“Can you get drunk?” he asked, comfortable enough with Tex after spending the day with him to just blurt out the question.
“If there’s monkshood mixed in with the alcohol, sure.”
“Is that the same as wolfsbane?”
Peter remembered there being some issue with wolfsbane a few years ago—something about a human getting sick after using a werewolf’s e-cigarette.
“Yes. Though we usually only call it that when we smoke it.” Tex’s face went serious, his hand reaching out and clasping around the back of Peter’s neck. “We’ve got some monkshood vodka and beer back at the house, so don’t drink anything if you’re not familiar with the brand, okay?”
“I won’t,” Peter promised. He wasn’t really a big drinker anyway, and he’d never smoked.
Tex’s hand on the back of his neck lingered, heavy and firm, making heat shoot down Peter’s spine and into his cock, and when he pulled away, Peter missed it.
The rest of the ride home was spent in silence, but not an uncomfortable one.
When they got back to the house, Peter collected the bags from the trunk while Tex went inside to change into his uniform and get ready for work. Peter brought the bags into the bedroom, stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of Tex buttoning up his navy blue uniform shirt. The starchy cotton fit snug against Tex’s muscular body, showing off his wide shoulders and trim waist, his biceps pressing against the sleeves of the shirt every time he moved his arms.
It was like porn, butbetter.
Peter stared as Tex grabbed a pair of snug breeches from the bed, pulling them up over his thighs and muscular ass. Tex had nice legs—his thighs meaty and powerful, his calves rounded with muscle—and seeing them stuffed into the tight breeches only made Peter appreciate them more.
“You’re drooling,” Tex commented, grabbing his heavy belt and fastening it around his waist with a cocky smirk.
Peter hastily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, looking away and blushing.
“Don’t look away,” Tex said, grabbing his leather jacket off the bed and shrugging it on. “I like it when you look at me like that.”
Peter lifted his gaze, allowing himself a brief glance before staring back at the floor. Tex’s uniform jacket was just as well fitted as the shirt, and Peter wondered if Tex had sacrificed mobility for style in choosing something that hugged his upper body so tight.
“Come on, I still need to put on my boots, and I’m guessing you want to see the full picture. Don’t you, Peter?”
Peter nodded, following Tex into the hall and toward the front door. He watched as Tex reached into the closet and tugged on his boots, and even those seemed fitted to account for the bulge of Tex’s muscular calves.
Reaching up on the shelf, ignoring Peter completely, Tex put on a pair of sunglasses and some tight leather gloves, and only when he’d finished smoothing the gloves over his fingers did he turn and face Peter.
Peter was pretty sure he was drooling again. Tex looked like a stud, emanating a cocky authority that set Peter’s insides on fire.
None of the cops he’d dealt with during his arrest and trial had looked anything like this. Tex was like something out of an eighties gay porno. Peter could barely handle looking at him; he was so hot.
Glancing at Tex’s face, Peter was surprised to see that the cocky smile from earlier had slipped away, replaced with a stern expression. Peter took a stumbling step back he was so startled, but Tex followed, his booted foot stomping forward and bringing him right into Peter’s space.
He was standing so close that Peter could smell the leather of his jacket and feel the heat of his body against his face.
“Hands up against the wall and spread your feet,” Tex growled, making Peter jump.
“What?” he asked, crying out when Tex grabbed his arm and roughly spun him around and slammed him up against the wall. Tex leaned against him, trapping him against the wall, grabbing his hands with a growl and lifting them up on either side of his head while kicking his feet apart.
Tex’s gloved hands were tight around Peter’s wrists, his muscular thigh pressed between Peter’s legs, chest pressed up against his back and pinning him against the wall with crushing force.
“You like this?” Tex asked, lifting his thigh up and grinding it between Peter’s legs, practically lifting him off the ground. “You like it when I play rough?”
Peter’s eyes were closed, the feeling of being surrounded and dominated making electric shocks pulse through his body and into his groin. It was the exact same feeling he’d had when Tex had stood over him, foot on his throat, and come all over him.
Being dominated—truly overpowered and just used—was a brand new thing for Peter, and he liked it.
“Yes,” Peter grunted, his cock doing its best to bust out of his pants. He was so hard that it hurt.
“Good boy,” Tex growled, stepping back and wrenching Peter’s arms behind his back. Before he knew what was happening, there was the familiar feeling of handcuffs closing around his wrist. The cool metal was like a bucket of cold water.
