashing out at everything around it.

“It's…"

“No good," hummed Joel, crossing his arms with an intense focus in his eyes. “Alright. You are not leaving this bar until I find a drink you like! Stay put! Be back in a jiffy!"

“I… Uhm…"

He wasn't sure if the alcohol was already affecting him or he was inspired by Joel's confidence, aura, appearance and energy but he was grateful to have an excuse to spend some time with the bartender. Even if it was just being served booze.

The faintest quiver of a smile crawled onto his muzzle.

“Okay," he squeaked.

Joel

One of the major problems about owning JACKED was the fact that the six owners were often working in the very same bar that they enjoyed. They never really could take a day off since they made up half of the staff. Vinnie, the backup bartender, would be over in a few minutes to help Joel out but for the moment, he was flying solo. Keeping the cute Shaw entertained while he was serving the rest of the bar which not only had Hank's bachelor party to contend with but also their normal Thursday-night patrons, was a juggling act and a challenge he really wasn't expecting this evening.

But he liked a challenge.

Another patron caught his attention as he pushed another drink towards Shaw. “Be back in a jiffy," he told the timid little bear and padded over to the other patrons. With drinks having been provided earlier on the request of Hank, there were less exotic requests for the bar. As he went down the line, he was cracking open beers, handing them over, scanning cards, taking cash and, of course, doing a little bit of showmanship here and there. He couldn't help but pop the cap off one beer bottle with an artfully placed bottle opener and a flex of his bicep. The crowd loved it. He could feel Shaw leering at him and made sure to flex his back at the bear just to remind him that they were going to hook up later.

Finally, he made his way to the target of his wandering.

“Got your buzz yet, Sam?" he asked, leaning down towards the wolf.

Samuel Royce looked up from the tablet that he was scribbling upon, gazing up at him through glasses that had no optometric value whatsoever but added to his 'struggling artist' persona. Sam, much like Damon, was a regular at JACKED but where Damon was this cynical, six-figure-making marketer, Sam was fresh out of college and a freelance artist. Many times, Damon has offered to hire Sam to do some promotional posters. Sam never took the job but did offer the work for free. There was some sort of weird game happening between the two where Sam liked lauding over his talent over Damon despite living in a single bedroom apartment and barely living from one day to the other based on what he could earn from his commissions. Of course, Sam still made enough to order a drink or two and dye the temples of his black hair golden blond consistently.

“Ah, my muse is sadly being a fickle bitch this evening," sighed the wolf, gesturing at the beer he was nursing. Beside that was the cocktail that Hank had created especially for this event and Joel had the honor of bringing to life. The bull felt like Frankenstein putting together his monster over and over again after pumping out so many orders of that abomination.

“Doesn't help that I kind of feel like Hank's drink is going to rot my fangs," Sam continued. He ran his tongue over his teeth. “Is it okay to feel like your teeth are fuzzy after taking a sip?"

“Considering the amount of sugar I was asked to put in this thing?" laughed Joel. He reached over to Sam drink, gripping the thin neck of the glass and spinning it a few times. It did not look any more appealing after a few twists. “Probably."

“Why did you even agree to make it?"

“Same reason you draw tits and vaginal penetration," he answered with a grin, rubbing his thumb and fingers together. “Hank pays really well."

“How?" blurted Sam. “After five marriages and the divorces that followed, I'm honestly surprised that he still have money to spend on bachelor parties!"

It honestly surprised Joel that Hank even had people that still attended his bachelor parties. Money was not an issue. Hank Styles made a lot of smart investments and ran his own business. None of his prior marriages ever had any children involved and had ironclad prenups so more often than not, Hank came out of it better. To the cougar's credit, he was never at fault. It just so happens that the men he attracts or that he claims to fall in love with were trash.

“So who is the cute cola that you were talking to?" Sam asked, using the moniker given to polar bears - a call out to the old days when Coca Cola had a polar bear as their mascot.

“My hook up this evening, believe it or not," answered Joel with a grin. When he turned back towards Shaw, he immediately saw the bear turn away. Though it was clear that Shaw was still peering at them from the corner of his eyes. He waved and that little twitch of the bear's rounded ears was enough to tell him that bespectacled bear was paying attention.

“Not really your normal choice of paramour," observed Sam, reverting to using flowery poetic words. He was that kind of artist. “What made you change your palette? Finally deciding to settle down?"

Joel blew a raspberry and rolled his eyes. “Come on, man. You know no one can tame this bull!" He jabbed a thumb at his chest.

Sam didn't respond for a moment, tapping the underside of his chin with the graphic pen thoughtfully while his deep, blue eyes were appraising Shaw through the crowd. The faintest smile curled the edges of his lips.

“We all know that it'll be impossible the survive the gauntlet that is JACKED," mused the wolf. “Between taking in all this…" He gestured with his pen at Joel. “An aspirant will have to make it through the physically demanding monster that is Amos, Cash's 'experiments', Killian's dramatic view of the world, a thorough probing from Erick and…"

They locked gazes and, in unison, they simply said, “Cash."

Together they shared a laugh and Joel straightened. “Yeah well, that's why none of us are out there celebrating our bachelor party. Getting attached to one of us basically means you'll be marrying all six of us."

“Some would call that a cult," Sam snickered. “But if this world is so keen on redefining the norms, I don't see why you can't have a family with six dads." He quirked an eyebrow at Joel. “Or is it just one dad and six randy sons. Are you planning to play the role of the patriarch this evening?"

Joel puffed out his chest, making sure Sam saw the little silver crest of chest hair on his pectorals. “Maybe. I've been teaching the boy how to drink."

“He doesn't drink?"

“Apparently doesn't like alcohol." Joel winked at Sam slyly. “But I am going to find the drink that he likes if it kills me!" He turned and began sauntering back towards Shaw. “And who knows? Maybe we'll serve it at our wedding!"

“Wait!"

He stopped and turned as Sam flicked out he card, holding it between his fingers and waving it at Joel.

“Give him Cash's loaded fries. They're the best thing on the menu. Best to have something in your stomach if you're drinking, after all."

That was a very good idea. Joel had played off the whole 'finding a drink' for Shaw as a cute little catalyst for conversation and interaction but now that he thought about it, he had to be the responsible bartender here. Thanking Sam, he took the card, swiped it and tapped in the order to the bar's kitchen. After handing the card back to Sam, he swaggered back towards Shaw, grabbing a few bottles as he did so. By the time he got back to the polar bear, he had already concocted a new drink.

“So I figured you like cream," Joel concluded, setting down the glass in front of the bear. “This is basically a boozy key lime pie. Give it a try." He noted that they had upgraded from shot glasses to martini glasses now. Despite hating the taste of alcohol, Shaw was diligently drinking everything he was given.

Shaw picked up the martini glass in both paws and then puckered his lips like he was obsessed with taking as small of a sip as possible. It was really cute and made the child in Joel snicker. He shuffled a little to the right so he could see the bear in profile and then sneakily fished out his phone. Shaw was so focused on his drink that he never noticed when Joel took a photo. When the bear finally did take a sip, he smacked his lips and then violently shuddered.

“No good?" Joel asked, a pang of disappointment in his voice.

“I just got the key lime," said Shaw, his eyes watering.

“That's because you took a little too long to drink it. The different densities of the liquids will eventually cause it to separate. You can see the cream floating to the top." He pointed at the layer of froth at the top of the brew. “Give it a stir and then take a small mouthful."

Though showing a little of doubt, Shaw glanced around for something to stir the drink with. A lewd and puckish idea entered Joel's mind and he immediately washed his paws. Then, he dipped a finger into the martini glass, surprising Shaw entirely. He stirred the drink, slowly, seductively while trying to keep his gaze locked on Shaw. The bear's eyes were fixated on his finger and the drink, however. So with his other hand, he cupped Shaw's chin, tilted it upwards and opened his muzzle a little like he was trying to show a child how to eat for the first time. By some hypnotic powers he never knew he had, Shaw's muzzle opened, mirroring his. Then, he slowly and gently pressed his finger, drenched in booze, onto Shaw's tongue, pushing the chin to close the muzzle.

Shaw's eyelid fluttered.

Bingo.

He could actually feel the bear purring against his finger.

Do bears purr?

“Good?" Again, he got another little purr. “Good," he confirmed. “Looks like we found your drink."

Right on time, the smell of cheese, fires, green onions and the house sweet-and-sour sauce filled his nostrils. A tall, lean lion stepped up to them wearing a custom-made apron - one that had a clear, plastic layer over his chest so that his chiseled pectorals and marble-cut abdominals were on full display. Amos may have been the biggest of the owners of JACKED but Damon had to be the leanest. Cutting cheese on his abs was such a big joke amongst the patrons that people just kept calling him the 'Big Cheese Grater' simply because of his bright, yellow fur and cheddar-cheese-colored hair and made.

“Order of loaded fires?" Cash asked, sliding the large, rectangular plate towards Shaw. The bear seemed to snap out of his stupor and immediately jerked away from Joel's finger.

“I… Uhm… I didn't…" stammered the bear, struggling to adjust his glasses.

“It's okay," Joel said, jerking his chin at his coworker and fellow co-owner. “I ordered it for you. On the house. If you're going to go through the wine tour that is the Joel Rockham Experience, you need something in your stomach." He winked at Shaw slyly. “You'll need the carbs and energy."

Shaw shook from head to toe and tented his fingers, drumming them nervously together while his gaze dropped to the fries. “Th - Th - Thank you…?"

“Take your time with your meal. I'll be back in a bit and then we can get out of here."

“O - Okay…"

Shaw began to gingerly eat from the fries while eying the drink he had been given. Satisfied with himself, Joel stepped away from the bar, sensing that Cash wanted to talk. He anticipated some lecture about giving away free food. Everyone did it. He would pay for it later with his paycheck.

Under the guise of going into the kitchen for some limes, he followed Cash into the back of the house. Though predominantly a bar, Cash had been adamant of having a full kitchen when they opened the establishment. He kept everything absolutely clean and he was a tyrant in the world of stainless steel. The two other cooks he had with him were like his soldiers. Outside of the kitchen, though, Brock and Cole took turns slamming their dicks into the lion.

“Didn't think you'd start fingering people before you hit the bedroom," grunted Cash as he headed over to the fryer.

“Part of my charm," answered Joel with a shrug. “Besides, I washed my hands."

“You better," growled the lion playfully. “I put a lot of effort into making sure the health inspectors are happy with our food. The last thing I want is to be hit by a case of food poisoning because you fingered a dude and then used that same finger to stir someone else's drink."

“I'm safe. You know it."

Cash turned and made a point of whipping Joel's flank with his whip-like tail. “Right. Just be careful with that cub, okay?"

A warning from Cash. Rare but one to be heeded. Of all the owners of JACKED, Cash was the youngest - at only 24-years-old - but most of the capital for the bar came from him. The lion came from an wealthy family but when he came out to them at eighteen, they disowned him but dropped a lot of money his way to keep him silent. After legally changing his name to 'Cash Mills', Cash got with his friends and together, they opened JACKED.

Joel still found it funny how he - being thirty-eight at the time - was attending the same college as Cash and the others. All of them were taking a business class. They graduated together three years later and together, they had opened this bar. He was the oldest out of them all yet it was Cash who was the most mature.

“I'll be gentle," snickered Joel, reaching for a tray of pre-cut limes.

“I'm not talking about in bed," warned Cash. “The kid looks like he's going through a rough time. You might be a rebound, dude."

Joel frowned for a second. His hook up was extremely nervous this entire time but he had just interpreted that as first-hook-up jitters. Now that he thought about it, he recalled that Shaw had not updated his Howler profile in two years. He looked rather well dressed. Certainly more well dressed than a casual hook up. Judging on physical appearance alone, the little belly suggested that Shaw had let himself go a little. All signs pointed to a recent breakup.

“I am not a good bartender…" he sighed.

“No, you're not," Cash snickered, finishing assembling the burger he had put together. “But you're the only other bartender we have, you're hot, you bring the crowds and you're an owner." He handed Joel the plate with the burger. “Now give this to that cub of yours and open those big, surprisingly sensitive ears of yours. The kid needs a palette cleanse. You need your rocks off. Fuck each other but make sure it's for the right reasons. Last thing we want is another stalker situation."

Joel lifted a finger at him, eyes narrowed. “He's not here but we still don't talk about that."

“Right. Right." Cash waved an apology and kissed his fingers before waving away the sign of affection in some arbitrary direction in the hopes that Erick will get it. “Anyway, fuck off. Hank wants his hor's douvres."

With the burger in one hand and the tray of limes in the other, Joel said, “Ever get the feeling that he's just us to test out the dishes he wants at his wedding."

“At least every two years."

Joel took the limes and food back to the bar where noticed Vinnie - a limber and lean fox - had already taken position and was serving the other customers. He waved at his coworker and offered some instructions about Hank's drink before setting down the limes. Once done, he headed back to Shaw who had finished about half of his drink.

“This is JACKED's special Triple B Burger," he announced, setting down the play with the burger in front of Shaw. “Beef, Bacon and Beef. You'll love it."

Shaw's eyes widened and he held up his paws again. “I can't accept this! It's already too much!"

Joel leaned down so that he was at eye-level with the bear. “It's fine, dude. It's the least I could do for ignoring you for the better part of half-an-hour after promising I'd be here to meet you."

“But you already gave me so much to drink…"

“That's just my pick-up line," he answered with a wink. “Now come on. Eat up. And while you're at it, why don't you tell me about your breakup?"

Shaw's features fell. “How did you know…?"

He began listing off the - now - obvious signs that the poor bear had just gotten out of a terrible relationship and was looking to get back out there. After he finished, the flood began. Shaw opened up.

Thank you, Cash!

Shaw

It was the alcohol. It had to be.

Shaw never thought he would be spilling is life's story to a total stranger but the moment Joel began peeling open his reasons for coming to the bar, he began spilling. Liam cheating on him, the two weeks of near-total darkness and isolation and finally, the little beep from Howler. Of course it went deeper than that.

“I was with Liam for three years," he lamented, a little louder than he intended, stumbling up a flight of stairs. “That's three years of my life I'll never get back." He leaned against the railings of the stairway, gazing upwards at the spiral of the stairwell. “Do you know how many hours I spent working overtime just so that I could pay for his trips back to his 'family'? I bet he was just cheating on me again."

Joel's strong hand hefted him up from the railings and gently guided him up the steps again. “Come on, man. Don't assume the worst. Though I will say that it was still pretty shitty of him to do that to you after all you did for him. Didn't he have his own job?"

Shaw rolled his eyes. “He is an 'artist'."

“Maybe I should hook him up with Sam," chuckled Joel. The bull snickered with his whole body so Shaw felt it throughout his entire body as he leaned against the bull. “A regular of mine. He does commissions. He's really good too."

“Not that kind of artist. He's a 'sandwich artist'." Just to add insult to injury, Shaw made sure to throw the air quotes a little harder than usual. “He works at an artisanal sandwich shop. They have these absolutely pretentious sandwiches that have names like 'The Scent of Melodious Spring' and 'Morning Sunrise on The Farm'."

Joel grimaced as they reached their destination floor and followed the bull down the hallway. “Were they good?"

“God no. Melodious Spring was a vegan sandwich. Like super vegan. To the point where they don't use eggs or even yeast because they consider yeast living things! Yeast is a single-celled microorganism! It's a fungus! And Morning Sunrise is a literally just a bacon sandwich with a sunny side up egg on top! Do you have any idea how messy that is!?"

Shaw stumbled towards the door that Joel indicated and reached for his keys. He was glad to be home. Though it genuinely felt good that he was airing out all of this dirty laundry, he felt guilty piling it all on Joel. Then he remembered that his apartment was not exactly in the best of states after his break up. Not that he would likely get lucky this evening given what he had said.

“Hey…" he mumbled, words slurring. “I'm sorry for all this. I didn't mean to ruin our hook up by making it all about me."

Joel's strong hands grasped his shoulder, keeping him upright. “Trust me, I've heard worse in my career as a bartender. That's saying something since I only started bartending about three years ago."

“Really? You're so good at it…"

“Well, that's because I use my previous experiences from my old job."

He looked at Joel and frowned a little. His vision was blurred but only on one side of his vision.

Can you get drunk on one side of your face? Am I having a stroke?

Then Joel reached for his face and adjusted his glasses. Now he came in nice and clear.

“That's better…" he grinned stupidly. “What were you doing before you worked at the bar?"

“I was a stripper."

Shaw's eyes boggled. In his alcohol addled stupor and with his inhibitions long asleep under the sheets of inebriation, he said the first thing that came to mind.

“That is so hot. Why did you quit?"

Joel chuckled, once again with his whole body. With his arms still around Shaw, the bear was jostled a little. Still very much drunk, Shaw let out a little 'weeeeee' as he was gently shaken.

“I quit and went back to college when I was thirty-eight," confessed the bull. “Now I know there's a market for good-looking guys like me even well into our silver ages but I wanted to do something else after stripping for over fifteen years. So I went and got my business degree. That's where I met the other guys and we opened JACKED together."

Some of the cogs in Shaw's mind creaked together, sparking some inspiration.

“Wait… You own that bar-club-strip club thing…"

Again, Joel chuckled. This time, his whole-body laugh jostled Shaw's mind enough to remind him that he was standing out in the open apartment floor for a while now. He reached into his pocket and slipped his keys into the doorknob. When he tried to twist the knob, however, it didn't turn.

Frowning, he pulled the keys eye and lifted to his muzzle, going cross-eyed as he tried to examine it.

Still the same keys… am I in the right place?

To his surprise, Joel managed to open to door for him. Mumbling his thanks, Shaw stumbled in… and immediately stopped.

That wooden coffee table was unfamiliar. As was the huge lounge set that could seat eight people. The flat screen, wall-mounted 4K TV was definitely not his. If the lack of consoles or his collection of popular figurines or just how neat everything was wasn't evidence enough, the large cabinet of booze sealed the deal on what he already suspected.

“This… this isn't my apartment."

A heavy had slapped his back and pushed him deeper into the brightly lit abode.

“You are way too drunk to be driving yourself," laughed Joel, moving past him.

Slam.

That was the door shutting behind him, locking them both into this apartment or at least making it even more difficult for Shaw to make a hasty exit. All the booze suddenly seemed to coalesce into a level of clarity and, somehow, the recently dumped polar bear found himself worrying if 'whiskey dick' was a real thing.

Joel sat down on the couch and patted the seat beside him.

“Come over here, Shaw. You might as well get used to the couch you'll be sleeping on."

He blinked a few times in confusion and barely managed the few syllables of, “B-huh?"

The bull with the small flecks of gray in his blond hair gave him a knowing smirk. “I know this was meant to be a hook up but you are way too drunk for that. Besides, as a co-owner of JACKED, I'm liable for anything wrong that happens to you especially since I was the one that poured drink after drink down your throat."

“I only counted three," Shaw countered, puffing out his cheeks defiantly. “I'm not a light weight." Though he had no frame of reference since this would be the first time he'd actually imbibed any alcohol.

A sympathetic look crossed Joel's face; a slightly condescending smile, lifted eyebrows and head tilted ever so slightly. “Oh honey bear. You don't remember the other dozen drinks, do you?"

He straightened in surprise. “D - D - dozen!?"

“It wasn't a dozen but…" Joel began counting off the cocktails with his fingers. “There was the boozy tootsie pop I gave you first. Then the one that should have reminded you of a black forest cake. Then the key lime pie one."

“That one I remember!" exclaimed Shaw, pointing at the bull. The sudden movement, however, messed up his already shaky equilibrium and he stumbled forward. At that point, he realized that the couches were set in a small lowered platform compared to the rest of the apartment and he missed the step down to the level. He tumbled down and landed face flat on the couch right next to Joel.

He kept his face buried in the couch primarily so that he could keep his dignity and avoid the bull from seeing his bright red cheeks. Instead, he focused on the soft cushions which carried Joel's strong scent with it… along with a myriad of other aromas. He was sure most of them were guys… maybe one girl. But he was sure he could also smell… sex infused into the upholstery.

“Okay…" he mumbled, keeping a finger raised in some arbitrary direction. “I may be drunk."

Joel was chuckling again and since he laughed with his whole body, he sent vibrations throughout the entire couch. “No shit."

Those big hands gripped Shaw's shoulders and turned him over so that he was now facing up at the ceiling. Joel peered down at him, peering over those mountains of his pectorals to him.

“Oh no…" Shaw mumbled.

A look of genuine concern crossed Joel's expression. “You okay? You need to throw up?"

“No…" he let out a little giggle. “You're literally doing the 'looking down your pecs' meme at me."

“Take a picture."

Giggling a little, Shaw reached for his phone, angled it upwards and - as requested - took a picture of the big, muscled bull looking down upon him. He then tilted his phone up so that Joel could see it.

“What do you think?"

“I like it," replied Joel with a strange mischievous grin on his muzzle. “But I think mine is better."

Shaw frowned, puzzled by the statement. He tilted his ears back as Joel reached for his own phone, cycled through some photos and then showed him the photograph in question. His heart immediately plummeted to his stomach and his jaw dropped in terror. It was a picture of him holding the martini glass daintily and puckering his lips towards the lip of the cocktail glass like some sort of exaggerated cartoon.

“When did you take that!?" he squealed, lunging for the phone. In his drunken stupor, however, everything was a haze so he missed the device entirely and Joel easily kept it away from him.

“Third drink," was all Joel said.

“Delete that now!"

“Sure. For a kiss."

Shaw's cheeks burned for an entirely different reason and his stomach churned in horror. Blackmail. So this is how Joel Rockham got his rocks off. Blackmail someone as plain and ugly as him into sucking his dick. Get him drunk so he could barely resist. He shut his eyes in embarrassment. Why had he ever even let himself believe for one single second that this was anything more than an excuse for the big bull to get an orgasm out of him?

They had met on Howler less than twenty-four hours ago, after all.

Shaw sighed heavily. “Alright… Fine. Drop the act. Unless that's your thing…"

Joel lifted an eyebrow at him. “What are you talking about? I just want a kiss."

“Drop the chiv… chive… the knight act," he growled, sitting back up, his back to the bartender. “We both know you want to get hard and cum. If it makes you feel better pretending your some sort of prince coming to my rescue, that's your own thing. Keep telling yourself that. But I'll just go so far as sucking your dick."

“Whoa, whoa!" exclaimed Joel. “Is that what you think this is?"

Growing tired of the facade, Shaw turned angrily back towards Joel while removing his glasses at the same time. “You got me drunk. You took me to your place. You asked for a kiss. We met on Howler. What else is it meant to be?"

With his vision blurred, he couldn't really tell what was on Joel's face but he could at least infer from his voice that there was a degree of genuine regret in his tone.

“Damn… your ex really left you hurting, huh?" Joel shuffled slightly in the chair, his colossal weight causing the entire piece of furniture to shift. “Yeah, we met on Howler. Yeah, I was looking for a quick hook-up. But I'm an adult. I'm forty-four years old, man. I know when I have a legal liability. Like I said, I'm the bartender and I got you drunk. Who is to say you won't come around and sue me, sue my bar, if I took advantage of you right here and now?"

Joel's strong hands rested on his shoulder. “I'm not going to have sex with you, Shaw."

“But what if I want it?" The word came tumbling out before Shaw could stop them. It took him a whole twenty seconds to even register he had said them aloud instead of internally. With a growl, he gripped his head with one paw. “Sorry… I've never been drunk before so… I can't control myself…"

That full body laugh followed and Shaw's shoulder shook from where Joel was gripping it. “It's alright, man. It's your first time. I get it. For what it's worth though, your ex threw away his chance at an awesome guy."

“Really?" Shaw rumbled, reaching down and gripping his belly fat. “Even with all this?"

“Looks aren't everything you know. When you've got your beer goggles on, everyone looks hot."

Shaw snorted and reached out for his glasses… or at least where he thought he had left them. He was grasping at air though. A second later, he found them being placed on his face but Joel's careful hands. Suddenly, he could see clearly again and saw the genuine concern on the bull's features.

Then he realized he was looking directly into the bull's eyes. Gravity - that tenacious, heartless bitch - dragged his pupils back down only for him to realize he was now staring directly at Joel's crotch. He froze for all of five seconds before immediately averting his gaze… only to realize that his abrupt turn likely only made his host all the more aware at what he was staring at.

“Thanks," he rumbled.

“Anytime." Joel was quiet for a second. “For what it's worth, I hope I made your first experience with alcohol a positive, memorable one."

“I'm not sure I'd go drinking every day…"

“That'd make you an alcoholic," teased the bull. “And if you were angling towards that, I'd have to stop you and throw you an intervention."

Shaw reeled back, twisting his lips up on one side in disbelief while lifting the opposite eyebrow. “But you're a bartender!"

“Bartenders - at least responsible ones - know what to serve people what they will like. We don't get people drunk. That's not the goal. It's to give people an experience."

There was something inspiring about how Joel was talking about serving people what Shaw had considered a social poison for the longest time. He leaned back into the couch, appraising the bull in a new light.

“I guess you did give me an experience," he admitted. “Especially when you 'fingered' me."

“Jesus…" huffed Joel. “Full disclosure, I was trying to get into your pants."

“Or get me to suck you off. And full disclosure…" He held up his thumb and forefinger about an inch from one another. “… if you had gotten me a little more drunk, I would've jumped on your dick and gone to town on that thing."

Shaw flashed him a bright, grin. “Really?"

“Hell yeah! You're goddamn smoking hot!" His ears suddenly perked. “Erp… that's not offensive to bovines, is it? Smoked meat and all?"

“Fuck no. So long as you don't mind being called cola."

“Cola?" he asked tilting his head to the side. The simple gesture made his vision blur so he slowly and gently righted his gaze.

“You haven't heard that before?" Joel asked. “Amongst the gay community, we call polar bears 'cola' because of that time when Coca Cola had a polar bear mascot."

“I remember that," exclaimed Shaw though the sudden excitement made his head spin. Lowering his voice, he said, “That guy was pretty damn hot."

“Hot?" Joel blew a raspberry. “That man was sizzling. If ever there was a reason for the polar ice caps melting, it was because of him." The bull gave him a broad smile. “What changed your mind about sucking my dick?"

Shaw leaned back, getting comfortable in the couch. “When you decided to be a good bartender and asked me what was bothering me. It'd be weird to sleep with the guy that I spilled my heart out to."

“I thought we were just talking about sucking dick not sleeping together."

Playing the role of a dramatic client, Shaw threw his paws into the air. “God! You're thirsty!"

“I'm a bartender! I spend all night serving drinks not having any of my own!"

Never thought of it that way before. I wonder what his favorite drink is.

A sense of weariness began settling in and the buzz that he was experiencing was starting to lull him to sleep. The world suddenly tilted to the side and it took him a whole minute to realize he was now lying on his side, length-wise on the couch.

“Oh… I think I'm going down…" he mused.

Another full body laugh that shook the entire couch. From where he lay, though, it felt like a gentle, rumbling massage.

“I'll get you some pillows and a blanket," chuckled Joel.

“Thank you…" he replied though it came out a little more girlish and high-pitched than he had expected.

A few moments later, he found his head being lifted up gently and a large, fluffy pillow being set against his head. A warm and heavy blanket rested over his body, embracing him in warmth.

“There you go," said Joel. “You rest up bud."

“Wait…" mumbled Shaw. He was fairly sure his eyes were closed because he only saw darkness. Or maybe Joel had flicked off the lights. Either way, he said, “I still owe you a kiss."

Just to emphasize his point, he puckered his lips and pushed them out of his muzzle, much like, he imagined, he looked like in that photograph. Joel chuckled, leaned down and their lips met…

…

Then it was morning.

Shaw's eyes cracked open and he immediately realized he was in an unfamiliar setting… in a very unfamiliar scenario. Head pounding. Lips dry. Throat parched.

Naked.

A soft snort made him jolt and he tilted his head slowly to his left… where he found the sleepy, grinning features of Joel Rockham staring back at him.

“Morning," rumbled the big, naked bull.

Fuck!

Joel

For someone who probably had a killer hangover, Shaw moved like lightning. The very naked polar bear was bolting out of the bed, dragging the blanket up with him. Not that Joel minded. It gave him the opportunity to show off where the bear had cum all over his chest and abdominals like a modern artist had gone wild on the hard, rigid canvas that had been his chiseled torso.

“So much for not sleeping with one another, huh?" he quipped.

Shaw's eyes were wide in terror. “What… What happened last night?" he croaked, throat still clearly feeling the effects of his night of drinking.

Joel rolled over to the bedside table on his side of the king-sized bed and grabbed the water bottle that he had there for similar occasions. He then offered it to Shaw who cautiously sniffed it. When assured that it was just water, he got a suspicious stare from the bear before Shaw finally took a few gulps from it.

“Last night, you started getting sleepy," Joel explained. “Then you said you owed me a kiss. I went for your cheek but then you angled for my lips and then was suddenly diving for my tonsils."

“No!" Shaw squeaked. “I could barely see anything! I think…"

“The lights were on dude. You shut your eyes." Joel snickered and glanced upwards. “And oh boy you are a beast. Are bear's tongues usually that long because I swear I could feel it in the back of my throat. It was damn hot."

Shaw began to blush. Curiously, he blushed all over. His flesh beneath his white fur began to turn pink, giving him a rosy complexion all over. “I… I don't remember anything…"

That was disappointing.

“So you don't remember latching onto me, telling me to use my 'big muscles' to carry you to me bed and then growling in my ear that you were going to - and I quote - 'ride me all the way from Minnesota to Texas'."

“What!?" squealed the bear.

“Yeah, I was confused too," laughed Joel. “We're in California, after all. Were you from Minnesota?"

“No! I was born and raised here!"

“So where did…?"

Shaw threw his paws into the air, dropping the blanket that was providing him some modicum of modesty. “I don't know! I was drunk! I have no idea what I was saying!"

When Joel's eyes drifted down towards the bear's thick cock, Shaw immediately bent down, picked up the blanket and used it to hide himself again. Then he gasped, bringing both paws back towards his muzzle and dropping the blanket again. Another short squeak and Shaw grabbed the blanket with one paw.

“What did we do?" breathed the bear.

“You did exactly what your promised," replied Joel with a bright grin. “You bent me over and shoved your dick up my ass and rode me all up the I-35." When he got a puzzled look from the bear, Joel said, “See, I had enough time to look up how far Minnesota to Texas is and how to get there because right after you came in my ass and a quick fifteen minute break, you were latching onto my chest and telling me you were going to 'milk the muscle right out of my moo-moo milkers'."

“I would never say that!"

“My sore ass and these bite marks beg to differ." He gestured at his chest and the slight indentations of the bear's fangs on his hide. They were not enough to break the flesh but the fur had been forced to part slightly. “I'm flexible but I am in no way able to suck my own nipples."

Joel's full-body blush started to turn a brighter shade of red. “Oh god… I'm so sorry… I… I wasn't thinking. I was so drunk off my mind…"

“It's okay!" Joel laughed, patting the bed right beside him and putting on his bartender persona. “Come on, sit down. Let's talk about it. You may not remember it but I think you needed that. A lot." He gestured at the splatters of seed all over his chest. “It felt like you were pent up. Like… a lot."

Shaw glanced away, lips twisted into a grimace. “I… I hadn't really done anything for two weeks since the break up."

The bull puffed out his cheeks, widened his eyes and let out his breath slowly. “That's a long time not to find any sort of relief."

“Yeah…" Then Shaw shook his head and took a step back away from him. “Wait! I know what this is! You're using your scary bartender voodoo magic on me again!"

My scary bartender what-what…?

“I -"

“No!" Shaw shouted, pointing directly at him. “Don't say anything out of that delicious mouth of yours! I mean…" He grimaced again, tapping the side of his head. “I'm hungover… I'm confused… Where are my clothes?"

Joel directed him to the various piles of clothes that lay scattered all over the room. They had discarded them the previous night in such a flurry that he had genuinely been afraid that Shaw would start mauling him. As a herbivore, there was always this nagging feeling in the back of his mind of being 'eaten' by a predatory species. Of course, they were more evolved than that but there were always those people out there that were into that sort of thing.

But despite his enthusiasm, Shaw was actually a very tender lay. Whiskey dick be damned, Joel had gotten off three times last night - twice just from Shaw's rigorous fucking and the last when Shaw came on his chest. That last one he had been holding in because he wanted to cum together with the bear. Perfect porn-scene-shot there.

Shaw dressed in a hurry and before Joel could stop him, the bear was running out the door, slamming it shut. The bull didn't even have a second to get up from the bed. He groaned to himself and lay in the sweat, cum-stained sheets.

“Shit…" he mumbled to himself.

Now a new sense of dread filled him. Shaw did not seem like the kind of guy to sue but there was still that fear that somewhere down the line, the polar bear would come back and accuse him of something that he didn't do. Evidence would be hard to keep. Plus he didn't know what Liam - Shaw's ex - was like. This event would likely drive the bear back into that slimeball's paws.

JACKED could take a legal hit but Joel wasn't sure he could stomach the idea that he drove someone as sweet and gentle as Shaw Feng back into his ex-boyfriend's cheating ass.

Blip-blip!

His phone.

Probably Cash or Killian asking how his night. As much as he wanted to ignore it, they would grow worried if he didn't answer promptly. All the guys at JACKED were pretty much like family… an incestuous, semi-polyamorous family…

Only it wasn't either of them.

It was Shaw.

“Hey, I'm sorry I stormed out," messaged the bear through Howler. “Saying things in person and confrontation has never been my strong suit and I always find myself more comfortable talking through text, email or chat."

Joel's lips curled upwards in a smile.

That's kind of cute.

“It's okay," he texted back. “Are you okay?"

“Still really embarrassed. I'm sorry I used you like that. I'm still getting over my ex and I think I really needed a hard reset. You made me feel confident and wanted. Getting me to try new things reminded me that even though I wasted three years on that asshole, there is still so much to learn and so much more ahead of me.

“So thank you, Joel. I really appreciate it. You didn't deserve how I treated and used you."

The bull sat up in his bed, a little confused and muzzle half-open like he was talking to Shaw directly.

“Apologizing to me after I got you nearly-blackout-drunk? Damn, Shaw Feng, you are one of a kind."

“Thank you. I hope we can still be friends?"

A sense of relief washed over Joel's chest and he finally let his shoulders relax. One arm behind his head and texting with his thumb, he replied with, “Sure. If you ever need a shoulder or an ear, you know where to find me. And if I'm being honest, I liked your company."

“I liked your company too. And if we're being honest…"

Joel lifted his eyebrows. This was the first time that Shaw cut off his text in mid-sentence. It surprised him that the bear was sending him entire paragraphs. Eloquent ones too. Not a single emoji or misspelled word. Those ellipses were a little ominous.

He was starting to brace himself for the worst.

“Okay," he told himself, “if he says that he's developing feelings for me, let him down easy. It happens. He was vulnerable. I was there for him. But he's a logical guy. He'll understand. But if he says he outright loves me, we have a Stalker Situation and I need the Council on this."

He took a few deep breaths as those ominous three dots flashed across his screen, indicating that Shaw was still writing something. Joel's heart started to tighten in his chest again.

Here comes the paragraph professing love.

“Fuck…" he mumbled to himself. “I'm going to get stabbed."

Then the five most crushing words flashed on screen.

“I hated that last drink."

…

“WHAT!?"