by T Shadow
A gasp shocks him as I rip the bowl back out of his hands and place it back on the side with the others. “You can’t have it yet, you need to put cheese on it!” Grabbing the cheese from the fridge and the grater from the cupboard, I mutter “freaking amateurs,” whilst furiously grating cheese onto the pasta in all five of the bowls. Just as I finish, a loud pounding sounds from the front door. It takes a second for the guys to realise that it’s Alpha and Hothead, but it only takes Lucius a second to start shrieking and running towards the door like the house is on fire, or he’s secretly a dog and the postman is outside.
Should I warn the two assholes about the fox? The choice is ripped away from me as the door swings open and the fox leaps onto the first person he comes across. I can’t see who it is, but I hear a few curse words as Lucius starts biting onto the small amounts of flesh he can get his razor-sharp teeth on.
I leave the little rascal to his destructive tendencies. There’s no way in hell I'm putting myself in the middle of that one. Instead, I carry the bowls over to my small wooden table and place them down on the placemats, readily available to be eaten if and when each of the merry band of muppets decide to. It doesn’t take them long, once Lucius has finished his violent posturing, Landon and Remington finally make their way inside, closing the door seconds before I’m ready to start whining about the cold draft.
They walk in and then stop dead in their tracks when they see me laying the table for them to eat at. They're probably unaccustomed to eating at a table that has been set, and a meal that has been cooked for them. I think they’ve stopped to gawk at the table art, but no. First, they stare at the table, then they stare at the hoards of sauces gathered in the center, and from there it all goes down hill quite rapidly.
The hoards of sauces aren’t the only hoarded item on show tonight. Oh no, if you look closely, there are hoards of items everywhere. They’ve just been placed out of Mika and Lucius’ reach. There’s books everywhere, which is practically heaven for Finn and I. On the windowsill there’s loads of decorative glass figures. Mika’s DVD collection has somehow made its way into my home, so I doubt that it'll ever leave. Although there’s one throw blanket on the back of the sofa, if you looked carefully behind my armchair, you’d see a stack of them, some new and unopened.
I could go on forever, but I’d be here all night. You’d think they’d walked into a typical dragon stereotype or something. But not to be deterred, I grab a handful of forks, throw them down on the table and then sit down in front of one of the bowls and start digging into my meal like a man starved. All guys follow my lead, quickly abandoning shoes, coats and anything else in hand. Except Remington, but fuck him. I have more important things at hand, like food. Thankfully my pasta is still hot, and it’s at the point where the cheese has melted to the best consistency. Digging my fork into the gooey, carb-filled mess, I lift the fork to my mouth and inhale the food like I’m taking my last breath. The subtle flavours burst across my tongue with enough vigor that I moan at the sensation.
It seems that all my problems have disappeared, but unfortunately, life likes to hit me when I least expect it. I had forgotten, in my food-fuelled haze that dickhead numero uno hadn’t taken a seat at the table, but when my moan rings throughout the room like a mating call, I’m suddenly reminded of his presence. Especially when he rips me out of my chair and away from my food before firmly planting his lips on mine.
How shocked can you be when you’re caught off guard? I’m in the middle of eating, an act that should remain undisturbed, and now I’m being kissed by the guy who stalked me no more than two weeks ago. What is wrong with the world, and why is it taking it out on me?
Although, I can’t really complain about the kiss. He is good, but because I’m seconds away from hangry—apparently that’s a word, I bite his lip without a second thought. It doesn’t have the desired effect, considering he’s still holding on, but it seems to spur him on further. As he pulls back reluctantly with a somewhat less-threatening growl, almost a purr, his eyes become milky when they look at me. Which can only mean one thing.
I have another mate bond. This time however, it was somewhat forced.
Great.
Fuck my life, why me?
UGHHH.
From this distance, I can smell Remington’s bitter scent which reminds me of salt. I’m guessing that the guy is a blue water dragon. It doesn’t surprise me, considering he’s a little standoff-ish and somewhat domineering, but the way that his smile splits across his face all but confirms it. The thing about water dragons is that, when they smile, they look like they’re about to pick their teeth with your bones. They’re one step away from half-shifting and showing off their pin-needle sharp teeth.
“Mine.”
Oh boy. There it is. That dreaded and most sought out word in any shifting community. My beast bristles inside of me whilst I smack myself in the face internally. Another one to add to the horde, I guess.
I see that my suspended silence is not taken as a probable rejection, but more as a silent acceptance. I don’t know how that makes the mating bond okay, but I know if I tried to stop it I’d have an unwilling beast and a void I could never fill for the rest of my miserable life. So with that in mind, I lean into him like he’s a scent I couldn’t get enough of, a touch I longed for, and a sight I wouldn’t mind waking up to every morning.
I experience bliss for half a second before the uproar begins. First, it starts off with Finnegan shouting, “Really? You too? I didn’t mind sharing eternity with Leland, but you as well? Well fuck me up the arse cause I really got the short end of the stick here!” Leland just lifts his elbow and Finn touches his elbow to his like a weird handshake. Maybe it's because Leland is currently occupied with eating rather than shouting. As he greedily wolfs down the pasta, I try to remove myself from Remington’s arms, but to no avail. Looks like I’m getting a fucking front row seat to this shit show.
"What's wrong with living the rest of your life and with me? I'm not half as annoying as Landon!"
"Hey! What the fuck was that for? Now she's never gonna like me!"
"Wait, you too? Fuck my fucking fuck fuck."
“You’re both a pair of begging pricks!”
“Eat a bag of dicks, ya shit brain!”
The arms around my waist tighten a fraction, seconds away from becoming one of those aggressive bear hugs that threaten to snap even the toughest of ribs. I'm afraid for my own because although we are strong, that doesn't prevent us from getting injured.
Their arguing goes from prepubescent to adult matters, something about Finnegan breaking a door and Remington breaking a towel rail. So whilst they measure dicks, I pull myself out of my newly-acquainted mates arms and wrestle over to the table where Leland is quietly feeding Lucius some pasta.
Sitting in front of my bowl, I continue shoveling my food in my mouth. It's luke warm now after all of the kerfuffle, so I eat most of it in seconds before it's too cold to enjoy. Watching Leland, I take a second to say, "not too much or he'll get fat," before continuing.
That stops Leland in his tracks, his fork paused between him and Lucius with a nice, big piece of pasta speared on the end of it. Lucius looks at the pasta like butter wouldn't melt, but gives Leland a side eye with the expression 'if you don't give me that pasta, I'll fuck you up'. Or, that's what I imagine he's thinking. Leland gives him the pasta after the prolonged waiting time, but warns him, "that's your last one buddy, we don't want a pudgy fox 'round here. We'd have to call you tubbs." Lucius answers him with a sneeze, which I always thought meant 'yeah, whatever', or whatever.
As that sly fox slinks off somewhere, probably into his little fox cave at the end of the bed to escape the incredulous amount of noise being made between Finn and Remington, Landon sits himself down in the seat next to me, but scoots it closer as if we're going to share some sordid secrets. I hope that's what we're going to do, considering I know nothing about Landon except he was in the Guard a while ago before being dismissed
and he has a mighty temper, but that's it.
As he leans closer, he takes my hand that's holding the bowl steady and holds it in his, making me turn away from my now cold food to face him. It would've been a sentimental moment if there weren't accusations flying around like, "you always want what we have!", "haven't you done enough?", "I saved your beast from tearing her head off!" And my favourite, "what're you gonna do now Remington, run back to yer Daddy?!"
I take it out of context like the dirty minx I am, thinking about Remington tied up with rope and leather, handcuffs and a ball-gag. It sounds hot, and if it did happen then at least it would be quiet in this house. Landon's palms squeeze my hand, so I turn my attention to him.
He looks… remorseful. It's not an emotion I'd expect Landon to feel at all, if not often. The way he’s clasping my hand is the same way when you try to break bad news to people who least expect it. Is that what he’s doing, breaking some bad news to me? Surely I’ve had enough news today to last me a lifetime. His mouth opens and shuts a few times, like he’s chewing on the words to say to me, if they sound right or not. I guess whatever he’s going to say, he doesn’t want to mess this up.
“Remi… I…”
“J-Jesus wept man, just spit it out already.”
“Coming from the guy with a stutter, that’s a bit rich.”
Leland’s face reddens and he pushes back from the table, making his chair screech across the wooden floor. It’s a shrill sound that cuts through all the noise in the house for a second before it resumes. Leland removes himself and goes towards the back of the house as Landon finally musters up the courage to speak.
“Remi, look… I... I wanted to apologise for every word that came out of my fat mouth before.” Taking a breath, he closes his eyes, “sometimes, okay, most of the time, I don’t think before I speak. I put my foot in my mouth more times than I put them in front of me when I’m walking. It’s just… I didn’t know. None of us knew, really. I mean, we had all heard the stories, but I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Or anyone like that, for that matter.” I nod, and he finishes up his apology of the century. “I just, I’ve felt the mate bond since the first day in the bar, you remember? When Mika shredded one of the few outfits I had?” He laughs nervously, it's a sound I definitely prefer over his shouty-voice. “I don’t want you to count me out because of my attitude before, and I don’t want to kiss you if you don’t want me too. I have a feeling you’ve been unwillingly forced into mating bonds you didn’t expect or want, on some level. Well, I’m giving you a choice. If you want me, you know where I am. I’ll wait for you, Remi.” We both look over at Remington and Finnegan, who are seconds away from having a fisticuffs, when he says, “I better stop them. At least I’m not that much of an animal.”
I smirk at the comment because that’s what we are, animals. I know we’re not meant to behave like them so much, but I’d rather one of them throws a punch than a fireball. It’s the small things that matter in the end, like them fighting over my honour, Leland standing up for himself, and Landon apologising. As Landon goes to stop the small war in my living room, I look for Leland in the back of the house. Considering there’s not that many places he can go, I head for the spare room first.
Leland sits with his legs crossed on the edge of the bed, staring aimlessly out of the window that faces the back of the property. Landon’s comment must’ve really got to him, the whole thing about the stutter. I haven’t noticed it as much since the claiming, but there was always some speculation about its powers over the individual. No superspeed or anti-aging properties, but you felt a hell of a lot more like you were always meant to, rather than how you always did. Almost as if you became your true self, rather than some imposter.
I perch on the bed beside him, trying not to jostle him too much but providing some comfort all the same. Our arms are so close that they’re almost touching, our pinky fingers only a millimeter away from each other. Moving my hand closer, I place it on top of his. He jerks slightly from the touch, as if he didn’t realise I was there, but instead of ripping his hand away like he’s been burned, he curls his palm around mine and lets go of the breath that he’s been holding in.
“I’m sorry that Landon said what he did, Leland.” Stroking my thumb gently back and forth over his I add, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it.”
My heart squeezes when he laughs. It’s not a sound you make when you find something funny, but when you don’t believe what someone else has said. If I put more effort into it, he’d probably seem a little more incredulous.
“I’m sure he did, but you don’t need to apologise for him.”
“I’m not, I just… don’t want you to think it’s okay to have those things said to you.”
“I know and it’s okay. As long as you don’t say those things to me, I’ll be fine.”
“I won’t,” scooching closer to him I push my arms around his waist and pull him closer to me, “I’ll just make fun of your age instead.”
“That’s fine, but expect me to make fun of yours.”
I mock-gasp, smacking his shoulder playfully. “If you can figure it out, you can take the piss out of my age.”
Smiling as he turns his head, he lifts his free hand to push a stray hair back behind my ear. Instead of a full blown smile, it’s more like a smirk. Confidence looks good on him, but even the most confident of people have some morals.
As he leans into me, he whispers, “Remi… Can I kiss you?”
“You can kiss me anytime you want.”
At my reaction, he pulls back slightly with a puzzled look. “You’ve watched Sweet Home Alabama?”
“What?” Confused, I reply. “No, you twit. Just kiss me already.”
“Yes ma’am.” As he gets closer and I can feel his breath on my lips and I close my eyes in anticipation, but just before he actually does I hear a whispered, “you are old enough to be a ma’am, right?”
I have no chance to rip this kid to shreds, especially since he’s insulted me twice in a matter of moments, because he’s kissing me with a ferocity I didn’t know he had. I feel teeth nip my lip in a way that screams ‘open up’ and I’m more than happy to oblige. Our tongues meet in a gentle commotion, but our bodies come together like two opposing magnets. Without a second thought, because who is really thinking during pre-foreplay? I’m hoisted onto Leland’s lap like I was as light as a feather. Instead of our hands being entwined, his hands are holding onto my waist, keeping me in the perfect position for his cock to brush over the spot… repeatedly.
It’s like all of my sexual organs went into hyperdrive, and there's a maelstrom in my brain stopping me from even considering bad decisions. The position allows me to be the dominant one, and I take advantage of it. Forcing Leland’s shoulders down, I lay him flat on the bed and crawl down on top of him, brushing my center over his fully erect manhood with purpose. If the boy wants to play, I’ll play.
I push my hips down so I grind down on him not-so-surreptitiously, and a moan leaves Leland’s lips thats loud enough, you can't not hear it. It’s going to attract attention like an atomic bomb going off, so without further ado, I grind myself into him a little harder, bite his plump lip between my sharp teeth and pull his hair in the opposite direction so that I’m torturing all of his heightened senses.
Just as he begins to reciprocate I pull myself away and off of him. I leave him panting for breath and blinded by the ceiling light as three large, concerned dragons rush into the doorway at the same time, smashing limbs and heads off of the door frame in a beautiful melody of curse words, grunts and thuds. It’s like music to the untrained ear.
Looking from Leland ruffled and unkept on the bed, to me, with flushed cheeks and bruised lips, they come to their own conclusions.
Unfortunately, it only lights the fire in their eyes. A competition between comrades and a prize to be won.
I guess that prize is me.
"I don't understand why you think you can have her!" Finnegan shouts in my fa
ce, spit flying in every direction and if it was two inches to the left, it would've missed me. "You didn't even warn her! You just forced your beastly side on her without a second thought! That's not how you win over our mate! She even cooked for you, you dumbass!"
Landon stands between us like a human riot shield, mainly preventing Finn from ripping my head off. He keeps reminding me, but I know I'm in the wrong. Truly and deeply. It was wrong of me to have stormed over there and forced that kiss on her, but I was a man starved of any intimacy and I wasn't gonna let that shit go when it was within reach.
I can’t believe I have a mate. When you live for centuries without finding one, you don't think you ever will. But when you feel that tingle over your skin and your beast roars inside of you, you don’t fucking ignore it. Finnegan has finally, yet reluctantly, accepted the situation and is now telling every way that I fucked up, in grave detail. It means that I'm able to sit down and eat the cold pasta that Remi has made with him shouting at me. Landon sits beside me as Finn's words go right through one ear and straight out of the other, but there's one thing I remembered. Finn was right, she had made us food for all of us. That was unheard of for unmated males. Female dragons don't wait on hand and foot for their male counterparts, especially if they're not mated, so to have the honour of being served a meal… It was truly something special. Even if it was just cheese and tomato pasta.
As I eat, I think of all the ways I could make it up to Remi. She doesn’t particularly like me right now, but that’s okay, I’ll repair the damage, I know I will. Even if its the last thing I do on this fucking earth. I'll even get some pointers from Finnegan, considering that he thinks he's the modern day Cupid. When I'm nearly finished with the pasta, which was good even though it was cold, I ready for the next round of cursing and insults when a low, loud moan comes from the back of the house.