“Does it hurt?”
“What?” Peter scrunched up his nose in confusion. Tex was holding him against his chest, fully supporting his weight and letting his feet dangle.
“The bruises,” Carver said, stroking down Peter’s hip with the back of his hand.
“Maybe a little,” Peter said, leaning his head back against Tex’s chest. “Nice, too, though.”
Carver was glad to hear it.
They finished drying Peter off and dressed him in one of their bathrobes, standing him on unsteady feet and grinning at how cute he looked. The white robe was huge on his small frame, pooling at his legs, the sleeves extending far past his hands. Carver got a kick out of seeing just how dwarfed Peter looked in something that fit him perfectly.
While Carver and Tex dressed him, Peter was quiet and mellow, a faraway look in his eyes as he leaned against whichever of Carver or Tex was closest.
When he pressed his face into Tex’s chest and leaned up to suck his nipple, Tex let out a small hiss of pleasure and grinned.
“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” he said, soft and fond, threading his fingers through Peter’s wet hair and kissing the top of his head.
Peter, rather than respond verbally, let out a little hum of contentment, nuzzling his face into the cleft of Tex’s chest and sighing happily.
Both Carver and Tex were still naked, though they’d both hurriedly dried themselves off in between taking care of Peter. Even though they’d just come—and Carver twice—they were both hard at the sight of their submissive little omega.
With how he was acting, Carver got the sense that he could do anything and Peter would agree. It was a heady feeling.
Carver and Tex stood there, watching as Peter nuzzled against Tex’s chest like a kid rubbing his face into their favorite teddy bear.
“He’s probably hungry,” Carver said after a while, patting the back of Peter’s head. “We should get him something to eat.”
“I’m right here, you know,” Peter mumbled, making Carver chuckle.
“I know, I’m sorry. Do you want some breakfast?”
“Yes,” Peter said, turning his face and looking at Carver with dark eyes. “Can I have waffles?”
“Are pancakes okay?” Carver asked. They didn’t have a waffle maker, a fact he’d never thought about much less regretted until this very moment.
“Yes,” Peter said, after a long pause like he had to think about it. “With bananas.”
“Demanding little thing, aren’t you?” Tex teased. Peter blushed, turning his face and hiding it in the cleft between Tex’s pecs.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“You get to be demanding after what we just put you through,” Tex said, grinning down at him. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you if you get too bratty.”
Peter hesitated, pulling back and looking up at Tex with wide eyes. “What happens then?”
“If you’re bratty?”
Peter nodded.
“Well, if you keep on being a brat after I tell you to stop, I’d ask Carver to spank you.” Tex looked over at Carver, wagging his eyebrows like a cartoon villain. “He’s got quite the arm.”
Peter got a look on his face like he was planning how he could be a brat and earn himself a spanking. His forehead scrunched up and his tongue poked at the corner of his mouth, his thoughts plain to read on his face, and Carver had no doubt that if he hadn’t been knot-drunk that he would have managed to be far more subtle in his scheming.
“If you want a spanking, all you have to do is ask,” Carver said, his voice an unintentionally deep rumble. He reached out and petted Peter’s hair with a heavy hand. “Any time.”
Peter shuddered, letting out a whimper when Carver brought his hand down and cupped the back of his neck in a firm grip.
Tex’s stomach interrupted the moment by letting out a loud rumble, making Peter startle, then laugh.
