“You can bite,” Wolfe told him fondly, thumbing at the head of Eric’s cock.
Fangs immediately sliced into Wolfe’s neck, the greedy sounds of Eric’s gulping layering over the messy sound of Wolfe jerking him off. Wolfe’s beast preened at their mate drinking from them. He’d be full of their cumandtheir blood. As he should be always.
It wasn’t long before Eric groaned like a dying man, his release coating Wolfe’s fist.
“There you are,” Wolfe murmured, stroking Eric’s back with his free hand.
Eric slumped against Wolfe’s shoulder, turning his head, his mouth slack. Wolfe presented his hand, humming his pleasure when Eric licked his own cum up obediently.
Perfect, perfect, perfect.
“Feel better?” Wolfe asked after a moment, already knowing the answer.
Eric let out a heavy sigh, but it was more cathartic than desponding. “Yeah. Lots better.”
Wolfe pressed a kiss to his head. “Good. No conversations with that woman for at least a month.”
“Make it two.”
Wolfe grinned. He loved when his mate was vindictive.
He continued petting Eric, knowing he needed as much touch as possible. “Do you wish to look at research postings tomorrow?”
“Not yet,” Eric murmured. “I’m not really ready. I just got in my head a bit.”
It was a long time later when Wolfe spoke again. “Johann foisted a cinnamon roll recipe on me. Should we try it?”
Eric leaned back to look at him, his brows raised in surprise. “Really? You’d bake with me?”
“I don’t see why not,” Wolfe said lightly.
It should have been distasteful, really, to be so at one person’s mercy. But it wasn’t. How could it be? This was the other half of Wolfe’s soul. His perfect match.
What wouldn’t he do when it came to his mate? He’d yet to find the limit.
Wolfe had doubts he ever would.
“Come, beloved.” He tugged Eric off the couch, righting Eric’s track pants before adjusting his own robe. “Let’s fill you up with sugar. It will go well with my cum.”
“You’re unhinged,” Eric said, not for the first time. It might have been offensive, if not for the love pulsing through their bond.
Perfect.
Eric
Eric hummed happily, digging into his third cinnamon roll of the night.
They were a little burned at the bottom—Wolfe had been adorably horrified at the error—but they were still delicious.
Plus, Wolfe’s eye twitched whenever Eric licked the frosting a certain way, so that was fun.
“Haven’t you had enough of my mouth?” Eric teased.
Wolfe traced Eric’s lower lip with his thumb, removing a drop of frosting. He brought it to his own mouth. “As if I could ever get enough of that.”
Eric grinned at him. He was feeling much…looser, after their time in the den. Not so tightly wound, not so much in his own head.
He never should have let his mom get in his head in the first place, but old habits died hard, didn’t they? And while normally Eric liked hearing Gabe’s stories from the hospital, tonight it had just served as a reminder that Eric had chosen to leave behind the one thing he was good at. The one thing that had made his parents anywhere close to proud of him. He’d had his reasons, but still.
