“They’d talk to you.”
Jono’s hand stilled where his fingers were stroking soft circles over Patrick’s hip beneath the covers. “Not sure they would.”
“Maybe the packs aligned with the god pack won’t, but I bet the independents would. You were one of them.”
“Still am outside these walls.”
Patrick moved his head to press a kiss against Jono’s warm skin. “I never understood why you independents wouldn’t just form your own packs with each other.”
“Mixed viral strains. There’s a reason people stick with their own kind. You see it even in mundane society with discrimination and cultural mores. It takes a lot of effort to try to make something like that work. Most werecreatures can’t be arsed to try, not when forming a new pack in established areas means you get sod all in the territory department.”
“You tried.”
“You’re a hard bloke to say no to, Pat.” Jono pressed a kiss to the top of Patrick’s head. “Now go to sleep.”
Patrick closed his eyes, relaxing in slow degrees against Jono. Sleeping on the road was no longer normal for him. He’d gotten used to sleeping with another body in the bed, the sound of someone breathing close by a white noise he’d missed in his hotel room.
Waking up together after being apart had its own appeal, one he’d missed while upstate.
Sunrise in summer came before 0700, and after a night of no dreams or nightmares, Patrick woke to warm lips pressing soft kisses down his spine. Cracking open one eye, Patrick flexed his fingers against the sheets. He’d rolled onto his stomach sometime during the night, arms shoved beneath the pillow. He had a vague sense memory of Jono pressed close throughout the night, but that was overtaken by the present teasing touches.
“You turned off my alarm,” Patrick mumbled. His internal sense of time told him it should’ve gone off five minutes ago.
Jono licked at the dip of his lower spine, the warm drag of Jono’s tongue making Patrick twitch. He’d gone to bed in boxers, but those were missing now. The fact that Jono was able to strip him without Patrick waking up just proved his subconscious had firmly put Jono in the non-threat box.
“You get up too bloody early most days, but it works in my favor sometimes,” Jono said, his breath ghosting over the curve of Patrick’s bare ass. “Figured I could welcome you home now since I didn’t get the chance last night.”
Patrick helpfully spread his legs, hissing at the way his already interested cock moved against the bedsheet. Warm fingers gripped his ass and spread him open. Patrick turned his face into the pillow at the first lick of Jono’s tongue over his hole, the scrape of Jono’s five-o’clock shadow against sensitive skin making him gasp.
This was—hands down—Patrick’s favorite way to wake up these days. He had Jono to thank for teaching him how good sex could be when he wasn’t rushing to get off. Patrick bit his lip as Jono licked at his hole again, hot breath tickling his skin. Heat zinged up his spine at the wet touch, and he moaned when the tip of Jono’s tongue pushed inside him.
He curled his hands into fists beneath the pillow as he pushed back against Jono’s mouth, heat suffusing his face. Getting eaten out was intimate in a way he’d rarely experienced before Jono came into his life. Patrick had to admit he’d been missing out.
“Gods,” he moaned, hips jerking as Jono sucked at the rim of his hole. “I want you in me.”
Jono flicked his tongue over his hole before sliding a slick finger inside him, causing Patrick to inhale sharply.
“Like this?” Jono teased.
Patrick would’ve answered, except Jono curled his finger at just the right angle to rub against his prostate and Patrick couldn’t remember how to speak for a couple of seconds.
Jono chuckled, the sound muffled against Patrick’s ass. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Patrick sucked in air and turned his face to the side again, blinking open his eyes. “I have to work today.”
“So you do.” Another hot, wet kiss to his hole made Patrick’s mouth part on a near-silent gasp. “Bloody shame I can’t spend all day working you over.”
Patrick bit his lip at that drawled confession, wishing he could spend the day in bed letting Jono come in him and on him, sinking into a scent his too-human nose couldn’t parse. Other werecreatures could, and Patrick had never once been embarrassed at the way Jono laid claim to him.
Patrick slid a hand free from beneath the pillow to reach behind him for Jono. He blindly tangled his fingers in wavy black hair, getting a good grip and tugging. “I spent a week without you. Don’t make me wait.”
Jono bit lightly at Patrick’s upturned ass before pushing a second finger inside him. The hot burn of the stretch, sudden and nerve-piercing, had Patrick moaning and tightening his hold on Jono’s hair.
“Say please.”
Patrick opened his mouth, but the word didn’t immediately come to his lips. It took a few seconds for him to push back against a lifetime of stubbornness where begging was concerned. Jono was proving to be an exception to all his rules these days.
“Please,” Patrick finally forced out, shuddering on the exhale.
