Deuces & Jacks
By Sorin
Poker is a game of skill. It would be a disservice ta the game ta think anything but. Poker can be a man’s life as well, his fortunes changing with the cards, with the bluff. My name is Cade Austin, and by trade I’m a gambler. The life of a gambler is a life on the road. Traveling from game ta game, a life of horses, an hotels, saloons and sometimes cold nights out on the plains. I’ve played at tables from Dodge City ta Saint Louis, even as far as San Francisco.  Tonight I was in a little town, name of Wood Hills, Kansas. The town’s name is pretty decevin’.  Sittin’ out on the plains as it is, about the only wood ta be had comes in for the building of home and shops.  It’s pretty lackin’ in proper hills as well.  It’s a prosperous enough lil place though, on the caravan route out west and a beneficiary of the Cattle Trade, full of farriers, an dry goods stores. Tonight though my focus was in William Slaters Saloon, an on the four men sittin’ across from me.
William Paxton was a man, obviously down on his luck. The older bear wore what on first glance was a nice suit. His poise and manors were that of an educated gent, but his cuffs was frayed speakin’ ta his inability ta replace his jacket.   It has been my experience that a man will give up many things before he even thinks of showin’ that his life might not be perfect.  The fact that he sat at the table with his tattered jacket, an pile of chips made me wonder idly who he might be in hock with in order ta play tonight.  Also, that he was the one that invited me ta sit down and join the game without my inquiry seemed most odd.  Generally, bein’ a stranger I have ta inquire about an empty chair in order ta join in on a game already in progress.  Perhaps he though me an easy mark, after all, I’m young by his eyes and bein’ a rabbit gives me some advantage when playin’ against predators, they think were timid which is an image I do my best ta maintain.
Next ta Mr. Paxton was a Coyote who just introduced himself as Dallas. He’s about my age and looks ta have just come in off the ranch. The chap was all smiles an excitement and I took ta him almost immediately.  Course, it doesn’t hurt that the boy was spendin’ money on drink like he’s stockin’ up for a draught.  Since I figure that means some of that money will make its way inta the pot I was even more partial.  Dallas was a talker to, went on about a lucky drive an a good auction sale, that got him a good profit from cattle.  Not normally somthin ya wanna be spreading around, but the way he was spendin’ it I had doubts if he would have much ta worry about come mornin’.
To the right of me was an older Fennec fox. He introduced himself in a mumble as William Smith and kept his muzzle closed cept when takin’ a drink or askin’ for cards.  Smith was a watcher, kept his eyes on the goins on an seemed more in the Saloon for the company than for the gamblin’.  Lastly, across from me was Mr. Bennet, a wolf dark as night with eyes like gold. He nodded ta me when I sat down an was the only one ta make eye contact. He held the look long enough that I started ta fidget which is a rare thing for me.
One of the most important skills in poker is readin’ tells. Watchin’ for habits a person has when their hand is good or bad.   Most tells are in the eyes an faces.  You can read a man quick enough if ya have the skill.  Everyone’s got tells, though most will deny it. If you’re practiced at looking for them, an readin’ people it’s often easy ta pick out tells. This is particularly true with people who don’t play card professionally.
Dallas was an easy one ta read.  I’m sure the drink didn’t help. It also didn’t help that he had a cute way of bitin’ his lip when he got a good hand and was hopin’ the play would go his way. I’ll admit, through the night I lost a few smaller hands I could’a won just ta see his face light up as he gathered the chips. Now before ya ask, yup, I’m one of those. Partial ta my own gender, which is not a fact I tend ta make known ta most folks.
Now Mr. Smith on the other paw was a difficult read at first. He kept his cards high, mostly over his eyes, not a hard feat since his back was bent with age an he hunched at the table. It took me a few hands lost, and a few hands won, ta pick out that his tells were in his ears. Tiny twitches for a good hand, tiny flicks for a bad.  Mr. Paxton fell right in the middle. As the night wore on, and he lost more of his money ta me and Mr. Bennet he grew frustrated an angry, easier ta read. It never ceases ta amaze me how a player will stay in the game when their as desperate as Mr. Paxton seemed ta be.
Many don’t realize it, but there is a skill to bettin’ in poker. The trick ya see, is ta bet enough that the other man thinks he could pull himself out of a loosin’ streak with the next hand, but not so much that ya scare him off. Mr. Paxton was bettin’ as though he was trying ta end a losing streak in one hand an encourgin’ us ta do the same. Truth be told I have no problem takin’ money from a man that don’t seem ta know better, and it became pretty apparent that Mr. Bennet didn’t either.
The game started out friendly enough.  Everyone was in high spirits, money changin’ hands easy enough and the pots small enough that they didn’t cause us ta fret.  I can’t speak for myself but I’m sure the Buxom Doe that brought us whisky an cigars when we asked was a good boost ta the mood around the table.  I did my part, smiling when she came by, thankin’ her for my drinks and makin’ the motions of eyin’ her cleavage like the other men were doin’.
As the shadows through the dusty windows started ta get long the Saloon began ta fill up with the workin’ folk of Wood Hills.  The Doe began ta spend more time around our table, an who can blame her with Dallas tippin’ like he was for each drink.  The pots started ta grow and I started ta see the other gent’s tells more clearly.  All except Mr. Bennets who maintained that same intense look whenever I met eyes with him.
We lost Mr. Smith first, early on in the night. Cleaned out as he appeared ta be he excused himself polite enough, and wished us a good night of it as well. It’s a nice change ta meet someone who can handle loosin’ as well as winnin’ and I make a point of tipping my hat ta um in either case.
Dallas was the next ta go. It was a shame since I had rather enjoyed watchin’ him through the night.   The view of a cute face was probably the closest I was likely ta get ta intimate male company in a little town like Wood Hills so, understandably, I was sad ta see it come ta an end.  Regardless, the retreat up the stairs despite the swaying, or perhaps because of it, was a pleasant momentary distraction.
Intensity fell upon the game now that we was down ta Bennet, myself, an Paxton. Mr. Paxton grew more frustrated with each hand he lost ta me or Mr. Bennet. The game continued though, more money gathering on the table each hand. Mr. Paxton, who seemed ta be trying ta win back his lost money, bet increasingly larger sums, forcing us ta match him ta stay in.  It was a strategy that spoke more clearly of desperation, so much so that I could tell even those watchin’ the game could see it.
Unluckily for Mr. Paxton, the cards were not in his favor.  By the last hand Mr. Paxton was in a state.  Seekin’ ta get him ta quit one way or the other I matched bets with him and Mr. Bennet hopein’ ta make him fold out, turn in for the night an sleep off the drink.  Ta my surprise, Mr. Paxton went all in as though he felt fate owed him.  I saw his toothy grin as he got his cards, his eyes falling on the sum in the middle of the table. With an almost predatory slyness, he laid down a straight, one card at a time, like he was savoring the moment of his win. With a soft grunt, Mr. Bennet laid his cards down on the muck, a pair of 6’s. Paxton looked ta me, and perhaps it was my timid act what set him ta thinkin’ he had won before the cards were all laid.  His eyes grew wider, his smile more victorious if that’s possible, and with eager greed he reached for the pot.  He froze when I held out my hand.  His eyes narrowed at me an inkling of what was happenin’ in them before he even realized. Without any flourish I lay my cards down spreading them with a finger, Seven, Six, Five, Four, Three, five red hearts catching the lamp light.
“No…” His voice was soft almost under his breath. “It can’t be…you cheated.” I lowered my ears slightly, I can’t stand a sore loser, but my livelihood was at stake so I reached out ta gather the winnings.  From the corner of my eye I saw the Doe commin’ over ta the table.  Perhaps she through ta calm him with her feminine wiles, she had after all made quite a tidy sum from us over the evnin’ and fights are bad for business.
“You blasted cheat!” he howled standing up, his legs bumping the table back into me with enough force ta knock the wind from me. Suddenly the sleepy Saloon was filled with frantic motion. The doe, wide eyed, wide scrambled back from Mr. Paxton. At the same time a drunk prospector, a fox I think, at the table next ta us threw himself ta the ground.  My chair teetered back, and I was suddenly aware of the room moving in slow motion. I turned back in mute surprise and see Paxton lifting his colt, eyes ablaze with fury.
Like any self respectin’ frontier gambler, I was heeled. I fumbled for my own peacemaker feeling the chair rock back more, knowin’ I was never get my piece up in time. The shot rang out like a thunder clap. I closed my eyes expecting the bloom of pain, the sharp impact knockin’ me back ta the floor.
A groan, which was surprisingly not my own caused me ta open my eyes. Paxton stood with his gun by his side a look of surprise on his face. The scent of powder hit my nose, and I looked ta my right. Bennet still sat, though his eyes were narrowed. In his hand rested his own colt, from the barrel a tendril of smoke drifting lazily towards the ceiling. The wolf picked himself up from his chair slowly gun still leveled on Paxton.
“This can end here and now Paxton, or ya can get yer self shot again, choice is yers ta make.” Bennet’s voice was quiet, and I caught a hint of an accent I wasn’t familiar with. Paxton continued ta stare his paw over his shoulder the fur of his hand and his clothing starting ta stain red.
“Ya shot me…” He spoke as though he couldn’t believe it, eyes wide. With a clatter, the gun fell from his hand.
“Get ya winnings Mista Austin, it’s time ta leave.” I nodded, still a bit in shock at what had transpired.  “Mr. Austin!”  His sharp tone snapped me out of my reverie and I quickly scooped the coins and notes into my saddle bag. Bennet plucked his duster from the chair he had been sitting at draping it over his shoulder and slipped his piece into its holster.  “After ya.” He said gesturing ta me than the door with his muzzle.
The night air was cold which helped clear my head. The sounds were more muted than the Saloon letting my ears get a bit of a rest.  The lanterns hanging from the storefronts cast pools of yellow light that made the outdoors seem more peaceful. Despite the hour the street was still bustling, more so because of the shots, curious passersby looked on ta see what the commotion was.
“Thank ya” I said quietly and Bennet nodded.
“T’was nothin’, he was spoiling for a fight, was gonna’ come down ta him winnin’ or the barrel of a gun, I could see it in ‘is eyes.” I nodded in agreement. The silence was suddenly broken by a crash behind us, and a shriek from a young bobcat standin’ next ta me, facing the Saloon. A bearish bellow echoed down the street and before I could turn, a shot rang out. I felt a burning along my arm that took my breath away.
I finally convinced my legs ta turn, feeling like I was stuck in Molasses. A white heat pulsed down my arm as I reached for my piece. Once again Mr. Bennet was faster. While the rest of the street scrambled in slow motion the wolf’s colt slid from its holster as though it had been greased. Lamp light glinted from the barrel.  Bennet’s gun replied thrice ta Mr. Paxton’s. The first shot struck Paxton in the shoulder setting him ta an about face. The second struck him in the side. The third planted him face down in the dust.
I stared, the street was silent. Slowly the noise began ta return ta the streets, shocked silence turning into murmurs.  Cautiously, the people huddled in their doorways or under any cover they could find began ta come out ta look over the carnage. I had always prided myself on my speed, but Bennet had me beat hands down. I found myself thinking how I was glad ta be alive, an equally, that his speed wasn’t turned ta me.
Mr. Bennet  slipped his pistol back into its holster and turned away from the body in the street. I got the immediate sense from him that this wasn’t the first man he’d killed and wouldn’t be the last either. People were slowly moving towards the body of Mr. Paxton.  One man, I think the Saloon owner was callin’ for a doctor, I had a feeling it was too late for that.
“Come on Austin.” Bennet’s growl snapped me back. “Lets get off the street an tend ta yer arm.” The pain returned than, fightin’ for my attentions and I almost doubled over. I don’t know how I made it back ta the Hotel; I think I remember Bennet supporting me. I clearly remember his scent.  The next thing I clearly remember was sittin’ on a bed in what must be his room cause I don’t rightly remember fetchin’ my key. My shirt was draped over the desk chair an he was washin’ my arm from the basin.
“Where did ya learn ta shoot like that?” I asked suddenly.
“Army…” he grunted softly, leaning in closely ta inspect the wound on my arm. “Think it will suffice with a bindin’, no stitches for ya today Austin.”  A man doesn’t learn ta shoot a pistol with that kind of speed an accuracy from the Army, but I wasn’t about ta call out someone who just saved my life, so I let it go.
“Cade, my names Cade, I feel a man who saved my life should know.” He nodded.
“Dustin Bennit.” My breath caught in my throat.
“The Dustin Bennit? The gunfighter from Dodge.” I caught a hint of a smile and a nod from him.
“Yup, that would be me.” His fingers returned ta deftly binding up my arm as I took that in. This may sound a bit naive on my part, after all the talk of readin’ a fellow.  He finished bindin’ my arm tight an I expected a good night an ta be sent on my way.  
What happened next took me completely by surprise. Dustin kissed me. Not a brush on the cheek, like could be excused as his muzzle leanin’ in close ta inspect the dressing. He full on kissed me, muzzle ta muzzle and the warmth of his tongue slipped into my mouth, past my lips. I gasped softly catching myself on my arms so I was sort of leaning back as he leaned in pressin’ himself into the kiss with an eager aggressiveness that had the blood pulsing in my ears, and surging in my sheath.
By the time his muzzle broke from mine I was panting, not wantin’ it ta end. He grinned, his tongue peeking out of his own muzzle in a pant.
“How did you know?” I asked, breathless.
“Mmm, ya got tells bunny.” His grin was sly and he leaned in for another kiss. I didn’t stop him. Our lips pressed together, my moan escaping into his muzzle. His arm slipped behind my back, supporting me.  Gently as his tongue caressed inside my mouth. I fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, feeling his fingers kneed my back, drifting down ta play with my cotton soft tail.
I opened his shirt, pushing my fingers into the thick warm fur of his chest. I could definitely smell him now. His lupine musk hung around us, male, strong. It had been so long I could feel myself throb, more so when his fingers brushed over the strainin’ excitement in my trousers. My belt fell away sliding from the bed with a thump of the holster on the plank floor. I continued ta trail my hand through his thick fur losing myself in the play of it between my fingers.
Lost, at least until his fingers found my ears. Now I know you’ve heard ‘bout rabbits ears. If I’m a usual specimen than it’s all true. His fingers trailed along my ears sending a shudder through my entire body.  Little, quite unmanly whimpers escaped from my muzzle as he stroked me softly. I lost my self a second time in as many moments ta those fingers along my ear. His breath was hot, panting softly against my lips and I felt the lumpy softness of the mattress under me as I laid back.  My hands fell ta his trousers, fumbling in my eagerness. A growl from him made me shiver as I freed his confined pride. He kicked his trousers off with one leg, planting his paws on either side of my head, muzzle slightly opened as he panted above me.
There is somthin’ instinctual about a big predator pinnin’ ya and I most definitely felt is when he sat astride my chest.  I could smell his excitement long before his length got within reach of my muzzle.  I took him inta my mouth caressing the head with lips and tongue as he growled above me.  His poignant taste made my tongue tingle an my ears feel all warm.  I placed a paw on his hip as I continued to tease him drawing out soft huffing growls when my tongue would find an especially delicious spot in which to linger a spell.
I felt his hand reach back workin ta free the buttons on my trousers as I continued ta tease him with my mouth.  I almost whimperd as he pulled away from me, slippin’ from my chest ta remove the constrainin` pants.  Dustin pulled the boots off my feet with a clumsy urgency, tossin` them ta the side ta join my belt. I lifted my hips ta assist as my trousers slide down my legs, and I looked up at Dustin with what I bet was a slightly dopy grin, but I was pretty lost in my need at the moment. He knelt over me, powerful and predatory. His golden eyes glowed with a hunger that had nothing ta do with food. 
I brought my paws up ta caress him, feeling the warm flesh.  It was still slightly slick from my mouth, an from the muskiness that was now seepin` freely from the tip.  His gasping growl was almost as out of character in it’s need, as my moan, and from the way he was leakin’ I surmised it had been a while for him as well.  The slick musky essence matted the fur of my fingers as I drew um back over the tip. His fingers closed around my own excitement stroking slowly, an it was all I could do ta keep from loosin’ it all over my stomach at his touch. My paws fell from his length ta the sheets squeezing the beddin’ as he teased a finger over my tip.
“You gonna’ continue ta check lil rabbit? Or is it time ta show our hands?” His growl was harsh, lusty in my ear.  Every nerve in my body sang as he rubbed over my tip, an I was almost at the point of beggin’ when he stopped. His fingers left my length slipping under my knees lifting my legs up and I felt his weight shift on the mattress as he moved closer.  Heat seemed ta radiate from his arousal as I felt the tip press against me. He hunched over me, cocking his head slightly as though ta ask if I was ready.  What was a man ta do, I nodded and with no more hesitation he pushed up inside me.
Now I ain’t new ta the intimate attentions of a male but Dustin was more impressively gifted than any of  the other chaps I’d been blessed ta share a night with. A cry escaped my muzzle as his girth entered me. As my body relaxed around him, I felt his tongue on my neck licking softly. Slowly he started ta move his hips letting me get used ta him as he slowly worked himself deeper into me. My soft hisses and clenches slowly turned ta groans meant only for his ears as he moved inside me, his paws sliding down my legs ta my hips, drawing me in towards his lap.
His fingers clenched on me as I moaned with his thrusts. I could feel his knot now, bumping gently at my already strained opening. His powerful arms were wrapped around me, hugging me ta his chest as his breath huffed warmly against my neck. My soft moans turned ta something more desperate at the unrelenting assault.
The suddenness of my climax took me by surprise. The intensity flared inside my belly like a white hot flame as I released my frustration, lust and need in a surging burst of warmth matting wolfs black fur. I would not be surprised if the hotel keeper thought Dustin was murderin’ me up here, what with the loud cry I uttered. I sagged inta his arms, feelin’ drained in every inch of my body. Dustins hips continued ta thrust, steady like a pulse, moments later driving forward with a sudden snarling surge.
We clung ta each other for minuets that seemed ta stretch into hours. Outside the hotel the sounds of the town at night began ta filter into the room an our perceptions. The soothing clop of hooves and the creak of wagon wheels, quiet voices down on the walk gave a sudden strange mundane feel ta the situation . Slowly the intensity faded and after a time Dustin withdrew himself and settled down, his arms holding me ta him.
“Where do yer travels take ya next Cade?” His voice sounded sleepy, a satisfied rumble ta it.  I relaxed into his arms the lingering scents of our passion relaxing me, rather than exciting me now.  
“On ta Denver, I hear there’s a poker tournament there that has my name on it.” I grinned slightly looking back at him.  He returned the grin, adding a lot more teeth, which would have worried me if he had done it earlier this evenin’.
“Mmmm…I have a feeling if I was there I’d give ya a run for your money Austin.”  His fingers trailed along my slim chest an over my spent sheath
 “Perhaps, but we never managed ta finish tonight’s game , so we’ll never know.”  I squirmed slightly ta let him know I appreciated the attention, though I knew I was spent at least for a time.
“I think, after tonight, ya need someone ta look after ya bunny.” I didn’t object so after a moment he continued.  ”Maybe I’ll travel with you a spell, if you’ll have me?” I smiled more and pressed my muzzle against his chest nodding.  Findin’ a traveling companion of similar persuasion ta myself is a pretty rare thing, and I will admit that perhaps I jumped a little fast at the opportunity.
In poker the worst hand you can have that takes more than luck is a pair. I’ve won with a high card before but I would never choose ta bet high stakes on it. Lookin’ at Dustin in the moonlight as he drifted off ta sleep I got ta thinking.  Frontier life is hard, especially for gamblers an gunfighters.  Maybe in poker a pair is a low hand ta rise on, but in this game, the game of my life I felt Sure I could stay in the game jus a little easier with a pair of jacks.