by Noah Harris
Blake never had been able to resist that.
He stepped forward. His smirk widening into something playful and mischievous as he walked into Dylan’s waiting arms. He pulled his hands from his pockets, putting one on Dylan’s chest and resting the other arm around his shoulders.
“Hey there, handsome,” He said, voice pitched in a low purr. It went straight through Dylan making him shiver.
Dylan’s arms wound around Blake’s waist, pulling him in close. His stomach bumped up against Blake’s just a moment sooner than it should have, and he had to push aside the uneasiness that bubbled beneath his skin because of it. They leaned forward, faces not quite touching, but close enough that they could feel each other’s breath.
“Hey,” Dylan said, low and breathless.
“You know…” Blake murmured, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair and causing him to shudder. The fingers of his other hand curled into the fabric of Dylan’s shirt. “As much as I love a man in uniform, I’d love you more out of it.”
Dylan quirked an eyebrow, lips pursing into the barest of frowns. “We’re not doing it in an airport.”
Blake’s smirk widened, and he leaned forward to press their foreheads together. “But babe, we’ve done it in public places before.”
“Doesn’t mean we’re going to do it here and now. And not when Lily is with us.”
“Mason can watch her.”
“Blake!”
He sighed, cradling the back of Dylan’s neck with his fingers, tilting his chin up to brush their noses together. “Excuse me for wanting to show my husband how much I need him.”
Dylan shuddered again, feeling that need pulse through their bond, feeling the warmth and sturdiness of his alpha so close. He knew Blake could feel it too, if the quirk of his smile was anything to go by. He knew Blake could feel his own interest, his own desire, but Dylan had always been better at keeping a level head about his needs. Still, Dylan felt his arms tighten around Blake, just a fraction, fingers curling into the back of his shirt.
Blake arched his back, pressing himself more firmly into Dylan, rolling his hips against Dylan’s in a way that was slow and deliberate, subtle from an outside perspective but oh so delicious up close. It sent a shiver down Dylan’s spine, heat coiling low in his gut. He had to bite back a groan, low and frustrated, and saw the way Blake bit his lip in amusement.
Dylan dropped his forehead to Blake’s shoulder. “You are the worst.”
Blake chuckled, wrapping both arms over his shoulders and around his neck, running his fingers through Dylan’s hair. “Only for you, love,” he said softly, resting his cheek against Dylan’s head and inhaling deeply, his body relaxing with the exhale.
Dylan did the same, burying his nose in the crook of Blake’s neck. His scent was warm and familiar, spicy and comforting. It was earthy and heavy in a combination that was simply Blake. He missed this. He missed his mate, sturdy and warm in his arms, his scent filling his lungs, and his touch setting his body on fire. When he was on a mission, it was easy to drop into a soldier's mindset. It was easy for him to numb himself, focus on the task at hand, and push his own desires and emotions away. He never realized how empty he felt until he was back in Blake’s arms, feeling whole again.
Sometimes having a mate was a hassle, but he found it was always worth it at the end of the day.
Dylan wrapped his arms tighter around Blake, pulling them impossibly closer. “You’re a father now, have some shame,” he said, lips moving against Blake’s neck, breath ghosting across his skin.
He felt some small sense of satisfaction as Blake shuddered against him. He could smell the spiciness of his scent intensify with the increase in his desire.
“I’m soon to be a father of two,” Blake said, soft and gentle as he leaned back, separating them so he could run a hand down Dylan’s chest, coming to rest on his stomach. There was the beginning of a baby bump there. One that was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide. “And I would very much like to show my husband just how much I adore him.”
At Blake’s touch and the not so subtle reminder, Dylan felt torn. Butterflies fluttered in his stomach, warmth and happiness radiated from his core at his mate’s quick acceptance and obvious pride in his pregnancy, but beneath the warmth was a twisting sense of guilt that tasted sour on his tongue. He pushed it aside for now.
He caught Blake’s hand, holding it between them as their noses brushed, lips close enough to feel each other’s breath. “Later,” he promised, then leaned forward to kiss him.
Kissing Blake was like losing track of time. It was like coming home. It was entirely familiar and yet completely new every time. It was a spark, a rush, a wildfire. It was a gentle breeze and a hurricane. It was the ocean current dragging him down, and it was the wind beneath his wings, lifting him higher.
Warm lips, scruff on his chin, tongue hot and wet, Blake buried his fingers in Dylan’s hair, holding tight to keep himself grounded. The airport faded away. The voices around them dimmed to a distant ringing in his ears. All that existed was him, his mate, and the fire that ignited wherever their bodies touched.
Their peace was ultimately interrupted by a variety of gagging sounds.
They broke apart, turning as one to look at where Mason was standing, Lily in his arms, while the two of them made overly dramatic gagging motions and choking sounds. Dylan sighed and Blake’s eyes narrowed.
“Excuse me, we were having a moment,” Blake huffed indignantly and lifted his chin.
The fake gagging stopped, and Mason turned to fully face them, a shameless grin on his face. “Sorry, mate, but you were being gross.”
“There’s nothing gross about being in love with my husband,” Blake glowered.
“No, but there is something gross about publicly slobbering all over each other in an airport.” He smiled, good-natured and teasing. “Besides, I think Lily wants her dad back.”
As if to emphasize the point, Lily reached out, fingers grasping for Dylan, calling for him.
Blake was smiling as he reluctantly detached himself from his omega, and Dylan hid his disappointment at having to let him go. Dylan reached for Lily, pulling her back into his arms and settling her on his hip.
Mason grabbed his bag and heaved it over his shoulder while Blake grabbed Dylan’s, complaining at the weight of it. It made the other two men chuckle. Blake wasn’t weak by any means. He was leaner than Dylan, yes, but certainly not weak. Being an alpha werewolf made him naturally stronger than most. Although, Dylan’s duffle bag was heavy, even for him.
They said their goodbyes to Mason as they reached the doors, and he headed out to call a taxi. They both turned toward the parking deck, Lily continuing to talk to Dylan as they walked, and Dylan humoring her, patiently asking questions and listening intently. Blake simply walked alongside them, carrying his husband’s bag and enjoying the sight of his family back together again. He kept his hands to himself, despite his itching desire to touch his mate.
Once they were all piled into the car, Lily reminded them, very insistently, that it was tradition to go out for ice cream when either of them came home. Who were they to tamper with tradition? They stopped at their favorite ice cream shop, ate outside at one of the tables while the sun faded to dusk, and headed home, picking up dinner along the way.
Once home, Lily’s excitement gave way to exhaustion. She refused, however, to leave Dylan’s side. Once he changed out of his uniform and into a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, they all curled up on the couch to watch TV, Dylan pressed into Blake’s side and Lily curled up in Dylan’s lap. Blake kept one arm around his husband’s shoulders, the fingers of his other hand rubbing Lily’s back.
Dylan revelled in how their home smelled. The air was heavily laden with the smell of Blake and Lily, but if he concentrated hard enough, he could just about detect the lingering notes of his own scent. It was a marvel to him how after months of being away, his scent still mixed and mingled perfectly with those of the others. A s
weet note that lingered between the other two, forming something whole and familiar and comforting. He wondered if his scent would still have a place once his new child’s scent was added to the mix.
As the night deepened, Dylan stood up from the couch, carrying Lily to her room to tuck her into bed. Blake trailed behind, leaning up against the door frame. His heart warmed as he watched them.
When Dylan finally stood and turned to him, Blake held out his hand, a small smile playing on his lips. Dylan took the offered hand without hesitation, and Blake pulled him from the room, closing the door softly behind them.
He silently led Dylan to their room, stopping to shut the door before backing Dylan up against it. He slid up against him, slipping a knee between his thighs, hands settling on his hips. Dylan relaxed into him immediately, spreading his legs as best he could and wrapping his arms around Blake’s shoulders, pulling him in close.
This time when they kissed, it was slow and unhurried, but burning with a barely contained hunger, a neediness that couldn’t be contained and only grew more desperate. Blake’s hands slipped beneath Dylan’s shirt, fingers splayed wide to gently stroke his sides, his abs, his chest. His tongue slipped between Dylan’s lips, and Dylan opened up for him, moaning softly and deeply.
Blake rolled his hips, loving the way Dylan’s body reacted instantly, loving the spiciness that trickled into his scent, loving the way his hips canted back toward him, seeking the friction they both desired.
Their touches grew needy quickly, their kisses growing desperate. Time and distance from one’s mate built the need and desperation for the other’s touch to the point where it couldn’t be denied. Dylan’s hands were tugging off Blake’s shirt, and he distantly heard stitches rip, but the alpha couldn’t bring himself to care. Dylan’s hands were on his body, feeling their way along every inch of his chest and stomach, possessively and eagerly. He couldn’t think of anything else but the beautiful omega in front of him.
Blake lowered his head to Dylan’s neck, licking along the sensitive flesh until his mate tilted his head, and then Blake bit down, hard and rough. Dylan keened, back arching off the door and pressing further into Blake’s body, hands grasping desperately at his back and shoulders, nails biting into his skin, seeking more, demanding more. Blake was more than happy to oblige.
He pushed his hips against Dylan’s, both of them hard and eager. Dylan pushed back harder, pushing them off the door. They stumbled across the room, hands desperately and clumsily pushing and pulling at each other’s clothes, leaving a trail strewn across their floor.
When Blake’s knees hit the bed, he fell back, pulling Dylan down on top of him. They scooted back, and Dylan settled atop him, straddling his hips, the length of their bodies flush. Dylan’s skin was warm, sending little shocks of desire through Blake wherever they touched. His scent was sweet and dark, heady and intoxicating. Their chests heaved as they both breathed heavily through their noses, lips locked and tongues intertwined. Their hips canted together, mindlessly seeking more friction.
“Blake,” Dylan gasped when their lips separated. Blake’s lips moved down to Dylan’s jaw, his neck, his collar bone, leaving little marks along the way and dragging his teeth to claim what was his. Dylan groaned, arching into him and baring his throat.
“You’re so beautiful,” Blake murmured against his skin. “My beautiful mate.” He thrust his hips upwards, and Dylan was unable to bite back the sounds that escaped his lips. “I can’t wait to be inside you again.”
“Blake, please—“ Dylan whimpered, voice broken and heavy with desire. “I need it—please—“
Blake nibbled at Dylan’s ear, hands reaching around him, running down the firm slope of his back to grab at his ass, a finger slipping between his cheeks. He mouthed along Dylan’s jaw, burying his nose close to his scent gland to breathe him in.
Dylan’s breath hitched, legs automatically spreading a little further.
They both froze at the sound of Blake’s phone ringing loudly and obnoxiously from across the room.
Dylan groaned, forehead dropping to Blake’s shoulder as his entire body sagged. Blake ran a hand up his back, curling his fingers into Dylan’s hair while his other hand prodded a teasing finger at his entrance. He was already wet in anticipation.
“Blake,” Dylan grumbled, swatting at him as he continued to trail open mouthed kisses along his neck. “Go answer the damn phone.”
“You don’t actually want me to,” Blake pointed out, pushing a finger inside of him, making Dylan gasp. “You want me to stay right here and show you just how much I missed you.”
Dylan groaned again, the sound was filled with regret, frustration, yet also the sweet note of desire. “Go answer your damn phone,” he repeated roughly, a frown creasing his forehead, putting a hand on Blake’s chest and propping himself up on one elbow.
Blake hummed, continuing to work him open with one finger. “I don’t want to.”
“That’s Arulean’s ring tone, isn’t it?” Dylan said, trying to sound stern and not really succeeding. He still sounded breathless, eyes heavy lidded and pupils blown wide as he gazed down at Blake.
Blake nodded, lifting his head to latch onto one of Dylan’s nipples, drawing delicious sounds from the omega before letting it go with a slight pop and murmuring against his chest, “He can wait.”
“Blaaaake,” Dylan said, trying to make it sound like a warning but it only came out as a whine. He pushed Blake back down nonetheless. “He only calls if it’s important.”
“Not always.”
“But this late?”
Blake sighed, hand going still in defeat. He hated to admit it, but Dylan was right. He reluctantly pulled his hand back, and Dylan slipped off of him, propping himself up on an elbow and watching as Blake rolled off the bed. He padded across the room, crouching to pick up his discarded pants and pull his phone from his pocket. Sure enough, Aurlean’s name was displayed across the screen.
He stood, swiping to accept the call. “What’s up, big man?” He said, trying to keep the tone light despite his disgruntled undertones.
“Blake,” came the low greeting, then a pause. “Is this a bad time?” Even from across the room, Dylan’s ears pricked up, able to pick up the voice with his enhanced hearing.
“Too late now, even if it is,” Blake said, flopping back down on the bed and rolling onto his back to lie next to his mate. Dylan curled into Blake’s side, one arm resting on his stomach, dropping his head to Blake’s chest. He tangled their legs together, and Blake wrapped his free arm around Dylan’s shoulders, running his fingers idly through his hair. Dylan hummed softly against him. “So what’s up? Must be big to call us at this time of night.”
“I’m afraid it is…” Arulean said. Dylan could hear his voice through the speaker, picking up on the tired undertones. “Has your mate returned home yet?”
“Yup,” He said, small smile tugging at his lips as he gazed down at the man clinging to his side. “Just flew in this afternoon.”
“Oh, I see,” He said, an odd tone in his voice as he cleared his throat. “In that case, I’m truly sorry for this interruption.”
Blake chuckled. “As I said, too late now. Besides, you said it was a big deal?”
“Nothing that couldn’t have waited until morning…” Arulean said, sounding reluctant and sheepish. He sighed, and Dylan could hear the distress in his voice. It was subtle. Arulean wasn’t used to showing those kind of weaknesses around others, but Dylan and Blake had long since become trusted friends and allies he could call upon.
“Whatever it is, it’s bothering you enough to call me now,” Blake said, slipping into a more serious and calmer tone. Dylan called it his work voice. It was no nonsense and all business, but with an edge of concern. Dylan glanced up at him when he heard it, brows furrowing and lips pursing into a small frown.
“Perhaps it is just me being impatient, but I’m...worried.” Arulean paused, like it pained him to admit it and he was choosing his words ca
refully. “Perhaps it is nothing, but my instincts tell me otherwise, and I would not have lived this long had I not learned to heed them. This could have waited until tomorrow, but...it was weighing heavily on my mind, and it compelled me to—“
“Arulean, I get it. Just tell me what’s going on,” Blake said, he was strict and to the point but not unkind.
Arulean sighed, it was long and sounded defeated. “It’s Rajiah,” he said, and Blake quirked a wry smile.
“Yeah buddy, I figured as much. That’s the only thing that really gets you all twisted up like this. Is he okay?” His smile dropped, hand stilling in Dylan’s hair. “Is this about your son?”
“It’s about both of them, I’m afraid.” He drew in a shuddering breath. “I don’t want to say too much over the phone, but they were both out visiting old friends, and I haven’t heard from them in weeks. Rajiah never goes that long without communication, and they were supposed to be home days ago.”
“I understand,” Blake said, voice soft and grave. “Can you still feel him?”
“Yes. I can feel him, but it’s faint and it comes from a distance. I know he’s alive, however. I just...do not know where.”
“I assume that’s where we come in?” Blake said, dry humor leaking into his voice. Dylan propped his chin up on Blake’s chest, watching him curiously.
“I was hoping you might be able to assist,” Arulean said, the same dry humor mirroring Blake’s. “You two are very capable and are valued members of my inner circle.”
“Hear that, babe? We’re part of his inner circle,” Blake said, light and joking. Dylan cracked a small smile. It wasn’t anything new. After the events with Lyphnia and the Blood Pack, Dylan and Blake had been trusted allies of Arulean, and vice versa. The dragons were practically family. They were part of the close knit group of shifters that, despite the distance between them at any given time, acted very much like a pack. They trusted each other with their lives and had each other’s backs, no questions asked.