“Hope so,” Tex said, flipping the pancakes on the griddle one by one. “But we have a spare you can use if he didn’t. It should be fine.”
Tex hoped Carver had found something that would fit Peter. The spare helmet they had in the garage was made to fit the thick skull of an alpha werewolf. Even with the straps tightened all the way, it would probably be too big.
Carver had been smart to think ahead. Otherwise, their plans for the day—impromptu though they were—might have been ruined.
A minute later, when Tex was just getting ready to take the second batch of pancakes off the griddle, Carver stomped into the room with an intense look of excitement.
He’d obviously bought more than a helmet.
“Hey, you two,” he said, walking up behind Peter and pressing in close behind him. He reached down and gave Peter a hug, commandeering his fork and stealing the piece of pancake he’d been about to put into his mouth. He grinned at Tex, proclaiming, “That’s good!”
“Thank you,” Tex said, transferring the second batch of pancakes onto a plate and holding them out for Carver to collect. His husband did, taking the plate and catching Tex’s lips in an eager kiss.
“What did you get?” Tex asked when they pulled apart.
“I’ll show you later,” Carver said, stealing another kiss before walking around the kitchen island and sitting down on the barstool next to Peter. He reached up and squeezed Peter’s neck, taking the bottle of syrup and drizzling the golden liquid all over his pancakes. He put the bottle down and looked at Peter. “I bet you were hungry, huh?”
“Starving,” Peter agreed, still devouring his pancakes like they were going to disappear out from under him.
Tex started cooking the last batch of pancakes, his stomach growling in protest that it still hadn’t been fed. Tex grabbed a banana to quiet it, eating it while he waited to flip the pancakes.
He looked at Peter and Carver, watching them fork down his food as he wondered what Carver had gotten.
By the time he’d flipped and finished cooking his pancakes, Peter and Carver were almost done eating. Plating his food, Tex sat down on Peter’s other side, drizzling syrup on his pancakes before digging in.
“This was really good,” Peter said, licking the syrup off his fork. His plate was empty and he looked sated and happy, making Tex’s inner wolf feel all kinds of accomplished.
“Thanks,” Tex said, grinning. Both Carver and Peter were done eating, but Tex didn’t let that rush him. He was going to enjoy his pancakes; thank you very much. “I’m glad you liked it.”
Carver climbed off his barstool, taking his and Peter’s plates and putting them in the dishwasher.
“You couldn’t wait until I was done?” Tex asked, annoyed.
“I want to get Peter kitted out in his new gear,” Carver said, coming around and picking Peter up under his arms and lifting him off the chair. Peter let out a squawk of surprise, but he didn’t protest the manhandling. “Wait here, okay?”
Rolling his eyes, Tex nevertheless agreed. “Sure. I’ll be here. Eating my breakfast. Alone.”
“Great,” Carver said, ignoring his sarcasm. “Let’s go, Peter.”
Tex watched as Carver carried Peter out of the kitchen, disappearing out of sight into the hallway. He wasn’t too annoyed at Carver’s eagerness—it was a rare thing for Carver to be so excited—and he was curious about what Carver had gotten that had him so wired up.
Finishing his food, Tex put his plate away in the dishwasher and then sat back down to wait for Peter and Carver.
He didn’t have to wait long.
“All right, here we come!” Carver announced, walking into the room with a massive grin on his face.
It took Tex a second to work out what he was seeing. Carver was dressed in his riding gear—a one-piece leather suit in black leather with red trim, with matching boots and gloves—and on his back, like a backpack, hung Peter.
Tex couldn’t help the snicker that escaped his lips.
Peter was wearing a leather suit of his own, though it was nothing like Carver’s. The sleeves and legs extended past Peter’s hands and feet, and they were sewed shut like the sleeves of a straitjacket, the leather tapering off and ending in long straps. Those straps were attached to the front of a harness Carver wore over his chest, forcing Peter’s legs to hug Carver’s waist and his arms to wrap around the alpha’s massive chest.
Carver did a little spin, showing off the way Peter was plastered to his back. On closer inspection, Tex realized that the harness over Carver’s chest was actually attached to the front of Peter’s suit and that it was the harness that supported Peter’s weight.
“What the fuck, Carver?” Tex asked, pushing his hand into the space between Peter’s front and Carver’s back. He could barely get his hand in there.
“Isn’t it cool? This way, we don’t have to worry about him falling off when he’s on the back of the bike.”
