Happenstance {Forrest}

[Jacob Colter]

The day was cold, but Jacob didn't seem to mind at all. In fact, the young man was barely wearing anything that could be considered protection; a t-shirt, a long-sleeved flannel, and jeans, although he was wearing boots. Around his throat was his collar, since he hardly ever took it off.

While he walked, the skinwalker reached up to rub shaking fingers over the familiar, beloved material of the blue collar; jangling the tags in a way that helped to reassure him.

The reason for his shakes was simple- he hadn't had a fix in a while, and it was really starting to bother him. Withdrawl was setting in hard, and he'd had to get out of the house before his mother or siblings noticed. As light as his addiction actually was, Colt didn't want any of them to know. His mother would be furious, and his siblings might try to emulate him.

Colt was many things, but he was not a bad brother, and he was going to protect them from the horrors of the world for as long as he damn well could.

A noise startled him, and gray-brown eyes snapped up to look around. Curious, Jacob sniffed the air, trying to catch the scent, but he smelled nothing that didn't belong in an alleyway. The overpowering scent of fresh and stale urine was strong and he wrinkled his nose, and under that were the smells of the homeless, the addicts, and stray dogs.

One dog was watching him from the shadows, brown eyes wary and body tense. It was a pitbull mix, probably crossed with a boxer, and Colt's heart panged. He hated seeing stray dogs, but he had special ties to pitbulls.

"Hey, buddy." he coaxed, crouching down and making himself as unaggressive as possible. "You hungry? Might have something for you in my pockets." Of course he did; Colt always came prepared with dog treats.

The mix jerked back with a warning growl when he moved, so Jacob moved slowly until he had the treats in his hand. Rather then tossing them for fear of scaring away the stray, he put them on the ground between them and backed away.

"That's it, sweetie, c'mon up and get 'em." he said soothingly, watching as she slowly edged forward, her want for food overrriding her fear of the human. The wind changed then and she got a sniff of him; relaxing immediately and diving for the treats.

Colt grinned. She had smelled his Other, and was calmed by it, so he didn't worry about reaching out to give her a scratch behind her battle-scarred ears. She didn't seem aggressive even before she knew what he was- just scared and nervous.

"Go on, honey, have some more." he cooed, feeding her more treats before pulling out his phone.

Found another one mom- female. Two blocks away, third alley past the market. he texted quickly. Probably a boxer-pitbull mix. Better get her before the authorities do.

He waited for his mom's affirmative and then gave the female the rest of his treats and moved on. Cepcia would come and get her and take her home, and then they'd figure something out. Perhaps another skinwalker would know a good home for her.

Walking back towards the streets, Jacob shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around. He wondered if there was anyone in the area besides his usual dealer who he could score from. After all, that's why he'd come out here in the first place.

He was so focused on his thoughts that he didn't even see the other guy until they'd collided. Colt stumbled back with a surprised chuff, head snapping up to focus on whoever it was he'd just run into.

"Sorry, man, wasn't paying attention." he apologized.

[Forrest Clare]

Forrest grabbed a long black scarf and a leather jacket as he headed toward the door. “Going out.” He grunted before slamming the door. He didn’t wait to hear his mother protest or to watch his younger brother try to rush after him to join the mindless hunt. Why couldn’t the boy just realize there was nothing admirable or desirable about Forrest’s life?

He hailed a cab and slipped in, fingering the leather and studs of his thick collar as the driver gave him a backwards glance. “Brooklyn. Anywhere.” He breathed as he shut the door and the yellow car pulled away from the curb, heading down the street. He knew he could have walked but he wanted to save his energy. And he needed the quiet space to think, to plan. He felt his wallet in the pocket of his jeans and slid a finger between the fold, counting the bills contained.

The ride wasn’t long even with reasonable traffic and the cab pulled up outside a bar. “Looked like your sort of place.” The driver chuckled darkly as he reached back for his payment.

“Keep the change. Got no need for it anyways.” Forrest responded as he stepped out into the cold air to quickly step into the warm bar. He almost resented the law making it illegal to smoke inside public buildings. He missed the smoky air that seemed to promise him cheap drinks and anonymity.

“Back so soon, Mik?” The bartender said as he wiped the wooden bar and pulled out a bottle of beer from beneath it. “Your usual?” He offered up the bottle and waved it lightly.

Forrest nodded and grabbed the beer, taking a deep sip and sighing as the alcohol slid down his throat. “Can’t stay long though. Maybe just one other and then I’m off. Got to clear my head.” He said with a faint nod, more to himself than the bartender he had gotten to know over the past few years.

“Don’t do anything stupid, yeah?”

“I try.”

Forrest took another drink from the bottle before looking to stare at the door. Something was drawing him back into the cold air.

“Something up?”

“Maybe I’ll just finish this one. I’ve got…got to go.” Forrest didn’t really register his own words as he quickly finished off the beer and placed a twenty on the counter. “Consider it a forward payment. I’ll be back later after I’ve figured this out.” He said before he stood and walked to the door, slipping back out onto the street.

His nose twitched as he looked down the street. There was an all too familiar scent in the air mixing with the smell of stray animals and homeless people and trash. It was the smell of someone like him, someone screwed up, someone who didn’t belong. He zipped his jacket up as he dug his hands into his pocket and put his head down. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe his nose was betraying him.

He snorted at that thought. You are a hound…even a sight hound has better smell than humans…and you wouldn’t mistake that smell…never.

He fingered the studded leather collar again. Ever since the little accident occurred, he never took it off, not in New York City at least. He didn’t want to get picked up by the patrols and end up in some damn cage at the shelter. It was a reassurance as well, speaking of control and power that he always felt like he was losing.

His mind wandered as he pushed away the thoughts of that smell and continued down the street, eyes tied to the ground. It was a shock when he ran directly into some punk kid. He let out a pointed growl as he stepped back from the other male, needing his space to keep his cool. “Watch out next time. Not everyone’s bark is worse than their bite.” He grimaced at his own dog reference and growled to himself.

[Jacob Colter]

Brushing himself off, Colt bared his teeth at the man. The smell of skinwalker filled his senses when he inhaled, and that just made him angrier. One of his own kind was gonna be such an ass?

"My bad, man." he snapped back, his tone rough and his gray-brown eyes glittering angrily. "Maybe next time you should look out, too, lest the other's claws hurt worse than their shoulder."

Jacob stood where he'd stopped, looking over the man with a critical eye and noticing the collar; reaching up to finger at his own and making the tags jangle again. "So, you're a skinwalker, too." he finally said, and it wasn't a question. "Were you born one, or were you turned?"

Curious despite himself, Jacob sniffed the air, drawing in the older man's scent and categorizing them all. He couldn't tell exactly how long the man had been a 'walker, but he could smell the recently-imbibed alcohol and his nose scrunched up.

More than that, he could smell his own sweat, and feel his shaking get worse the longer he went without a heroine fix. To try and distract himself Colt bit down on the inside of his cheek; light enough not to break skin, but sharp enough that a jolt of pain shot through him. His nostrils flared and his breath hitched at the sharp point of quick agony, and then he calmed again.

"Do you live around here? I don't recognize you, and there are only a few other 'walkers in the area." He was prying, and he knew it, but he couldn't help it. It was either keep this man talking to figure out how long he'd been around, or brush him off and keep walking and seem rude, and dispite his temper, Colt wasn't rude. His momma had raised him to be polite, because Cepcia did not tolerate backtalk from anyone.

Colt's stomach roiled and he winced, letting out a soft noise of distress. The nausea was starting up, and if he wasn't careful he might just vomit all over this skinwalker's shoes, and then he'd really be pissy.

"So, uh, sorry about running into you and snapping." he mumbled suddenly, running a hand over his head and feeling the buzzed bristles and then the thicker, curlier hair that was his short mowhawk. "Not having the best of days right now. I should have been paying attention."

The hand that had run over his head dropped to finger his collar again, slipping underneath the material to tug on it before tracing over the polished surfaces that were his name and rabies tags. It was an unconscious thing he did, and usually the only way he realized he was actually doing it was when the tags clinked together.

Like they just had. Catching himself, Jacob dropped his hand and stuffed it back into his pocket, hunching his shoulders slightly. He was beginning to feel really, really sick, and thanked the night around them for hiding just how pale his naturally-tanned skin was probably becoming. Either way, he leaned against the wall to hold himself up while making it seem completely intentional on his part.

[Forrest Clare]

Mik let out something akin to a bark as the other male bared his teeth. It wasn’t so much a threat as a warning. It didn’t say “I’m going to tear your throat out” as much as “Even I don’t know my own temper.” He took a deep breath though and took another step back.

“I’ve got better things to worry about. Like what you are doing wandering around. Why do all of you think you are just so privileged? You’re all no better than stray mutts.” He grunted as his amber eyes sparked and his hands clenched into fists.

“That’s what you call yourselves? Skinwalkers? Never stopped to ask the…” He stopped himself as he felt his temper rising and the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. It’s not worth it, Forrest. This kid may be a punk but he’s too young to be the one that got you. He ran a hand back through his hair and settled it on his collar for a moment, tracing his name on the dog tag that hung from it.

“I had the unfortunate luck of being forced into this life. One of you bit me. Never found the creep.” He took another deep breath as he had the sudden urge to just go back to the bar and drink himself into oblivion. It would be so much easier than dealing with his anger or facing this kid.

He caught a strange scent mixed with other’s sweat, another scent he recognized from some old friends. “I live in Queens. So no. When’d you last shoot up, kid? Are you even old enough for that crap?” He asked as he stepped closer, inhaling through his nose to pull in more of the other’s odor. “You know that’ll kill you right? Faster than being a pit on the street will even.” He added.

He caught the noise of the other’s stomach and then the distressing sound. “Come on. Let’s get some food. You aren’t going to get a fix around here.” He said as he touched his pocket to make sure his wallet was still there. “My treat even.” He added to perhaps entice the other.

It wasn’t like he actually wanted to spend quality time with his druggie but he also had a thing against addicts. Perhaps it was a reflection on his hatred of his own habits. Plus, this kid couldn’t have been too much older than Joseph and he would die if his younger brother became a junkie.

“Let’s go. What’s your name, kid? Don’t make me check your tags.” He gave a gruff, barking laugh at his own joke. “Not that you seem to mind attention on them. You love them, don’t you? Reassuring right?” He said as he realized how his own hand had begun to hover around his collar more often. “There’s a bar down the street. I know the owner and he won’t ask any questions.”

[Jacob Colter]

"Jesus, fuck." Colt snapped, disgusted. "What, normal punk-ass teenagers get to walk around, but I don't get to? What the hell? I earned my freedom, just like they did." He rolled his eyes and leaned back further against the wall, tipping his head back.

"I was born one, though I've met a lot of others who were turned, just like you. Not all the changes were consentual either, and for that I am sorry. No one should be forced into this unless they're sure they want to be." At least he sounded apologetic, even though he wasn't the one who had turned the man. Hell, Jacob had never turned anyone in his entire life, though that would probably change soon enough.

Colt swung his head forward at the mention of Queens. "Oh, really? I was born there, then we moved to Brooklyn." he replied, grinning; although with the way he was feeling, it looked much more like a grimace. He was starting to shake harder, and even in the dark light there was no way to hide it, or the sweat on his skin.

When the question came, the skinwalker didn't even bother to try and sound innocent or confused. "Nearly five days ago." he replied tiredly. "Haven't been able to find anyone with a good stash since then, which is why I'm out tonight. How long has it been since you've only limited yourself to one drink?" Yeah, okay, his tone wasn't exactly the nicest, but Colt wasn't in a good place right now; in no mood to play games, although he was trying to be nice, and so he sighed.

"Sorry, I just feel really sick right now. Yeah, I know it'll kill me, and that's why I don't go overboard with it. What do you even care if I'm old enough to shoot up? 'Course I'm old enough. I'm eighteen."

Mention of food had his stomach roiling all over again, and Jacob bit out another unpleasant noise and ran a gentle hand over his abdomen, like that was supposed to help. He needed to get drugs into his system and fast. Much more of this and he wouldn't be able to take it.

"Uh, not to be rude, but I'll pass on the food. Thanks, though. Don't wanna waste your money, and anything that went down right now would no-doubt just come right back up all over you and your clothes. Don't wanna ruin that pretty scarf."

Gray-brown eyes cracked open, and Colt couldn't even remember when he'd closed them. "M'name's Jacob Colter. Please, though, call me Colt." he mumbled. "Who are you?"

Talk turned to his collar, and the skinwalker reached up reflexively to loop his fingers around the thick silver ring at the front, where his tags dangled. "Yeah, I love 'em. I love this collar, too. It was a present from my momma; gave it to me on my tenth birthday." Jacob closed his eyes again. "I wear it all the time, so that way if I'm caught while I'm in dog form they know who I belong to."

Carressing the collar, he finally pushed himself off the wall and stood; swaying slightly and then catching himself. His throat constricted, stomach heaving, but he managed to keep from throwing up.

"Now who's breaking the law?" he bit out; head lowered and his shoulders tense. "Taking a minor into a bar. Or are you more interested in the back rooms? Gotta tell you, though, you don't strike me as the type. Then again, I've been wrong about people before."

[Forrest Clare]

“I don’t like what I am. I don’t think this is natural or normal. I think we should be caged or locked up or just done away with.” He grunted as he stared at the younger male. “I think you should be just for a while too…keep you away from the damn drugs.”

“Born one. Born one. Yeah. It wasn’t consensual at all. He thought he owned the whole goddamn street. He said I gave him attitude and he was just going to show me what real attitude was. He was going to make my bark just as bad as my bite. Woke up the next morning as a goddamn dog.” His voice was strained, trembling as his temper rose and he remembered that day. His hands were in fists again and he had to turn his head away for a moment to collect himself.

“Yeah. I hate it. I’m from Manhattan. That’s my home. But Dad died and Mom and Frederick—“ He paused as he spoke the name and shuddered subconsciously. “Well they thought it would be better for us to move to Queens. Closer to good old Freddy’s work.” He tried not to sound so bitter but it was hard to keep the venom out of his words.

“Five days? God, kid. If you are going to be a junkie you should at least find a steady supplier.” He rolled his eyes as he took off his jacket and set it around the younger man’s shoulders. He knew it wouldn’t stop the chills from withdrawal but it would make him feel better. Plus, he didn’t need it. His blood was boiling from his steady stream of angry thoughts.

“I hate seeing kids throwing their entire lives away. You’ve got an entire life ahead of you. Why be some no good druggie? Eighteen? Eighteen and you rule the world I’m sure. If you are old enough to shoot up though then I’m certainly old enough to have more than one drink when I want. And, for your information, before finding you I had just one beer.”

He could see the nausea creeping up over the other. It was a sick catch twenty-two. The other needed drugs to make the withdrawal symptoms go away but if he took drugs it would only make him worse in the long run.

“I know some people. It would be in your best interest to come with me. Unless you feel like passing out on the street. Pretty young think like you? You would not last the night.” He said with a rather dark smile spread over his face. He laughed though.

“Lovely to meet you, Colt.” He said as he watched the other carefully for any sign that he was either going to black out or vomit. He had no desire for police attention. It would look more than slightly suspicious if a twenty-four year old was found with a passed out eighteen year old and a hint of alcohol on his breath.

“Forrest Clare. You can call me Forrest or Mik.” He watched the other male fingering his collar so naturally. It clearly had become a deeply ingrained habit in the other male. “It’s lovely that you have a good family. Just lovely.” There was a soft bitterness in his voice, a sort of deep melancholy that made him long for another beer nursed in the crook of his arm while sitting at the bar.

He wrapped his arm around the other male’s shoulder and turned him down the street toward the bar he had come from. “Come on, Colt. You aren’t doing anyone any favors right now. Just shut up and come with me. And try not to flaunt the fact you are underage. I’ll cover for you this once because I’d rather not have you passing out but you have to work with me. And back rooms can be fun if you’ve got the right company. But I like the beer.”

[Jacob Colter]

"Saying we're not normal is like saying humans aren't normal." Colt growled. "It's like saying there's not supposed to be werewolves, or vampires, or any other kind of supernatural creature in existance. If human beings get the right to live, then why the fuck don't we?" He glared at the ground. "If we were to be caged, then they should be put down; it's only fair, after all."

The skinwalker clenched his hands. "Are you saying that my little sisters and my baby brother should be caged, too? Gonna fuckin' put a gun to their heads and do away with them, just because they can't help how they were born? What right do you have to judge us? We can't help that we were born skinwalkers, just as no human can help the fact that they were born human."

Jacob was proud to be a skinwalker, just like his parents and just like his younger siblings. Cepcia made sure her babies were proud of their heritage, and Colt wasn't just going to stand by and let someone stomp all over that just because they weren't happy with their lot in life.

Colt wasn't ashamed of who he was.

When the mention of Forrest's family came up, Jacob left it alone. He knew better than to pry, seeing how obviously furious the older man was just mentioning them. Instead, he wrapped the jacket tight around himself when it was draped over his shoulders; sniffed deeply for an up-close-and-personal scent of Forrest, rather than just something carried to him on the wind.

"I had a steady supplier." the skinwalker snapped when it came up. "He must have gotten picked up by the cops, and I haven't been able to find anyone else since. Well, that's a lie- I've found plenty of people. None of them were honest, though, and I'm not shelling out good money for tampered goods." At least he was smart enough for that, even if it couldn't technically be called 'smart'.

"You think I'm throwing my life away? I'm really not. I've got a job, and most of the money I make from it goes to my family. Also, just because I'm eighteen doesn't mean I think I rule the world. There are plenty of bigger, better people than me out there, and they're plenty capable of running countries and shooting at one another with nukes. Let them duke it out, and I'll stay over here in my happy corner."

Forrest began to lead him down the street, and Colt followed along like a docile lamb, his eyes fixed on the ground as he tried not to vomit all over the jacket or the pavement. "You obviously don't know me, just like I don't know you." He sounded amused. "It wouldn't be the first time I passed out on the streets. At least I'm smart enough to find a hole to hide in and shift to my dog form if I'm not gonna make it home. No one ever finds me, but who cares. Momma Cepcia knows that if I don't make it home, I'm going to sleep in a hideaway or find a floor to crash on at another skinwalker's house. We take care of our own, just like we take care of the strays."

The farther they walked, the more quiet Jacob became, although he did lean against Forrest's weight to keep himself up when he felt like he wasn't going to make it on his own. At least he wasn't so burried in pride and masculinity that he could do that.

"Hey, Mik..." The younger man's voice was soft. "Was it Frederick who turned you?"

So much for Colt keeping out of that cesspool of anger, but he was curious.

[Forrest Clare]

Forrest let the other man rage. He didn’t care. He knew his views were extreme but he couldn’t get over his anger toward the man that destroyed his sense of normalcy. He didn’t pay heed to Colt’s mention of things like vampires and werewolves. He had no interest in other fictional creatures that were apparently, in fact, real. He flinched ever so slightly as he watched the other’s fists clench. He could smell the adrenaline in the other’s sweat.

“Easy.” He didn’t have it in him to come up with more of a response than that. He didn’t trust himself not to flip out, particularly as the other brought up his younger siblings. “Never said I would do anything to any of them. They didn’t do this to me. Won’t hurt them. Won’t hurt innocent kids. I’m not that bad.” He answered as he rotated his collar slightly on his neck as a nervous habit.

He could see the other’s pride almost as much as he could smell his tension. He supposed it was natural for someone who was born into a loving family. It only made Forrest more uncomfortable though. He could never say that he was proud of his family. Sure he loved his mom but he also hated that she married such a horrible man after his father loved them all so much.

His hatred made him ashamed though and he ducked his head faintly.

Forrest watched Jacob wrapping himself up in the jacket. He also caught the way the other took in a deep breath of his scent on the leather. Perhaps it was a skinwalker thing…or maybe it was just a dog thing. He still didn’t know the proper way to behave around…well he supposed they were his people now. Maybe when Colt wasn’t so twitchy he would ask him about it. Or maybe he wouldn’t.

“Back-ups, kid, back-ups.” He said as he shook his head. “You always have to plan for the worst…particularly if what you are doing is not necessarily on the right side of the law. You need to assume that your guy is going to get picked up and already have someone else who is reliable. It’s like how I have a bar in every borough and a back up bar in most of them. You never know when you are going to need a fix or when your usual source is going to be unavailable for some reason.”

“And most of the rest of your money has to go to keeping you from looking like this right? Because you are eighteen. You aren’t raking in the big bucks. If most goes to the family, what’s left has to go to your habit. And it really isn’t a cheap habit most of the time.” He responded with a shrug of his shoulders. “And I’m not sure I would call your corner happy. I mean I’m sure it’s lovely when you’ve had your fix but when you haven’t…well I wouldn’t say that wandering down the streets of Brooklyn suffering from withdrawal is happy.”

Forrest could almost hear Frederick’s voice in his own words and that made him cringe. He hated sounding like that man who pretended to be a competent and loving father. “You aren’t far from hitting the street right now. You go much longer without a fix and you might not be in any mental state healthy enough to figure out how to be smart about passing out. And you said it yourself. There aren’t many of…us around here. Who is to say you would be found by the right people?”

He fell silent though as he felt Jacob leaning up against him and he moved his arm around the other male’s waist to keep him up. He wasn’t going to have the male pitching face forward onto the pavement if he tripped or suddenly lost control of his motor skills. It was hard not to shove him down though when that question came. It was only the other’s tone of voice that kept him from exploding.

“Frederick is the dick that married my mother after Dad died. I was five when he started dating Mom. I don’t trust him and he will never be my father.”

Mik’s eyes darkened for a moment but they had reached the bar and he had to refocus his priorities. He pushed open the door and led Forrest to a booth in the back. He looked over to the bartender. “My usual. And my old usual for him. Just one though. He just needs to get rid of the shakes.”

[Jacob Colter]

Sitting down warily at the bar, Colt glared around at everyone, his shoulders drawn back and tight despite his shaking. His hands trembled slightly where he had them locked around the counter of the bar, and when he heard Forrest request a drink for him he shot the older man a glance.

The drink was placed in front of him, and Jacob stared at it like he was afraid it was going to blow up for a second. Despite his obvious compulsion to use, he'd never actually drunk any alcohol. The stench of liquor was harder to hide; it was easy to get rid of syringes and heroine bags.

At long last the young male curled his fingers around the glass and knocked it back in one. He slammed the tumbler back on the counter and made a disgusted face. Colt licked the residual taste from his lips before grunting, "Water, please."

The bartender took away the empty glass and gave him water, which Colt used to wash the sharp taste of the alcohol out of his mouth. The rest of the water, which was surprisingly clean and free of metallic tang, went into his belly.

Probably not the best of ideas, as it all nearly came back up again, but Colt just grit his teeth and glared down at the sticky bar. "Nothing else, thanks." he grunted.

There were so many people in here, so many scents, that Colt was starting to feel a bit crowded and claustrophobic. People passed by him constantly, on their way in and out or deeper into the bar, and whenever they brushed up against thim Colt had to resist growling.

It was really hard to bite back his natural instincts, but he managed. It wouldn't do well for Forrest's reputation if he turned into dog right here, right now.

When the seat beside Colt was suddenly not empty, he lowered his head and closed his eyes, fingering at his collar nervously and tugging on the dog tag that had 'Colter' engraved into the smooth, polished silver.

"Hey there, hon." the woman cooed, laying a hand on Jacob's muscled forearm. "You don't look too good. Why don't you come along with me, and I'll see if I can find something to make you feel better."

"Thank you, but no." Colt rumbled, leaning away from her slightly and bringing himself further into Forrest's personal space, but only slightly. "I'm not interested, hon."

The woman, obviously taking his snark for being interested but hard to get, giggled and shifted herself even closer. The only way to put space between them now was for Colt to either get up and walk away, or literally crawl into Forrest's lap. And he would much rather crawl into the surly skinwalker's lap than get up and walking around a bar full of people he didn't know.

"Don't be like that." she said playfully, rubbing a circle into his skin with the pad of her thumb. Maybe it was supposed to be soothing, but hey, what did Jacob know? Nothing much, it would seem. "I could give you a real nice relaxant, and we'd have so much fun together."

Sweet everloving Christ, the woman was an idiot. An idiot looking for sex, and while Colt didn't begrudge her right to scope out a lay in a seedy-looking bar, that didn't mean she had to target him when there were plenty more men who were interested. He carefully removed her hand from his arm and put it down on the bar before leaning away again and curling his hand into a loose fist.

"Look, ma'am, frankly I'm just not interested. You're not my type." he stressed.

She fluttered her lashes at him and pouted. "How would you know if you won't even give me a chance?"

God damn, but she was persistant.

"I don't go for breasts, or vaginas." There. Spoken bluntly, his face hard, and Colt seriously hoped no one detected the waver in his voice. Although knowing Forrest, he probably would.

Colt was very, very uncomfortable right now.

"Oh! You're gay? That's so hot!" She was gushing like a teenager now, bouncing in her seat, and if she kept up with that her breasts were going to bounce right out of her strapless, revealing top.

The urge to vomit was stronger, and it looked like Forrest's 'older usual' had done nothing to help with his shakes. Jacob's need to bolt was getting even worse, and in desperation he leaned himself away from her until Forrest's arm was a warm, solid line down the center of his back.

[Forrest Clare]

Forrest kept his eyes wide open as there drinks were brought. He had ordered something softer for Colt just to take the edge off. He needed to be just a bit more buzzed before he asked for the other’s real drugs. He kept tabs on the bartender’s movements and also on the way the other patrons moved. He knew which ones were users and he wanted to see who they asked for. He had his suspicions but he had no intention of looking like a fool.

He watched the other down the drink in one shot and it made a small smile fall across his lips. He could get behind a kid who could take their alcohol like that. His own beer though was casually sipped and nursed in the crook of the arm he rested on the counter of the bar.

When Colt asked for water, Mik ordered a second beer, though his first wasn’t gone yet. He was going to need liquid confidence and fast if he was going to keep his companion from refinishing the wood counter with his food.

As the bartender brought Colt his water and Mik his second drink, Mik waved him closer. “Bring me Thomas. No games. No tricks. Tell him it’s a no questions asked deal and the offer is only good within the next fifteen minutes.”

Mik knew Thomas from their childhood and he had watched with disdain as the other male turned into a user and then a dealer. The bartender seemed skeptical. “We’re going with my old ways right? Just count this as one of them. I’m not going to tear down my favorite bar.” That seemed to bolster bartender’s confidence and at last he nodded in agreement and disappeared, telling the young pretty girl in the corner she would have to take over bartending for a bit while he worked out a deal.

With business now taken care of, Forrest glanced around the bar. It was more crowded than usual but perhaps he was just out earlier than usual. He felt the people that brushed too close to Colt and he felt the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He had no claim to the boy but he felt unusually protective of him.

He almost jumped when he caught sight of a woman sitting down at Colt’s other side and he felt a low growl rising in the pit of his stomach. What was she doing? She had no right to be that close.

Forrest wanted to respond for Colt when the woman touched him but he kept his head low instead, finishing off his first beer and immediately starting on the second. He didn’t want to cause a scene, not tonight, not with a minor in his presence. He didn’t want to attract undue attention when it could land him jail time.

He felt the boy leaning closer to him but he didn’t mind. He knew Colt was just trying to escape the damn woman who was being so invasive and stupid. Couldn’t she see the boy didn’t appreciate her advances?

This woman was starting to bother Forrest though. He felt almost jealous of the way she was rubbing circles on his arms when Jacob just wanted to escape. As the other male told her that she wasn’t interested, Mik let out a rumbling sound of disapproval from the coil in his chest.

“Just one second, Colt. I’ll be right back. Do not worry.” Forrest whispered as he caught sight of the seedy looking man in the corner standing by the bartender. He slipped away and pulled out his wallet as he walked. They talked quietly for a few minutes before he handed over a few bills and accepted a Ziploc bag, quickly slipping the latter into his jacket before he walked back over to where Colt was explaining that he didn’t go for breasts or vaginas. He could feel the quiver in the other’s voice though and as he felt Colt leaning close, he wrapped his arm protectively around Colt’s waist.

”Sorry for the disappearance, love. Is this woman bothering you?” Mik’s voice was silken smooth as he pressed a faint kiss to Colt’s neck and glared in the woman’s direction. ”Why don’t we go back to my place for a bit? I got what you needed.”

[Jacob Colter]

Really, Colt could have outright whimpered when Forrest moved away, because he was sure he was going to be left on his own. With the older man's disappearance, the woman seemed to become just that much more instistant, reaching out to touch him again.

She pulled her hand back quickly when Forrest, in all of his knight in shining glory, reappeared. Colt felt the skinwalker's strong arm wrap around his waist and gratefully leaned back against him; tilted his head with a faint sound when the man kissed his neck. He hadn't meant to make any kind of sound at all, but it had slipped from him before he could help himself.

The words 'got what you needed' rang in his head and Colt tilted so he could stare up at Forrest, gaze trailing over his jawline and up to his eyes. What did he mean by that? Curious, Colt sniffed the air and detected a faint scent that he knew all too well.

Eagerness unfurled in his belly, spreading warmth through his entire body until his fingers tingled and his toes curled. He gave Forrest a dopey grin and leaned up to mouth once at his jaw, all in an effort to make it seem like they were actually together.

"She is, but I'm sure she can see for herself now that I'm not interested." he replied, his voice deeper and more husky as he selfishly enjoyed the other skinwalker's closeness.

"Oh, so you two are together? That's so hot!"

Colt wanted to groan, but managed to bite down this sound like he couldn't stop the first one. "Yeah, let's go." he mumbled to Forrest, shifting so he could stand up while keeping himself presed up against the older 'walker. "I'm ready to get out of here now."

"Are you guys gonna have sex? Can I watch?" Jesus, but she just never gave up, did she?! Colt glared at her, but the woman didn't seem to care at all, licking her lips as she looked at both of them.

Must resist urge to attack... he thought to himself, turning to hide his face in Forrest's throat for a moment. He drew in a deep breath, pulling in the man's scent along with much-needed oxygen, and found the courage to turn back to her.

"Listen, lady, I'm monagamous, and I'm not into exhibitionism." he said curtly. Well, being pansexual, he was willing to try anything once, but definitely not now and definitely not with her as the watcher.

When he shook his head, his tags jangled angrily, and her eyes dropped to his collar. He saw her chest hitch as her breath stuttered.

"So you're into that whole dom/sub thing?" she stage-whispered, leaning closer to Colt again and grinning. "Are you the sub? Is he a kind Master?"

Colt swallowed loudly, his gray-brown eyes going wide as he blinked at her. Oh for- had she seriously just asked that? Well, might as well play along, since Forrest was the one who had started this whole thing.

"Yeah, I'm the sub, and he's my Master." he replied, rubbing up against Forrest and letting out something suspiciously close to a rumbling purr. His eyes narrowed to slits. "Master doesn't like to share, either."

Finally, she seemed to get it, winking and nodding. "Okay then, I can see there's no action for me here. You two have an awesome night. And you," here she looked at Forrest and grinned, "he's kind of mouthy, isn't he? But you get to punish him in all the best ways."

With that she was gone, and Colt closed his eyes. "I think I want to leave, now." he whispered, grabbing Forrest's hand and dragging him out of the bar.

[Forrest Clare]

Forrest knew it was wrong to leave the other male but he also didn’t want Thomas seeing Colt. He had no desire to introduce Colt to one of the biggest dealers in Brooklyn. It was bad enough that he was getting drugs from him but the least Mik could do to protect Colt was to keep him away from the slime-ball of a human that was Thomas.

He smiled subconsciously as he heard that sound from the other male. He pulled Colt closer against his side and kept his eyes trained on the woman who was working so hard to get into his Colt’s pants. He didn’t know if it was just the alcohol talking or if he was actually starting to care about someone else but he felt overly protective of the boy, like it was up to him to keep Colt from getting into serious trouble.

Forrest nodded when he watched Colt catch the scent of the heroin that was tucked inside the older male’s jacket. He approved of the look the other gave him, almost able to feel Colt’s eyes roaming across his firm jaw and into his own eyes.

”Remember that I’ll take care of you.” He whispered as he caught sight of the other’s bright grin and released a satisfied rumbling as the other’s lips pressed against his jaw.

”I’m looking out for you, Colt. Nobody touches you when you are with me.” He added as he listened to the other explaining in a rougher voice that the woman was indeed making advances on him.

Mik winced at her fawning and gave her a low growl to show his disapproval of her behavior. He nuzzled the younger’s head as Colt stood up at his side and he readjusted his grip so he could keep the boy pressed into his body. ”Of course, lovely. We were only here to take care of some business and now that is done we should get back home.”

He had to restrain himself when the woman asked to watch them though. He bit his tongue as his brows furrowed and his free hand clenched into a fist. His fingernails dug against his flesh and it reminded him that she was just a silly human woman and she was hardly worth the effort it would take. Plus, he was trying to stay within the law as long as he had a minor with him and he certainly wasn’t going to give up Colt for this piece of trash.

He settled his chin on Colt’s head for the moment when the other’s face was pressed into his neck and he closed his eyes, using the moment to regain control of his thoughts and himself. ”And seeing as a) I don’t let strangers into my house and b) I don’t sleep around in hotel rooms, you are most definitely not welcome any time I am with him.” He added, repulsed at the thought that someone else could enjoy him ravishing the lithe body of this boy.

The jangling of the other’s collar almost reassured him though and it settled his rage. It was a reminder that things were still okay, that both of them were the ones with the power in this situation.

”He is mine and he is correct. I do not share well with others.” Forrest growled as he nipped one of Colt’s earlobes and rolled his hips rather suggestively into the boy’s.

He was beginning to quite enjoy this display, particularly the closeness he got to enjoy with Colt. He nodded rather swiftly as the woman said she recognized the fact she would not be getting to join in on any of their action. ”I happen to enjoy his mouth. It’s lovely when it moans for me.” He answered with a wicked sort of grin before she walked off.

”Anything for you.” He answered Colt before he followed the other quickly out of the bar. ”I’ve got a place nearby we can stay. It was a friend’s apartment but they are in Europe for a few months and it’s mine when I want it.”

[Jacob Colter]

As soon as they were outside, Colt shoved Forrest down a dark alley and pushed him up against the wall. Despite his smaller size, he had a broad chest and definite muscles.

"You think it's lovely when I moan for you?" he rumbled, rubbing his nose against Forrest's neck and feeling the scrape of his stubble. "You like my mouth?"

The skinwalker pressed his body up against Forrest's, his ear still tingling from where the older man had nipped it. His ears had always been incredibly sensitive, and so had the back of his neck.

Remembering Forrest's hips rolling against his did drag a moan from Colt; his breath hitched and he shoved his face deeper into the older man's neck, inhaling deeply. Unable to help himself, he flicked out his tongue to taste that skin- a tiny, almost kittenish lick before he was suddenly pulling back.

In the light thrown from the streets, Colt's eyes were dilated, a slight flush on his tanned skin as he looked at Forrest. "Sorry." he rasped. His eyes zeroed in on where the smell of heroine was coming from and another whimper escaped from him.

Suddenly he was pressed against Forrest again, snuffling his way through the man's jacket to find the stash. He followed his nose to where it was, which meant he had to crouch down slightly to find it, and once he did he pulled open the jacket and closed his teeth around the bag. Using his teeth, he pulled the stash from out of it's hiding place; pausing to rub his face against Forrest's stomach before he pulled back fully and stood up.

"Can I?" he asked, pupils blown wide as he stared up at Forrest. "Can I? Can we go to this place? I need... I need."

He did, too. Colt needed it so badly that he was shaking even harder from the thought- from just having the drugs in his hands. Licking his lips, he lifted the bag and sniffed it, his eyes lighting up. It smelled pure, or nearly so.

When he lifted his head, he stared at the older skinwalker with eyes darkened from want for the thing he held in his hands. "Can I?" he repeated hoarsely. "Please?"

While he waited, he let out a whine.