Even though Jack was large, and rough, and powerful, and he liked the same in a partner.
Arden had knownthatfor years, since the day he’d overheard Jack and Lassit talking, and Jack had…well, he’d said what he thought about omegas in general, and so logically also about Arden.
Jack loved him anyway, Arden reminded himself firmly. It didn’t matter that he didn’t love him the way he loved Beckett.
Itcounted.
How had he ever got himself into this pickle, he thought with a surge of desperation, staring at Jack’s familiar face even as he lay naked in Jack’s bed, under Jack’s lover. Then Arden remembered his father’s funeral, and Lassit’s face, and what Lassit had been going to do with him.
While he may be so uncomfortable at this very moment, socially speaking, that he wanted to cry, this wasn’t a pickle.
Being under Lassit’s control? That was a pickle.
Besides, his thoughts were racing and his heart hurt, but his body was having awonderfultime.
Waves of satisfaction pulsed through him, and set him moving. Not much. Just a little. He was, he realised, doing his best to rub himself against the alpha on top of him. He was clenching around him with small, teasing, butterfly pulses that coyly demanded attention.
Arden’s body was delighted when it got the attention it wanted and Beckett began to move with him, slow and easy, sighing over the back of his neck and making him shiver.
His body was delighted. The rest of him was mortified.
He met Jack’s eyes for a split second, then made an awful, mouselike little noise and buried his face in the pillow.
“Can I touch him?” Jack said quietly.
“Yes, of course,” Arden mumbled, thinking that Jack wanted to touch Beckett, and puzzled that he’d ask.
At the same time, Beckett said, “Yes. No. Sorry. No. Not…not yet. You can touch me, though. If you want.”
Confused, Arden lifted his head.
Jack was gazing over at Beckett with a challenging look on his face that Arden hadn’t seen before. Sexual challenge, Arden thought.
Probably why he hadn’t seen it.
“Are you going to growl at me again?” Jack asked.
Beckett did, then gave a short laugh.
Jack’s face lit up and he stroked a hand lingeringly down Beckett’s side.
Arden guessed that’s what he did, anyway. It was hard to see at this angle.
Beckett’s growl was more of a purr this time, and the muscles pressing Arden down into the mattress tightened and released in a lovely ripple of sensation against Arden’s back. Arden tried and failed to hold back another stupid, unwelcome whine.
Jack’s attention came to him, and the smile stayed on his face. “Hello, sweetheart,” he said.
Arden blinked.
Jack leaned down, bringing their faces closer together. Beckett quickly moved his arm in front of Jack, blocking his view. Both of them sighed.
“Sorry,” Beckett said. “I’ll move it, hang on.”
Jack waited patiently as that tense wrist shifted back a whole inch.
“That’s as far as I can go,” Beckett said. “I’m sorry. I’ve never…not like this.”
“Thank you for trying.” Jack leaned in to kiss his wrist again.
