Built like a college athlete ten years past his prime, the man had short brown hair and a dusting of freckles over his nose, with a thin mouth and high cheekbones. He wore jeans and a sports blazer over a blue button-down shirt, the clothes just loose enough to be flattering. The newcomer scanned the bar, eyes gliding right over Viggo before he moved inside to take a seat at the bar just a few feet from where Viggo was standing.
There was nothing at all suspicious about him, and yet Viggo’s wolf rumbled in warning.
Realizing he was staring, Viggo turned his gaze back to the bartender, but he kept his attention on the man. Taking his drinks, he moved back to the table, taking the seat next to Sebastian instead of across from him, angling his chair so he could keep an eye on the bar.
“Thanks,” Sebastian said, grabbing the beer Viggo handed him and taking a sip. He swallowed, a faint grimace darting over his face before being quickly suppressed.
Viggo tilted his head, staring at him curiously. For a second he forgot all about the man at the bar. “You don’t like it?”
Sebastian’s eyes widened, a look of panic crossing his features. “No, it’s good.” To prove his point, he took another sip.
He almost managed to hide his wince at the flavor.
Viggo laughed. “If you don’t like beer, why did you order it?”
Sebastian blushed, sighing when he realized that he’d completely failed to convince Viggo that he found the drink at all palatable.
“Sorry. I just…” he grimaced. “I didn’t know what to ask for and I panicked.”
“What do you usually have when you go out for drinks?” Viggo wasn’t annoyed. He’d have no trouble finishing off Sebastian’s unwanted beer, so it wouldn’t go to waste, but even if it had, he wouldn’t have been angry.
“Margaritas,” Sebastian said, the words spoken like a confession. Mistaking Viggo’s look for judgment, he rubbed his nose and defended himself. “I know, it’s not very original. I just don’t drink a lot, and when I do go out with my friends or people from work, we always order beer and a pitcher of margaritas.”
“So you want a cocktail?” Viggo clarified, grabbing Sebastian’s beer and sliding it toward himself to join his own.
“I guess?” Sebastian looked sheepish.
“Okay, I’ll be right back.”
Viggo headed up to the bar and ordered Sebastian a margarita, using the trip as an opportunity to get a closer look at the suspicious man.
He was just sitting at the bar, nursing a scotch on the rocks and looking at his phone.
Viggo’s wolf wanted to drag him out back and tear out his throat. Something about him was a threat, and though Viggo didn’t know what, he trusted his wolf’s instincts.
“Here you go,” the bartender said, handing him a tall glass with a salted rim filled to the brim with Sebastian’s margarita. “Enjoy.”
“Thanks,” Viggo said, taking the drink back to Sebastian. He slid it over and watched Sebastian take a sip, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way he seemed to enjoy it.
“Better?” he asked.
Sebastian nodded. “Much.” He looked embarrassed again. “I’m sorry. I’ll pay you back.”
Viggo lifted his brow at the absurd statement. “I invited you here, so absolutely not. Drinks are on me.” He leaned in, putting his hand on Sebastian’s shoulder and feeling him shudder under his touch. “Don’t worry so much, okay? Relax.”
Working his fingers into the meat of Sebastian’s shoulder, Viggo leaned in closer and breathed in his scent. There was something earthy about him, like he’d been working in a garden, along with the unmistakable traces of his and Bjorn’s release.
It would take more than a few showers until he stopped smelling like them, drenched in their come as he’d been, and Viggo had no intention of letting enough days go by without painting his load somewhere on Sebastian’s body for it to ever fade.
Sebastian was his, and he would smell like it.
“All right,” Sebastian mumbled, Viggo’s touch turning his breaths fast and shallow. He lifted his glass and took a long sip, leaving a trace of salt on his lip from the rim of the glass.
Viggo leaned in and licked it off.
“Good boy.” He pulled away, leaving Sebastian open-mouthed and glassy-eyed. He grinned, loving how Sebastian seemed to turn into putty whenever he or Bjorn touched him. It was like he’d spent his whole life waiting for Viggo and Bjorn to come along and take him apart.
Sebastian cleared his throat, taking another big sip of his drink.
