It's Always Something - 7. Chapter 7

Cameron and Taylor co-owned a four-bedroom, three-bathroom, two-story Cape Cod house three blocks from the Dog and Butterfly. The outside was grey, with first and second-floor porches and the entry was a white, full-length frosted glass panel door with two slender frosted glass panels on either side. The inside was an open floor plan decorated in a fun beach style. When the sun set, the living room's recessed pot lighting shined down on the seashells, sand dollars, and starfish randomly placed along the light blue walls, there was pastel-colored cushioned wicker furniture, and the light-colored laminate flooring that ran through the entire house. The kitchen walls were a soft white-yellow, and there was open floating frosted glass shelving on the walls for the plates, glasses, and coffee mugs, which added to the airy openness of the home. The decor reflected the playful and fun personalities of the owners.

Cameron stood at the bottom of the stairs, dressed in a white tank top that showed every one of his six-pack abs, and was covered by a tan long-sleeve shirt. The black jeans accentuated the six-foot-tall, one-hundred-seventy-pound Irishman's plump ass, and they clung to his thirty-two-inch waist and slender muscle-toned legs. Red curly locks bounced on his head as his nimble fingers ran through them. He sat on the bottom step, pulled the dark blue insulated snow boots on his size eleven-and-a-half white athletic ankle sock-clad feet, wrapped a green and grey striped scarf around his neck, placed a black knit hat on his head, grabbed the thin black gloves that were on the handrail, then shrugged on the grey puffy winter coat, and opened the door.

The bite from the icy cold breeze made the redhead sharply inhale as he quickly put on the gloves. The original plan was to shovel the sidewalk and driveway so his brothers could park in front of the two-car garage that housed his and Taylor's SUVs and motorcycles. However, after feeling the cold and seeing the amount of snow, Cameron decided to magically speed up the process. His sparkling green eyes glowed as he recited his incantation. "This snow is pretty but cannot stay. Clear it from the sidewalk and driveway." A wave of energy swept through the areas and quickly uncovered the pavement and concrete. The witch smiled as he nodded in satisfaction. He was about to go back inside, but the sight of all the snow brought out the inner kid in him. Although truth be told, his inner child didn't need much coaxing to surface.

Passing neighbors chuckled at the sight of the grown man happily making snow angels. He tossed the white substance into the air and used his magic to create various designs as it fell to the ground. Cameron built a snowman in the center of the front lawn. When his guy was finished, he stepped back and thoughtfully assessed his work. His hand slightly moved this way and that to move the balls of snow until they were perfectly centered. Puffs of breath were visible when boyish giggles escaped his pink lips as he put his scarf on the man of snow and conjured a hat to place on his head. It still needs a little something extra, Cameron thought to himself. Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and hopped up and down in child-like excitement. "My snowman's boring this much is true. Give him sparkly colors of pink and blue." A few seconds later, the snowman was glittering with a pink top half and a blue bottom half.

"That's the most interesting snowman I've ever seen."

Cameron turned to face the speaker, and a look of unhappiness replaced his smile. Standing before him was one of the most disgustingly prejudiced believers in entitlement he'd had the displeasure to meet, a world-class snob and all-around jerk, Garland Horatio Masters IV. A long black overcoat covered the professionally tailored grey sport coat and matching slacks he wore. A white oxford shirt and black tie hid the man's slightly hairy chest and taut stomach. The size ten-and-a-half brown two-and-a-half-inch heeled boots and black fedora completed the outfit that clothed the spoiled blonde-haired five-foot-ten, one-hundred-sixty-pound male's body. The twenty-six-year-old's physical appearance was one-hundred-and-fifty percent more beautiful than his inside and offensive personality.

"Of all the yards in the world, yeh had to walk into mine," Cameron spat as he started walking towards the house. "I'm not in the mood for yer bullshit, yeh blitherin' idiot."

Garland walked up to and grabbed hold of the witch's arm. His hazel eyes shimmered as he watched the fire inside start to spark. "Come now, Cammer, is that any way to speak to someone you love?" He knew this would set the Irishman off. Also, he had to ensure that his butler, who'd slipped into the house via the back door, had the time to reach the witch's bedroom and retrieve the worn underwear and socks from his clothes hamper. Garland had a fetish for the natural musky scents that some men created when clothed.

Cameron spun around and jerked his arm away. "Love, you, are yeh daft, man? I don't fuckin' like you, let alone love you."

Garland chuckled and further invaded the redhead's personal space. "You know that's not true, my beautiful fiery redheaded beast. Especially not after I had you screaming in my bed for my cock to enter that gaping hole of yours."

Cameron's eyes darkened and started glowing. "I never fucking screamed for you to do a damn thing except release me after you'd drugged me and tied me to your bed, you Goddamned rapist."

"That's it, my Irish wild man. Fuck, I love it when you get worked up."

Garland pinned the witch against the side of his house, and his palm cupped and fondled the redhead's jeans-clad crotch. He was about to lean in to forcibly kiss the agitated male, but the right hook of the redhead's balled-up fist stopped him. The blonde stumbled backward and fell on his ass. "You always did throw a mean punch, sexy," he said as his tongue licked away the little bit of blood from his lip. His eyes were wild with lust, and there was a pronounced bulge in his pants.

"Get the fuck off of my property before I call Uncle John and have yeh arrested, you sick bastard." Cameron fumed as he stood on the bottom step of his front porch with the phone in his hand.

Garland got to his feet just as his cell alerted him to an incoming text. At the same time, he heard a low, menacing growl.

Taylor Stormcloud's six-foot-one, one-hundred-eighty-five-pound body stood behind the trespasser, his biceps quivering as the raven-haired Cherokee flexed them. "Touch Cammer again, and there won't be a big enough piece of your body left to identify." His nostrils flared from the putrid scent of Garland's arousal.

Garland sneered and spat on Taylor's leather motorcycle jacket. "I'll go, but the least you could do is muzzle and leash that mangy cur. You need to learn your place, mutt." He walked down the street to where his black Cadillac Escalade was parked, got into the back seat, and giggled like a schoolboy as he opened the bag beside him and deeply inhaled the delectable aroma of the contents inside. "Drive up to the stop sign, then turn around and park across the street."

The butler remained silent as he followed his employer's instructions.

"Are you ok, Cam," Taylor asked as he embraced his best friend.

Cameron sniffled and composed himself, letting the comfort and protective feeling of the powerful wolf calm him. Memories of them always being there for each other when needed played through his mind. "As always, wolfie, yeh showed up when I needed you. I was about to lose my self-control and use magic on the bastard. You know how guilty I feel afterward unless I'm in physical danger," he paused and giggled. "Don't forget to get yeh jacket cleaned, Tay. Yeh don't wanta be catchin' Garland's cooties."

Taylor shook his head and chuckled. "Don't worry, Irish boy, I got my yearly cootie shots yesterday." He ruffled his brother's hair. I know, you do. I'm always gonna be here for you. I love you." The wolf turned around and finally noticed the snowman. He raised his eyes to the heavens and sighed as he pointed at the glittering creation. "Really, Cammer?"

Cameron giggled. "What? Tommy needed to pop."

Taylor threw his head back and laughed, then kissed the side of the witch's head. "Did ya have to make Tommy look like a giant blob of cotton candy?"

As soon as the wolf turned to go inside, a bunch of snow flew into his back. He turned around and playfully growled at the innocently giggling Cameron as he tackled the redhead, and they wrestled in the snow. Their laughter and squeals filled the air around the house. Spectators chuckled and shook their heads at the two overgrown boys playing in the snow.

Fabien pulled into the driveway and shut down the engine. He and Rhylan giggled at the snowman and shared a quick kiss before getting out of the vehicle. They could feel the energy in the air. Their ears heard it sizzle and pop. It was invigorating as well as energizing. The teens shared a look before running to join their brothers.

"I got the big one," Rhylan hollered as he executed a flying leap and landed on top of Cameron.

"Some mate you are, wolf boy. You always take the big one and leave me the bigger one." Fabien playfully whined as he pounced on Taylor.

The older and younger brothers became an animated pile of limbs as they all tried to take each other down. Cameron's high-pitched squeal blended with Fabien's as their bodies thrashed and writhed in the powdery substance on the ground when their wolf brother's cold hands latched onto and tickled their bare ribs and stomachs. After another few minutes, the four sweat-soaked, heavily breathing young men ended the playtime in the snow. They got to their feet, brushed each other off, and then shared hugs and kisses as they walked inside the warm house.

In the backseat of his SUV, Garland watched Cameron playing in the snow. His eyes glazed over in sheer ecstasy when his younger brother showed up. He only wished the wolves weren't there to spoil his fantasy of having the O'Leary males to play with. Garland's hand gently caressed his dick as he rubbed himself to his desired orgasm. "Home, now," the blonde growled once he stopped panting from his arousal.