Carter stared at the human next to him and wondered what the fuck he was doing. John was sleeping, his head lolled back against the seat cushion, looking thoroughly fucked and utterly debauched.
“Hey, wake up,” Carter said, nudging John gently. John opened his eyes and lifted his head, looking around with a confused expression on his face until his eyes landed on Carter. Then he smiled and Carter’s heart clenched.
“I fell asleep,” John said, stating the obvious.
“I wore you out,” Carter replied, cocky pride lacing his voice.
“Are we the only ones here?” John asked, looking around. They were in one of the private alcoves in the lounge area, the lights turned down low, facing away from the bar to give the illusion of privacy.
“Almost,” Carter said. “It’s late.”
He wasn’t sure how late, but it had to be past three am. He brought his hand down on John’s neck, giving it a squeeze. John was still in his uniform, though he’d taken off his socks and boots, as well as his jacket, leaving him adorably bare footed. His sleeves were rolled up to expose muscular forearms.
Carter, on the other hand, still had on his leather pants and boots, though he’d borrowed a complimentary t-shirt from the club before heading down to the lounge.
“I haven’t come that many times since I was a teenager,” John said, leaning into Carter’s hand. “Is the stamina a werewolf thing or are you just special.”
Carter shrugged. Since he’d never had sex with another werewolf, he wasn’t really sure how he stacked up.
“Have you always been such a power bottom?” he asked instead of answering.
John laughed, his head turning so that he could look up at Carter. There was a twinkle in his eye and Carter’s stomach clenched with butterflies.
“God no. I mean, I like getting fucked, but I’ve never taken it like that.”
“Well, you’re a natural,” Carter said, releasing his grip on John’s neck and instead sliding his arm behind the younger man’s head. He shifted over so that John was tucked under his arm.
He wondered if he’d ever feel this way with Elijah. Even with a spell to engineer an attraction toward the younger man, would he like spending time with him?
The thought left Carter feeling oddly guilty. He leaned down and buried his face in John’s hair, ignoring the feeling and moving his thoughts along to other things.
“So are you driving back to Forest Hill tonight?” John asked after a while, yawning and stretching his legs out on front of him. His toes wiggled, and Carter found himself staring at them. Then John’s question registered and he froze.
“How did you know I live in Forest Hill?” he asked.
“Where else would you be from?” John asked, yawning again and snuggling into Carter’s side.
Carter breathed out. He didn’t know why he’d reacted with such a jolt of adrenaline. It wasn’t like humans were unaware of pack territories, and any human who paid attention would know that a werewolf in Builder Falls most likely had to come from Forest Hill.
“So you haven’t been stalking me?” Carter asked, only half joking.
John, rather than be offended, laughed. “No. I haven’t even looked you up on the internet.”
Carter frowned. He hadn’t wanted John to be a stalker, but disinterest wasn’t exactly what he’d been after, either.
In his experience, most of the humans he’d fucked in the past had been fascinated by the fact that he was a werewolf. There had been all kinds of questions, which now that he thought about it had been totally lacking from John—except for the one about his stamina.
“Really? You weren’t curious about the werewolf thing?” he asked.
John shrugged. “I worked with a werewolf for a while and I think I got most of my rude questions out of my system then. A guy named Luke Wolfman—do you know him?”
Carter blinked, caught off guard. He’d known, obviously, that Luke had gone to work for the BFPD, but he hadn’t considered the fact that John might know him because of it.
“I do. He’s married to a witch.”
John nodded. “Owen, yeah. He’s a nice guy.”
John knew Owen? This put him way to close to the pack for comfort.
