Arden turned his head and pressed a clumsy kiss to Jack’s smile.
“Mhm,” Jack said. “Softly, Arden.”
Arden tried again, reining in the desperation that flared up in him whenever he got his mouth on Jack’s. Or Beckett’s.
“Softly,” Jack murmured again, fingers tangling through the back of Arden’s hair. “Like this.” He held Arden firmly and laid his lips to Arden’s. Arden gasped and tried to push forwards.Jack’s chest heaved under his in a low laugh. His fingers tightened. “Wait,” he chided.
Arden’s breath fractured, but he managed to do it. He licked his lips and waited.
Jack rested his mouth on Arden’s for a moment. He lifted away, returned for another light press, then did it all over again.
Arden melted for it. Into it. He stopped trying to grab for the sweetness and let Jack layer kiss after kiss upon his hot mouth. He licked his lips again, inadvertently catching Jack’s. Jack licked back and Arden pulled away sharply, blinking.
He stared into Jack’s dark eyes. Leaning in without looking away, he pressed a kiss soft as a moth to Jack’s smiling mouth.
“Do you like it better this way?” Jack asked. “Do you like it gentle, sweetheart?”
Arden sighed, squirming closer and hiding his face in Jack’s neck. “Yes,” he mumbled, and daringly dabbed his tongue against the warm skin that wasright there.
Jack rubbed a hand up and down his back. “Enough for now?”
Arden nodded. For a lovely quiet moment they sat together, Arden sprawled all over Jack, and Jack seemingly happy to just be with him.
Arden was the one to break the silence—and the comfortable mood along with it. “Why didn’t you think I would have a heat?”
Jack stiffened the merest fraction.
Arden sighed. “It’s because I’m so old, isn’t it?” he said mournfully.
“Yes and no.”
Arden patted Jack’s chest. “I thought so.”
Jack had been stroking his hair. He tangled his fingers at the back once again and tugged. Arden burrowed closer, not wanting to look at him. Not wanting to see the sympathy on his face.
Jack was insistent, though. “You’re not old. You’re only thirty-one. But most omegas,” he said slowly, once Arden had given in and met his gaze, “have their first heat between the ages of eighteen and twenty. If they’re unfortunate, they do it sooner, and it’s how they present.”
“Oh,” Arden said, feeling, if it was possible, even more inadequate. And elderly. Then he said it again, with a hint of wonder. “Ohhhh.”
Jack narrowed his eyes. “Why do you say it like that?”
“Like what?”
“As if something makes sense.”
“Because now I understand why everyone was so dramatic about Clarke.”
Jack stiffened and pushed Arden back to see him better, holding his upper arms.
Interesting. Unless Arden was very much mistaken, Jack was about to be dramatic about Clarke, too.
At Arden’s tiny smile, Jack’s eyes narrowed further. “Who is Clarke?”
Abruptly, Arden stopped finding it amusing. “No one.” He glanced at Jack from under his lashes. “An alpha I once knew.”
“Arden,” Jack growled.
Arden caved at once. “A f-footman at Dalbryn.”
