by Bru Baker
That stung. Did Harris think he didn’t care about him? “It’s a legitimate question,” he said defensively.
Harris covered Jackson’s hand with his and squeezed his fingers. “It is. But you’ve got to admit, you’ve never been a talk-to-me-about-your-feelings kind of guy, Jackson.”
Because he’d never had a mate before. Jackson barely stopped himself from snapping out the retort. He didn’t want to complicate things further. It would be hard enough to walk away from Harris without admitting this was more than a fling.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” Harris said, all traces of amusement gone. “I guess maybe I’m not dealing with it as well as I thought. Humor is a coping mechanism for me. It wasn’t terrible. They threw me in a room and asked me a bunch of questions I refused to answer. They didn’t have a chance to do much else before the camp’s lawyer showed up.”
Michelle popped over to take their orders before Jackson could pick at that statement. He knew how intense an interview room was, and he doubted the FBI agents had been happy when Harris refused to speak.
Harris ordered blueberry pancakes, and Jackson flicked a glance over the menu with a frown. It wasn’t enough food for someone who hadn’t eaten in more than sixteen hours.
“He’ll have three eggs over easy too. And an order of turkey sausage, if you have it.”
“Already at the ordering for each other stage of your relationship?” She grinned at Harris and winked. “Honey, this one’s a keeper.”
Jackson ignored the way his cheeks burned and ordered himself a breakfast platter with extra meat. He’d toss a few pieces of sausage onto Harris’s plate when he wasn’t looking.
They sat in comfortable silence until the food came, and aside from occasionally reminding Harris he needed to eat more, they were quiet through that too. It was one of the things he’d always loved about being with Harris. No awkward silences. They were both just happy to be in each other’s presence. Looking back, it was kind of an odd thing to love about a friend. Maybe he’d known Harris was his mate all along, but his brain hadn’t been ready to process it.
He wished it had waited a few more years.
When the pauses between Harris’s bites stretched longer and longer, Jackson decided he was ready to go home. By the time he’d paid the check, Harris’s head was pillowed in his arms on the table. Jackson was tempted to snap a photo because he looked adorable, but he resisted. If he ended up in New York, it would be one more string attaching them.
He hauled Harris up and walked him out to the car. “You can sleep on the way back,” he told him when Harris grumbled.
Jackson buckled Harris’s seat belt and closed the door quietly, leaning against it for a long moment. Was being an Enforcer worth giving this up? Harris had literally fallen asleep at the table, and it had still been the best date Jackson had ever had.
Harris slept through the rest of the drive, barely twitching when Jackson had a conversation with the staffer manning the gate. Jackson parked in the garage and wondered if he should put the seat down and leave Harris in the car.
The thought of Harris waking up confused and alone in the garage made his wolf whine, so Jackson resolved to carry Harris back to his cabin. It was just after five, so they weren’t likely to run into anyone. He couldn’t even imagine how much teasing they’d both have to endure if Scott or Kayla caught him carrying Harris across the camp bridal style.
Harris had curled in on himself as he slept, so it was a struggle to untangle him from the seat belt. He lifted him carefully, grinning like an idiot when Harris instinctively nestled into him. He tightened his grip under Harris’s knees and nudged the car door shut. Thankfully all the doorknobs at Camp H.O.W.L. were optimized for shifted wolves, so he had no trouble getting out of the garage with his burden.
Jackson took a deep breath when they were outside, letting the scent of pine and dew fill his senses. He’d miss this when he was in the city.
Harris was still fast asleep when Jackson let himself into the cabin. The lingering scent of their come filled the entryway, making him shiver. Harris twitched in his arms.
Jackson hadn’t been inside Harris’s bedroom before, but he had no trouble finding it. Harris’s scent was concentrated there, heady and warm. The bed hadn’t been made this morning, so Jackson put Harris down in the nest of blankets and started undressing him.
Once he had him down to his boxers he pulled the mound of blankets over him, marveling at how many Harris kept on the bed. None of them smelled like stale detergent, which meant Harris actually used them all. Jackson ran hot when he slept and rarely used more than one on his bed.
He pulled a spare blanket off the easy chair in the corner and retreated to the living room. It was tempting to climb into bed with Harris, but they hadn’t talked about sleeping together. He didn’t know if Harris just wanted sex or if he wanted intimacy as well, and Jackson wasn’t going to make that decision for him.
The couch wasn’t the most comfortable one he’d ever slept on, but it would do. Especially since it smelled like Harris. Jackson drifted off almost as soon as his head hit the couch cushion.
He wasn’t sure if it had been minutes or hours, but Jackson woke with a start when he felt someone run their fingers through his hair. He blinked open his eyes, and it took him a moment to focus on Harris’s face hovering above his. It was dim in the living room, which meant it must still be before dawn.
“Need something?”
Harris looked at him a long moment before murmuring in a sleep-rasped voice, “You.”
All vestiges of sleepiness fled when Harris lowered himself onto the couch, crowding against Jackson. Harris kissed him, tentative and soft, and Jackson wrapped his arms around him and rolled so Harris was resting on top of him.
“Thank Christ. When I woke up without you, I was afraid it meant you didn’t want this.”
Jackson thrust up against him, and Harris inhaled sharply.
“I get it. You want this.”
“I do,” Jackson said, pressing a light kiss against Harris’s jaw. “I didn’t know if you would want me in bed with you, so I came out here.”
“I pretty much always want you with me, no matter where I am,” Harris muttered, his breath hot against Jackson’s cheek. “Would you come back to bed with me if I asked?”
Jackson leaned back so he could make eye contact. “Of course.”
Harris’s grin was electric. He started to scramble off Jackson, but Jackson locked his arms around him and held him in place.
“I carried you here. Did you realize that?”
Harris’s cheeks flushed. “From the car?”
“All the way from the garage, yes. And the whole way I was thinking about how hot it was, having you in my arms. Knowing you trusted me enough to let your guard down like that.” He loosened his hold on Harris. “Is it too weird to ask you if I can carry you to the bedroom?”
Harris’s breath quickened. “It’s not too weird.”
Jackson sat up, careful not to dump Harris on the floor, and manhandled him into a position he could manage. The smell of Harris’s arousal spiked, which Jackson found interesting. Though as much as he enjoyed moving Harris around like this, maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise Harris liked it as much as he did. This was his mate, after all. They were supposed to be compatible in all things.
“Someday I want to hold you up against the door and fuck you,” Jackson murmured as he stood. The burn in his muscles only added to his excitement. Harris was lean, but he wasn’t light. There was a lot of strength coiled in those ropy muscles of his, but he was letting Jackson cradle him like something fragile and precious.
Harris groaned and buried his face against Jackson’s neck. “Fuck.”
“But right now, I want you on a bed. I want to take all the time we didn’t get the first time around yesterday.”
Harris palmed himself through his boxers and a wave of want crashed through Jackson hard enough to weaken his knees. He nearly tri
pped through the threshold to Harris’s room. The bed was even messier than it had been when he’d come in earlier, and part of Jackson hoped it was because Harris had trouble sleeping without him.
He squashed that thought, since it would mean Harris would suffer when he left. He didn’t want to think about that right now.
“Want to spread you out and worship every inch of you,” Jackson murmured. He tossed Harris on the unmade bed and pounced on top of him, pinning him to the mattress.
He wanted to cover Harris with his scent, grind it into him until he reeked with it. Jackson’s wolf wouldn’t be happy until Harris bled Jackson’s scent out of his pores. He wanted to mark and take.
He ran his tongue over the spot he ached to bite, the thick muscle at the juncture of Harris’s neck and shoulder. Most Weres placed their mating marks on their partner’s wrist these days, but Jackson wanted his to be something so much more intimate. Screw being civilized. He wanted his mark to be a clear brand, advertising his claim to everyone his mate met.
Not that Harris would be wearing his mark. But if he did bite him, it would be there.
Jackson nipped at the skin, and Harris cried out and bucked underneath him. His cock filled at his mate’s unabashed arousal, throbbing when he realized he’d made faint impressions with his teeth. They healed in an instant, but they’d been there.
He canted his hips forward, desperate for friction. Harris gripped his back, his fingers digging into Jackson’s skin and urging him closer. Jackson resisted, not willing for this to be over in a span of minutes. He pulled himself back, kissing away the frown on Harris’s face as he protested the separation.
“I’m dying to get you naked,” Jackson explained when Harris rose up on his elbows, trying to follow him to finish the kiss. “I can’t get enough of looking at you. You’re gorgeous.”
Harris obligingly lifted his hips, letting Jackson peel his boxers down his thighs and toss them into the corner. Jackson sat back on his heels and drank in the sight in front of him. It was dark in the room, but he could still appreciate Harris’s golden skin and the dips and valleys of his muscles. The hair around his cock was as dark as the hair on his head, but it wasn’t the same silky texture. Jackson leaned forward and nuzzled his face into the unruly thatch and mouthed against Harris’s balls, breathing in the heady scent of him.
Harris let out a guttural moan that went straight to Jackson’s dick. Jackson shimmied out of his jeans and backed off enough to draw his shirt over his head. He slid up Harris’s body, hissing out a pleasured gasp when they were finally skin to skin.
His flesh hummed like it was alight with a million tiny sparks. If it felt this good to be lying on top of Harris, what would it feel like to be inside him? Jackson shuddered at the thought, his already hard cock jumping against the jut of Harris’s hip.
Jackson kissed him, and as soon as their lips met, it was like a circuit had been completed. The energy that buzzed along Jackson’s skin surged, leaving him so aroused he was dizzy with it. Every part of him that touched Harris felt heated—like he was standing just this side of too close to a crackling fire.
Jackson reached out blindly, trying to open Harris’s bedside table without interrupting the kiss. He groped over the cool wood, growling in frustration when he couldn’t find the handle.
Harris’s laugh vibrated against his lips. He sank his teeth teasingly into Jackson’s bottom lip, and Jackson pulled away with a yelp.
Harris rolled as much as he could with Jackson on top of him and opened the drawer, triumphantly holding up a bottle of lube a second later. “This what you were after?”
Jackson grinned. “If you’re such a smartass, why don’t you prepare yourself?”
He’d expected Harris to laugh, so he was unprepared for Harris to rise to the challenge—literally. He slid back, sitting on his heels as Harris rose on all fours and presented himself to Jackson, ass in the air as he fingered himself open.
The sight stole the breath from Jackson’s lungs. The roar of his pulse in his ears was so loud it almost drowned out the sounds of Harris’s lubed fingers sliding in and out of his ass. Jackson whined, willing himself to calm down so he could commit the sight to memory.
His fingers twitched, aching with the need to touch. He balled them into fists and forced himself to sit back and watch. If he lunged forward now it would all be over far too soon. He ignored his throbbing dick, gaze glued to Harris’s fingers as they eased their way in and out of his ass.
“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you,” Jackson confessed in a hushed whisper. It was both mortifying and freeing to admit it.
Harris moaned out a string of curses, his fingers sliding out. He rolled to his side, watching Jackson with heavily lidded eyes as he took care of his neglected erection with long, lazy strokes.
“How do you want me?”
Jackson’s throat went dry. Any way I can have you, he thought.
“I want you to ride me,” he said instead, his stomach flipping at the way Harris’s eyes darkened. “I want to be able to see you.”
He usually preferred not to face his partner when he had sex. That didn’t feel right with Harris, and he liked that it would be something special he only shared with him, even if Harris didn’t know that.
Jackson eased onto his back, and Harris was on him in a flash. He straddled Jackson and leaned forward to cup his hands on either side of Jackson’s face. Harris held him like he was precious, and something inside Jackson shattered. He’d been holding back, but now he couldn’t do anything but give all of himself to Harris. When Harris kissed him, it was tender and soft. Chest to chest, Jackson could feel Harris’s heart pounding, just like his.
“I’ve waited years to have you like this,” Harris whispered. He followed up the hushed words with another kiss, more insistent this time. Jackson wrapped his arms around Harris’s back, letting his hands skate over the dips and planes of his muscles. The dimples at the base of Harris’s spine were a perfect match for his fingers, and Jackson paused there to enjoy how well they fit together.
Harris sucked in a shaky breath and pulled back, sat up. He dug through the blankets for the lube and squirted a generous amount in his palm. Jackson nearly hit the ceiling when Harris wrapped his hand around his dick, giving it a teasing stroke as he coated it.
“No condom?”
Harris shook his head, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. “I don’t want anything between us.”
Jackson groaned. It wasn’t uncommon for Weres to go without the condom if pregnancy wasn’t a concern, but hearing Harris say it like that punched the air out of his lungs.
Jackson’s hands steadied his hips as Harris rose and positioned Jackson’s cock at his entrance. His eyes fluttered shut as he sank down, and Jackson swore his heart was in his throat as Harris lowered himself.
When he bottomed out, both of them let out a sigh. Jackson was afraid to move—he was already on the edge. Being face-to-face with Harris while he was buried inside him made him feel surprisingly vulnerable, and Jackson was glad Harris was the one in control.
Harris leaned in and kissed him again, like he sensed Jackson’s mood. When he started moving, Jackson moved with him, trying his best not to break the kiss. He brought himself up on his elbows, chasing Harris’s addictive taste as he delved into his mouth, his tongue mimicking the slow, steady strokes as Harris rolled his hips with agonizing slowness.
An electric tinge tweaked his gut at the same time Harris moaned. His fingers tightened around Jackson’s biceps, and he drove down harder on his next stroke. Jackson broke the kiss and leaned his head back, letting it hang between his shoulders. Being inside Harris was overwhelming. Jackson had never been so in tune with a lover that he felt their pleasure along with his own, but he swore that was happening. His own release was building, his muscles clenching and burning. An unfamiliar pleasure coiled in his belly, spiking when Harris would groan or hiss out a breath.
Jackson let himself fall backward on th
e bed, freeing up his arms to reach for Harris. He caressed his hip with one hand and wrapped his other around Harris’s cock, letting Harris fuck up into his fist on every upstroke. Harris threw his head back and closed his eyes, and the heat in Jackson’s belly flared as Harris picked up the pace. Jackson wouldn’t be able to hold out much longer, but it didn’t seem like Harris would either.
As he tried to stave off his orgasm, Jackson’s leg trembled. He wanted Harris to come first so he could feel him tighten around his cock. The mere thought had Jackson shuddering.
He switched up his strokes, curling his wrist so his palm teased across the head of Harris’s cock. It only took a few more passes before Harris started to tense. The roller coaster of heat in Jackson’s belly was a constant flame now, stoking his own arousal.
When Harris tightened around him and spurted come across their chests, he pulled Jackson over with him. Harris stilled, but Jackson bucked his hips up, chasing his orgasm as he sailed past the point of no return while watching his mate gasp out his name.
Harris dropped like a puppet whose strings had been cut, nuzzling into Jackson’s chest. His ragged breath was loud in Jackson’s ear, and an absurd sense of pride surged through Jackson.
He let Harris stay curled up on top of him for a few minutes until both of their breathing evened out.
“C’mon,” he said, nudging Harris’s hip. “We’ve got to get cleaned up.”
Harris muttered but lifted himself up, grimacing when the movement dislodged Jackson’s softening cock.
Jackson laughed and helped Harris roll to the side, peppering his face with kisses when it was in reach. Harris batted at him, irritated. He was already falling back to sleep.
Deciding to leave him be, Jackson got up and washed up in the bathroom, then brought back a warm washcloth to clean Harris up. He was out, barely protesting when Jackson swiped the cloth over him.
Jackson hesitated after he tossed the washcloth into the hamper. Should he get in bed with Harris? Was that too presumptuous?
Harris’s hand shot out before he decided. He wrapped it around Jackson’s wrist and tugged him onto the bed.