“There has to be a shooting range within the city limits,” Thomas said, getting out of the armadillo’s pickup. It had taken a good half hour to reach the place, once they’d gotten onto the I35 from the beltway. The building they were parked in front of was low and large and looked to be made of concrete. The large window was plastered over with pictures of guns put there halfazardly, with a large sign reading “Hugh’re Shooting Range.”

“Definitely,” Laurence said, as Thomas tried to work out what the intent might be. “But this is the closest one that met all my requirements.”

A deep-red General-Ford sports car came to a stop three spots away, making it the only non-pickup vehicle in the lot out of the five there. It also didn’t fit by looking as if it had come out of the showroom only minutes before getting to the lot. Unlike the pickups, which all looked like they’d been on the road for a few years, even Laurence’s better maintained one still showed use. 

“You’re Shooting Range,” Thomas exclaimed.

Laurence looked at the sign as he lifted the cover. “Oh, yeah. Hugh thought it was clever.” He took out a rifle case and Thomas looked into the bed. It was filled with cases of varying sizes, slotted into home made organizer, to keep them from sliding around while the truck moved. Thomas made out a large safe just before Laurence closed the cover. It reminded the rat of his grandfather’s, and he wondered what might be in that, when there was an arsenal just there to be taken.

“What do you expect me to use?” Felix asked, after Laurence batted the otter’s hand away from the cover.

“Whatever strikes your fancy inside. One of my requirement was that the gun range I’d use needed to rent and sell quality firearms, and not just what the weekend amateur wants.” He paused. “But Hugh sells some of those, too.” He led them inside, then paused, smiling as he took in the guns and rifles displayed on the wall.

Thomas nearly whistled in amazement at the sheer number of them. When the armadillo sighed, Thomas glanced at him then down at his well-filled crotch.

Laurence snorted. “I’m not that kind of Rowling.”

Two things, then. Thomas had to work on his subtlety. And did that mean there were some in Laurence’s family who got turned on by gun?

“Hugh!” Laurence called to the antelope behind the counter. “My friends are going to need rifles. They have a score to settle.”

“Mister Rowling.” The antelope’s voice was surprisingly deep for how thin he was. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.” He beamed as he looked the armadillo over. The visible fur on his arm was a shimmering light-brown, going white on the inside. His long horns were etched with Celtic knots in a red deeper than Felix’s car.

“Laurence,” the armadillo said with a sigh. “I told you before, since we had sex, you drop the mister. Otherwise you’re making me feel like my dad.”

The antelope rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say.” He looked at Thomas and Felix. “What are your preferences?”

“The most expensive rifle you have,” the otter stated.

“How much is the rental?” Thomas asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Laurence said dismissively. “Put his on my bill. Felix can pay for his own.”

“Then, if you have that, I’ll use a Nosler S320,” Thomas said. This had been Laurence’s idea after all, so he didn’t argue with him paying.

“How about you get him the 487, instead?” the armadillo asked. “This is a shooting match, not a stunning one.”

“A rifle’s a rifle,” Thomas said, repeating what his father said anytime Magnus started talking about the quality of this one compared to that one. Eric’s father could be difficult about which rifle he’d allowed when he took the family hunting during their Christmas visit.

“Tha—” Laurence sputtered, staring at the rat. He shook himself. “That would get you kicked out of my family.”

“Good thing I’m a Hertz and not a Rowling, then,” Thomas replied with a shrug. Hugh handed Felix a rifle.

“What is this?” the otter asked as the antelope turned to head away. He turned it in his hand, studying it.

“A Remington Elite 229,” Hugh answered, his tone neutral.

“And you don’t have anything more expensive?” Felix continued looking the firearm over, but didn’t look impressed.

“I have a 452, with gold plated stock,” the antelope said. This time the neutrality sounded forced. “But it’s nothing more than this one with more decorations.”

“I’ll take that one,” Felix said.

Hugh caught the rifle before the otter dropped it on the counter. “Are you sure? I’m telling—”

“The 452,” Felix said firmly, then added a pained, “Please.”

Laurence shook his head as the antelope opened his mouth, and Hugh went to the back.

Felix rolled his eyes and mouthed. “Can you believe it?”

Thomas kept silent, as did Laurence.

The clerk returned with two rifles. The one he handed Felix was a good-looking firearm; it was polished to a shine and had gold filigree that went from the stock to the grip. By comparison, the one he handed to Thomas was scuffed and scratched. The stock had cracked at one point and been patched using wood putty. This was clearly a well-used weapon.

“I’m going to need a case,” Felix said, looking over his rifle with a satisfied smile.

“The range’s just through that door, Fel,” Laurence said.

“Do you expect me to carry this around in the open?” the otter retorted. “It’s going to get scratched.”

And get him arrested, Thomas figured. Which felt like it should be the more important concern.

“This is just a match,” the armadillo replied. “And you don’t even have the—” he paused as Felix handed over his firearm’s license to the antelope.

Hugh studied it, then nodded. “Your owner’s registration will be with the case after your match, sir.”

This time, Thomas did whistle in amazement at the amount Felix was spending. The otter didn’t even look at the price as he handed his card to pay. Thomas was surprised to see that was the regular red and gray of the same credit card company his father used, instead of gold.

He leaned to Laurence and whispered. “How good is that rifle?”

The armadillo shrugged and spoke in a normal tone. “The weapon’s no better than the person holding it.” Felix rolled his eyes and picked it up, holding it with the muzzle pointed up. Thomas held it in the crook of his arm, the way Magnus had taught him that first visit Thomas had been allowed to go hunting with him, his father and Victor and followed Laurence through the door.

The shooting range was deep, with individual stalls and counter. The armadillo stopped by a vending machine and pointed to a stall. Thomas went there and inspected the chamber. The outside might be in rough condition, but the inside looked clean, which Thomas figured was a good thing.

Laurence placed five magazines on his and Felix’s counter. “You’re is auto-wrack.” He motioned for the rifle. “You slide a magazine in like this, and you’re ready to go.” He handed it back and pointed to the headsets hanging on the side of the stalls. “Ear protection first.” He took a set of foam plungers from his pockets while Thomas took a headset designed to cover his rat ears.

“You both get one magazine to familiarize yourself with the rifle,” Laurence said, putting one of the plunger in his ear. “The next four will be calculated. Highest score wins. You argue and you’re disqualified,” he added as Felix opened his mouth. “That means you don’t take part in the reward.”

Thomas put the headset on and adjusted it so it didn’t press against his pavilion, then put the rifle to his shoulder, took the stance his father and grandfather have drilled into him, lined up the shot, pressed the trigger and—

The hand at his back kept the recoil from throwing him off his feet.

“You okay?” Laurence asked, and Thomas was surprised at how clear his voice was as he rubbed his shoulder. It was like there was nothing covering his ears, even if he hadn’t heard the shot at all.”

“I wasn’t expecting that.” He moved his shoulder and winced at the pain. He was going to have quite the bruise.

Felix smirked and put his own rifle up.

“That’s the big difference between a sports and real rifle,” the armadillo said.

“A stunner rifle is a real rifle,” he countered.

“The fact you don’t need a licence to own ones says differently,” Laurence replied with a small smirk.

Thomas wondered if it was a good idea to mention Magnus’s collection of classic rifles, which included stunners, and decided against it. The last thing he wanted was for the cause of Laurence’s fall out of lust with his father to be because it had been transferred to his grandfather. Maybe the armadillo didn’t get turned on by firearms, but Thomas suspected men owning firearms were an entirely different thing.

Thomas spent a minute following Laurence’s instruction on how to adjust his stance compared to the one he’d been taught. He settled the butt firmly against his shoulder this time. When he fired a second time, the recoil pushed him back, instead of slamming into his shoulder, and the new bracing stance kept him from falling.

“I know how to shoot,” Felix said, as Laurence tapped his feet further apart.

“Those little city gun, sure. But you’re holding yourself wrong for a rifle.”

“I’m doing fine,” the otter replied, attempting to shoulder the armadillo away.

Thomas focused on the ten bullets he had left to get a feel for how the rifle responded. Other than the stance to absorb the recoil’s energy and the recoil itself, this wasn’t much different than shooting the hunting rifle he used at his grandfather’s. As he took the empty magazine out, he noticed the otter looking at him impatiently.

“Alright,” Laurence said. “So four magazine; forty-eight bullets.” He tapped a code on Felix and Thomas’s stall and the target appeared at the end of the range. “The point system’s standard. More points the closer to the center you hit. The points appear over the target and I can’t tell the system not to do that, so don’t let it distract you.” He put his case on the counter of his stall and took the rifle out.

“Oh, Law,” Feliz called, peering around his divider. “Just to be clear, when I win, I get the rat’s ass and you get nothing.”

“Sure, I can hold it until I’m at the frat.” He glared at the otter. “Now, stop stalling. You’re here to shoot the rifle, not your mouth.” He disappeared behind his partition.

Thomas took his time lining up to his target; adjusting after each shot. When he put in the next magazine, Feliz and Laurence were ahead of him. Without hearing the shots, he couldn’t know how many bullets they’d fired. And he didn’t care who won. He was getting fucked, regardless. As haughty as the otter was, he was still a good fuck.

After that magazine, Thomas noticed the score over Felix’s target wasn’t going up anymore, while Laurence’s ticked up fifty points every few seconds.

Thomas’s score surpassed Felix on the seventh bullet of the magazine. He felt the otter glaring at him, but continued with the careful firing, even knowing he’d won. 

Once the last magazine was empty he placed the rifle on the counter and looked at the score. He did the calculation on Laurence’s score of two thousand four hundred, and realized all the armadillo’s shot had hit bullseye. Thomas’s grouping was nowhere near that tight, but the margin between his score and Felix showed it had been good enough.

“I was done in half the time,” Felix protested as Laurence took his pants off.

“And if it’d had been a speed shooting contest, you’d have scored higher on that.”

Thomas licked his lips, staring at the Armadillo’s cock, then noticed motion and his ears burned when he realized a woman, a collie a few stalls away was staring at them.

“Out of those, Thomas,” Laurence said.

“Maybe we should do that back at the house?” Thomas pointed. “We’re kinda not alone.”

The armadillo looked over his shoulder. “Jasmine,” he called, “unless you’re going to grow a dick in the next minute, mind giving us a few? Newbie still got stage fright.” 

She shrugged, grabbed a case from her stall, and headed for the door. Thomas stared at Laurence in surprised.

“What? Did you think all my requirements for picking this place were about the guns?”

“Why did we bother keeping our pants on then?” Felix complained, undoing his belt.

“Oh no, you don’t, Chouteau,” Laurence said, pointing at the otter while continuing to look at Thomas. “You said that the loser isn’t getting any. You lost, so you aren’t getting any.”

The otter stared, his expression darkening until Thomas thought he’d explore. Instead, he grabbed his rifle and stormed out.

“You realize he’s just going to fuck your friend, right?” Thomas took his pants off.

“Hugh’s a big boy.” Laurence said, grabbing Thomas by the shoulders and sitting him on the counter. “And I don’t just mean in character.” He grabbed the tube of lube and slicked Thomas’s hole.

Thomas gasped at how good just that felt. Not that he wanted it to change, but how could it be that each time he had something in his ass it felt that good? The finger went away and Thomas breathing calmed slightly. Shouldn’t he be getting used to this? Shouldn’t it start feeling ordinar—

The groan, as the armadillo’s cock stretched him, was loud. He moaned as his ass was pounded, his head resting back, his arms supporting his weight. Then the angle changed and Thomas let out a surprised scream as he came. Grinning, Laurence pulled him close and picked up the speed even more.

Thomas held on for dear life as the cock moved in and out, smashing his prostate. Then he screamed in the shoulder as he had another orgasm. Laurence was out of him long enough to bend him over the counter, then back in, hand over Thomas’s still hard, and now quite slick, cock. Thomas yelled for Laurence to fuck him harder, and harder it was. And soon enough, the rat was cumming again. Thomas’s encouragement lost coherence as the armadillo continued to fuck him. He bit his lower lip as the hand stroking his cock tightened, then he was screaming as stars exploded along with his orgasm.

Panting and trying to catch his breath, his cock was released and the hand put on his hip as the armadillo slammed in and his cock pulsed.

Holy fuck, Thomas saw more stars from that, and it felt good.

“I am never going to have enough of this,” Thomas said languidly, draped over the counter and the armadillos’ cock still in him.

“Then, you are definitely a brother,” Laurence replied. “Not that I doubted it. Anyone who takes as much of Chima’s cock as you did, both ways, and comes back for more is Sigma Theta Gamma, even if they aren’t from one of the families.” Laurence’s following silence was as tense as his body felt over Thomas. 

The rat rolled his eyes and moved off the counter, forcing the armadillo to move. “I figured out that much.” He stretched, surprised his legs could support him. He couldn’t believe how fast he was seeing benefits from Madoc’s training. “You guys are all from old money families. Some sort of worldwide club of gay rich guys. Someone would have to be blind not to work out that much.”

Laurence handed Thomas wet wipes. “I wish I could take you to see…” he bit his lips. “Once you graduate, I’ll introduce you to some people who will show you a really good time.”

Thomas chuckled, and Laurence looked at him oddly.

Oh, he was serious. This wasn’t some ploy of his father, getting the frat to push him into deciding his major. They were in for some disappointment. As much of a motivator as Thomas was discovering sex was, he didn’t think even that would get him to find a major, let along excel at it.

Once cleaned and dressed, they left the range, Laurence nodding to the collie who was reading on her phone while Thomas couldn’t look in her direction, ears plastered back. When they reached the counter, Thomas handed the rifle to the antelope.

“How was Felix?” the armadillo asked, scanning the store.

“Competent,” Hugh answered, entering the amount. “I’m not a fan of pissed-off fucks.”

Thomas tried to see how much the rental was, but Laurence kept blocking his view.

“I’ll make it up to you,” Laurence said, grinning.

“I know you will.”

Outside, Thomas was surprised to see Felix there, leaning against his car.

“Well, well, well, look who decided to hang about,” Laurence called.

The otter rolled his eyes. “I’ve only been out here five minutes. I was giving you another five, then heading out.” He turned his back to them and walked around the car. 

Thomas barely hesitated before hurrying to the otter’s car. “We’ll see you at the frat,” he told the confused armadillo, and got in the sports car.

“What are you doing in here?” Felix glared at him.

“Kissing and making up.” Thomas said as he closed the door. He reached over and undid the otter’s pants. He wasn’t surprised that pulling the cock out was all it took to get it hard. He didn’t know what it was about the frat, but everyone there could get hard at the drop of his hat—well, probably a hat too, even him.

Felix smirked as Thomas wrapped his lips around the cock. “Well, I’m glad you can show some respect, at least.” The car pulled smoothly as Thomas took more of the cock.