“I have selected a variety of very old, very prestigious wines,” he began, his free hand sliding up and down Eric’s spine now. “That will keep Roman happy. And while my initial instinct was to pay for some appropriately upscale catering, I’ve allowed that Roman would prefer to cook, and so he shall. Danny is already grateful that you have provided your home when he was unable. That’s one couple accounted for.”
“Wolfe…” Eric tried to raise his head, but Wolfe pressed him back down against his chest with a firm hand.
“I have demanded formal attire for the evening, which will please Soren, as he gets to dress himself and his mate in their sartorial best. I have allowed for your precious man cave to be used by Gabe to watch his American sports, in small amounts. That’s another couple settled. I have asked Johann to bring the pies, so he will be able to experiment with baking to his heart’s content. Alexei will be pleased that Johann is pleased, obviously. Also, I have selected some extremely malty brown beer for Alexei’s consumption. His favorite. You all seem to forget he has his own preferences, muted though they may be by his overblown affection for his mate.”
“Oh my God.” Now Eric did press up onto an elbow, ignoring Wolfe’s efforts to tuck him back against him. He needed to lookhim in the face. He let out a shocked laugh. “You…you know them all so well.”
Wolfe’s lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk. “Just because I don’t care doesn’t mean I’m not capable of paying attention.”
Eric let out a yelp as Wolfe moved quick as a snake, flipping him onto his back. He held Eric there by his shoulders, his eyes gleaming red in the dim light.
Oh God, was Wolfe hard again?
Of course he was.
“And now, my dear Eric,” Wolfe crooned, sliding his cock into Eric’s already well-used hole with ease, “you will return to me.” He pressed his thumb against Eric’s lower lip. “Your party is taken care of.Youare taken care of.” He leaned down, replacing his thumb with his teeth, nipping at Eric’s mouth. “But I still demand my due.”
Well, all right, then.
Eric wrapped his legs around Wolfe’s hips, arching his back to urge him into motion.
He let his mind go blissfully blank, taking everything Wolfe had to give him. There was only this now. Them, together.
No one else.
Wolfe
Wolfe lay next to a slumbering Eric.
His mate was on his stomach, his head pillowed on his folded arms, which allowed Wolfe to admire his puffy, abused hole. It was already healing back to its original state, of course. When it did, perhaps Wolfe would finally close his eyes.
He believed he could do it now. His mate had been tended to, their bond revitalized by their physical connection.
It was a lesson Wolfe was learning, albeit reluctantly. That Eric simply had to…fret sometimes. He’d been right when he’d once told Wolfe he couldn’t be happy every hour of every day, much to Wolfe’s dismay.
It wasn’t natural to be continuously content, and even Wolfe had to occasionally concede to human nature.
And frankly, Wolfe would rather have his pet fretting over pleasing their fellow den members, rather than over something that could really hurt him, like attempting to please his terrible blood family.
So Wolfe would continue to allow this hosting of the ridiculous Thanksgiving dinner, and the added stress it was briefly bringing to their lives.
And in turn, his mate would be grateful, which Wolfe would leverage into more time buried inside Eric, or wrapped around him, or both.
Perhaps he would convince Eric to allow Danny to watch over their fostered mutt for a weekend so Wolfe could take him away somewhere. Somewhere where there were no other den members. Or animals. Or anything else to distract his mate. Where the only things to look forward to were high-end room service and Wolfe’s touch, his care.
Wolfe grinned into the darkness. If Eric could hear his thoughts, he’d call Wolfe codependent and desperate and psychotic.
But he’d say it all with a fond smile, and he’d kiss Wolfe for it afterward.
Wolfe shut his eyes with a pleased sigh, throwing an arm and a leg over his sleeping mate, dragging Eric’s limp form against his own.
Eric would allow Wolfe’s own personal brand of fretting. Because he was perfect. Because he was Wolfe’s.
TENDING TO ERIC
Wolfe sipped his wine on Danny and Roman’s poor excuse for a sofa, determinedlynotlistening to Johann blather on next to him about a baking recipe Wolfe had neither asked for nor had any interest in.
Wolfe would perhaps be more amenable if Johann were to discuss, for example, his extensive financial portfolios, but apparently, that was Alexei’s purview. Wolfe slightly doubted their local mobster had the brain cells necessary for the task, but that was Johann’s burden to bear. He could do with his half of the den inheritance whatever he wished.
