Stepping away from the bed, Viggo walked out of the room, turning off the lights before stepping into the hall and closing the door behind him. He made his way down to the first floor, checking his watch and realizing that he should have taken the lasagna out of the oven about five minutes ago.
Seeing no point in rushing, Viggo headed to the kitchen and pulled the pan of lasagna out of the oven. The top layer of cheese was a little darker than he preferred it, but the dish was by no means ruined. He set it on the stovetop to cool and then leaned back against the counter and wondered what he should do now.
Going back upstairs and waking Sebastian was incredibly tempting.
Sebastian hadn’t eaten anything at all after Viggo took him home from Life Mate, and if he didn’t wake him up to eat, he might very well wake up in the middle of the night out of sheer hunger.
Except… Viggo grinned and rubbed his chin. Sebastianhadeaten something after he took him home. Viggo’s balls tingled at the memory of how he’d flooded Sebastian’s mouth and belly with come, his cock plugging Sebastian’s mouth and forcing him to take the whole load.
As a werewolf, Viggo’s loads were a lot bigger than those of a human, and it might very well have been enough to take the edge off Sebastian’s hunger.
Viggo let his mind linger on the enticing mental image of Sebastian stuck on the end of his cock – reliving the way his throat had worked overtime to swallow every thick rope of come – and he wondered just how much of the boy’s nutritional needs his cock would be able to provide if he actually made an effort.
Groping the bulge in his jeans, Viggo chuckled at the perverse fantasy. Squeezing his shaft, he wondered how much of the desire to feed Sebastian his come was his own human kink and how much of it was his wolf’s want to provide everything Sebastian needed.
Knowing both himself and his wolf, Viggo knew it was probably a pretty even mix.
Viggo was jerked out of his erotic musings by the sound of the front door swinging open on the other end of the house. Bjorn was home. Pushing away from the counter, Viggo jogged down the hall, making his way to the front door so that he could greet his mate.
“Bjorn?” he called out, passing the entrance to the living room before turning the corner and catching sight of his husband. “There you are.”
Bjorn was standing right inside the door, his nose in the air, nostrils flaring as he breathed in Sebastian’s scent.
Viggo paused a few feet away, giving him a minute to process the scent, and took a moment to enjoy the view.
Bjorn looked good. He was shirtless, his wide shoulders and bulging pecs glistening with sweat, and the short beard that had grown in since Viggo last wrestled him into the bathroom and forced him to shave actually looked pretty good.
He was also, for reasons Viggo didn’t understand, wearing his leather motorcycle riding pants. The thick leather hugged his trim waist and meaty thighs, coming up past his belly button, molding to his body like a second skin.
Somewhat ruining the look, Bjorn had paired the motorcycle pants with his rattiest running sneakers.
Viggo had been on his case about throwing them away for years, but Bjorn refused. He claimed that they held sentimental value, and he refused to budge any time Viggo asked him to stop being stubborn and throw them away.
Lowering his nose, Bjorn kicked off his sneakers and stepped right into Viggo’s personal space. He licked his lips, a frenzied excitement making his eyes glow, and leaned down to sniff down the length of Viggo’s throat.
A moan of pleasure rumbled in Bjorn’s chest, and Viggo grinned. He didn’t blame Bjorn for being excited. The combination of Sebastian’s sweet scent and his own musk was delightful.
Bjorn dropped to his knees, pushing his face into Viggo’s stomach and dragging his nose down the length of his t-shirt, taking deep, greedy breaths, his hands coming up to hold Viggo’s ass as he pushed his face into Viggo’s bulge.
Viggo’s cock went from zero to sixty in less than a second, pushing down the length of his thigh as it hardened, his balls throbbing. It had been so long since Bjorn had shown any interest in that area of his body, and though having his mouth down there now was making him hard, Viggo couldn’t enjoy it.
Bjorn wasn’t actually interested in him, and that was just depressing.
“Come on, don’t be such a caveman,” Viggo commanded, grabbing Bjorn by his hair and pulling him up.
Bjorn let out a disgruntled huff, but he rose and took a step back. His expression was focused, similar to the look he got when they hunted together, and there was a sizable bulge in the front of his leather pants.
“Now?”
The word was halfway between a demand and a plea. Viggo debated forcing him to elaborate, but he knew exactly what Bjorn wanted.
Sebastian.
“He’s upstairs,” Viggo said, confirming what Bjorn had probably already deduced using his nose. When Bjorn started walking, marching with clear intent, Viggo grabbed him by the arm and stopped him. “But there are rules, Bjorn. You follow them or I take him away.”
Bjorn’s heavy brow dipped down, but he nodded his understanding.
“What.”
