Peter blinked, obviously startled. “This Saturday?”
Carver nodded.
“So you want to put me in a bondage isolation hood, tie me up, knot my mouth and play with my hole and my nipples in front of a bunch of conservative alphas that all like to get together and dominate their omegas,thisSaturday. As in four days from now.”
“If you don’t want to do it, we’ll figure out a way to get Carver’s mom off our backs,” Tex said.
Peter swallowed, taking a deep breath like he was steeling himself. “No, it’s fine. It’s not like you’re going to share me, right?” He looked to Carver for confirmation.
“That’s right,” Carver said, the thought of anyone trying to touch his omega made his teeth itch for blood. “I’m the only one who would touch you.”
“All right,” Peter said, picking up his spoon again and dipping it into his Cheerios. “I’m in. I trust you.”
Carver’s chest swelled with pride and satisfaction, Peter’s words making him feel ten feet tall.
Peter shrugged. “Who knows, it might even be fun.”
Carver hoped so.
* * *
The next few days,Carver was relieved to see that Peter didn’t seem too worried about their impending audition.
“It’s kind of hot, you know?” Peter admitted when Carver brought it up that evening.
“It is?” Carver asked, stroking his hands down the front of Peter’s chest. They were in bed, Carver sitting with his back against the headboard, Peter impaled on his knot on his lap.
Tex was working an evening shift, so Carver had the omega all to himself.
“I don’t know,” Peter said, like putting his feelings into words was difficult. “I just think about everyone watching me—watching us—and seeing that I belong to you, and it makes me feel all hot and funny.”
Carver knew exactly what Peter was talking about. There was something viscerally pleasing about demonstrating his claim on his omega. It made sense that Peter’s instincts would be oriented in a similar direction.
“That’s good,” Carver said, flicking Peter’s nipple and making him hiss. Carver had pinched and pulled them raw earlier, making him cry and whimper and beg, and now even the gentlest touch was torture. “I’m glad you’re not scared.”
“It’s weird that it’s your mom asking us to do it, though,” Peter said, making Carver laugh.
He was used to his mother having absolutely no boundaries. It wasn’t even that they were werewolves. Carver didn’t know any other pack alphas who would ask for something like what his mother wanted.
“I know, but that’s my mother.”
“Will I meet her?” Peter asked, batting Carver’s fingers away from his nipples and clenching down hard on his knot.
Carver grunted at the sudden pressure, his lower gut clenching as he pumped another load of come into Peter’s guts.
“Eventually.” Carver rolled his hips up, making Peter flail his arms and laugh. Carver pulled him close and licked over his neck, scraping his teeth over the scar of the claiming bite. “But I don’t want to talk about my mother now. My knot’s about to go down, do you want me to give you a blow job before we shower?”
Peter moaned, squeezing down on Carver’s shrinking knot like he wanted to keep it in longer. “No, I want you to sit on my face while I jerk off.”
Carver’s fists clenched, his balls pulling tight at the mental image Peter’s words conjured. It hadn’t occurred to Carver to ask Peter to eat him out—there were so many other things to do—and he hadn’t thought that Peter would be willing.
In Carver’s mind, spit, piss and eating ass were all in the same category of filthy. Apparently, Peter had other ideas.
“I can do that,” Carver growled, pushing Peter forward and yanking his still slightly swollen knot out of his hole. Peter let out a yelp of protest, but Carver ignored him, rolling him over onto his back and moving up to kneel over his head. He spread his knees wide on the mattress, lowering himself down and taking a seat on Peter’s upturned face.
Wet and timid, Peter’s tongue pushed up between his sweaty cheeks, not reaching his hole, and Carver let out a growl.
“Get in there!” he demanded, reaching down and twisting Peter’s abused nipple with a harsh yank.
