Climbing out of the truck, Tex grabbed the bags of take-out and made his way through the door connecting the garage to the kitchen, not bothering to remove his sneakers before walking into the house. He put the food on the counter and turned toward the door.
“We’re home!” he called out, seeing Peter sitting in front of the TV. At the sound of his voice, Peter turned around and looked at him.
“Hi,” he called, standing up and walking toward the kitchen. “How was the gym?”
Tex grinned, pleased by the fact that Peter was coming to greet him. He’d been a little worried that some time alone would make Peter panic, but if anything, he looked calmer than when they’d left him.
Perfect.
“It was great. Everything okay here?” Tex walked over to the fridge, brushing past Peter on the way and tussling his hair.
Peter leaned into his touch and Tex’s cock throbbed. Better and better.
“Everything’s fine. I sort of went exploring,” Peter said, looking a little awkward. Tex wondered if he’d looked in the chest in the closet, hoping that he had. Both he and Carver enjoyed anal play, though neither of them actually liked getting fucked. Both of their wolves were too dominant to allow it.
“You went snooping?” Tex asked, grinning as he reached for a Gatorade in the fridge and started chugging it. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Find anything interesting?”
“A police uniform,” Peter said, trying to sound casual and failing miserably. Tex prayed to Jesus that it was because he had a uniform fetish and not because he had a hang-up about cops.
“That’s mine,” Tex said, crossing his arms and leaning back. “I’m a police officer.”
Peter’s cheeks blushed red, and Tex let out a relieved breath. This was good.
“You like that?” Tex said, his voice low and cocky. Peter nodded. “You want me to maybe play with you a little sometime? Put you in cuffs, slam you up against the wall and give you a pat-down?”
Peter choked on his own spit, his face managing to get even redder.
“Maybe?” Peter’s voice was hoarse.
“Yeah?” Tex moved in to Peter’s space, using his body to press the younger man up against the counter. Peter brought his hands up, his breath hitching as they landed on Tex’s meaty pecs. “You like the idea of me playing bad cop?”
“I guess,” Peter said, his breaths coming in hot little pants.
“Would you get down on your knees for me and lick my boots?” Tex asked, pushing his thigh between Peter’s legs and grinding the muscular limb into Peter’s bulge. Peter was hard as a rock.
“I…Yes,” Peter whimpered.
Tex stepped back, his whole body electrified, his cock straining the tight fabric of his compression shorts.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, licking his lips. “But right now, what I really want is a little foot rub before dinner. Think you can handle that?”
Before Peter could answer, Carver walked into the room, stopping in his tracks when he saw Tex and Peter.
“Everything okay here?” he asked. Tex would have found his suspicion offensive if it weren’t so well-founded.
“Everything is great. Peter here was just going to give me a little foot rub before we eat, weren’t you, Peter?”
Peter nodded.
“Seriously?” Carver groaned, turning to Peter with a determined look on his face. “You don’t have to rub his feet. I sometimes do it for his birthday, but if it’s not your thing, then just tell him to back off.”
“He’s not going to rub my feet because he has a foot fetish,” Tex said, grabbing Peter and pulling him under his arm. He curled his bicep until Peter was basically in a headlock. “He’s going to rub my feet because he likes doing what he’s told. Right, Peter?”
“I don’t mind giving you a foot rub,” Peter said, making Tex roll his eyes. The boy knew what he was talking about.
“And why don’t you mind?” Tex asked, tightening his arm and forcing Peter’s face into his muscular chest. “Come on, be a good boy and explain to Carver why rubbing my feet is going to make your hole wet.”
Peter was quiet for a few seconds, and Tex squeezed him a little harder to hurry things along.
