Beckett had been the one to answer the bell and Arden, startled, had all but shouted the request from across the room before Beckett had even stepped over the threshold.
His shout had sounded more like a feeble squeak, and Garvey was the one to bring the refilled teapot ten minutes later.
“My darling.” Jack pressed a kiss to his stomach, then rubbed his cheek over the spot. “You asked. So politely, I’m sure.”
“Of course.” No need for Jack to know about the squeak.
“How did Beckett respond?”
Arden hunched in on himself. “He glared at me and didn’t come back.”
Jack made a sympathetic noise.
“Jack, does Beckett even like omegas?”
“Yes.” Jack was holding Arden’s hips, rubbing light circles with his thumbs. It made it hard to concentrate. Arden swayed, chasing the gentle touch. “Do you remember what I told you in my study a few weeks ago? That I wanted Beckett to take you first? He is an experienced man. He’s been with omegas before. He—oh. Sweetheart. You don’t like that, do you?”
It was ridiculous. Arden had no claim on Beckett whatsoever. “No,” he said, loathing the thought of an eager omega lying beneath him as Arden had, taking him into their body as Arden had, and doing all of it with much more grace and skill than Arden had. “No, I do not.”
“You should tell him one day.”
Arden gave him an appalled look.
“Trust me, helping you through your heat was no hardship for Beckett. I only wish I’d handled the whole business better.”
Arden should have left it there, but he couldn’t. “And if it had gone differently…if you’d been able to take me to Avendene yourself and introduce us, and Beckett and I had got to know each other first…” He trailed off.
“Go on.”
“If you’d asked him to do it, and he said he didn’t w-want me, and that he didn’t want you to have me either. What would have happened then?”
Jack stared at him thoughtfully, and took his time. “Then, unless you’d gone into heat, Beckett wouldn’t have had you.” He sighed. “Neither would I.”
“You’d have respected his wishes.”
“I would. Does that make you angry?”
“What? No. It makes me proud of you, Jack. He is your chosen partner.”
“He is. As are you.”
Arden hummed. Reaching out, he fiddled absently with the collar of Jack’s shirt. “You and Beckett were already together. If it wasn’t for Lassit, you wouldn’t ever have asked me to marry you, though. Would you?”
Jack didn’t hesitate. “I wouldn’t,” he said regretfully, holding Arden’s gaze. “I wanted something else for you.”
Arden hadasked.
He had no right to feel that awful withering sensation in his chest at the honest answer. It wasn’t too bad, though. Most of him was satisfied. Pleased, even. He’d trusted Jack to speak plainly. Jack had.
Excellent.
Jack slid his hands up to hold Arden’s sides. “You are…innocent.”
Arden had a brief and visceral flashback to lying on the rumpled sheets of his bed, with Beckett working inside him as Arden cried out. All while Jack watched.
He didn’t feel innocent.
Jack made a soft sound and touched his lips gently to one throbbing cheek then the other. “I didn’t think you would ever have a heat.”
