by J. D. Light
"Well, since I went in today, I just went ahead and got some of the paperwork done that I was supposed to do tomorrow, and I don't have any sessions tomorrow, so I'll just stay home, and we can spend all day together before going to the cookout."
"Fine," he grumbled, and even though I couldn't see his face, I could picture it.
"You pout like your dad."
He gasped and his head snapped up, and I was already scrambling off the couch, barely getting my leg out of the way before he latched onto it by the ankle.
"Take that back," he demanded, once again reaching for me, and this time catching the tip of my shoe.
Damn. I was fast, but Hunt had those long fucking arms.
I kicked out of my shoe, a laugh escaping me, and I would have made it if my fucking socks hadn't slipped against the hardwood floor. Hunt clearly had better traction with his bare feet, and he lunged, catching me around the waist and taking me to the floor, rolling us so that his huge body didn't crush my much smaller one.
I knew it was too late. Once Hunt got ahold of me, there was no way I was going to get away unless I pretended I was hurt, and that had only worked a half-dozen times before he stopped trusting me.
The door opened, and we both looked up meeting Presley and Fields's gazes. Presley was clearly trying not to laugh, his lips tucked between his teeth while Fields sighed, shaking his head.
"Some things never change," Fields said, taking the bags out of Presley's hands and heading toward the kitchen. "How many times have I walked in on you guys dry humping on the floor?"
Hunt chuckled as I huffed, but when I took stock of our bodies, it was hard to ignore the fact that I'd managed to settle against his chest, my thighs spread wide and bracketing his hips. My hands were braced on either side of his head, and his arms were wrapped around my body, holding me hard against him.
If someone walked in on us that didn't know we weren't actually romantically involved, they'd probably very much mistake our position for something quite intimate.
Hunt met my eyes, and I could almost swear they were darker than normal, the bright green in the center that faded out into the brown engulfed by his pupils. If I didn't know better, I would swear he was turned on.
I was definitely getting more and more turned on with every second I sat there, my body pressed to his, and if I didn't get off of him soon, he'd definitely know that.
Clearing my throat, I patted his chest and climbed off of him, purposely putting weight on his diaphragm as I stood, making him grunt. "It's time to party, Hunt. We'll have to put our dry humping on hold."
"Yay, a party," he grumbled dryly.
◆◆◆
Presley sighed, a small frown popping up between his brows. "Not everyone needs to be in a relationship to be happy, Knight. In fact, for some people, having the freedom to just be is the happiest they'll ever be."
Knight blinked over at Presley, his pretty light-yellow eyes wide, like they didn't already take up so much of his face as it was. "I didn't mean it like that Pres. I just mean that those of us who are trying to date would probably have more luck if we were making regular road trips to Lincoln."
Presley hummed, pursing his lips. "Well, you guys can go without me. The idea of being crammed in a club with a bunch of sweaty bodies makes me feel trapped just sitting here."
That might have been the arm Fields had slung over his shoulder as they sat next to each other on the couch, but since Fields seemed to be the only person Presley ever really allowed to touch him besides his son, Dixon, I definitely wasn't going to mention it, especially since, in my friendly opinion, not my professional one, I thought it was good for Presley to have one person in this world that he trusted explicitly, and though Fields sometimes drove him up the damn wall, he seemed to be that person for Pres.
Pres had been through it, and he, above most, deserved happiness, and he deserved it however it came to him. Barely twenty-two, he had a three-year-old boy after being forced into two different matings while being held captive for almost five years.
The story was sad and I wasn't sure how the guy had survived everything that he'd been through, but three years had passed since Fields had opened that closet door to find him huddled on the floor, clutching his belly in pain, but too scared to call out.
I wasn't sure what Fields had said, or if he'd said anything, but he'd immediately latched on to the raven shifter, and wouldn't let the man go for hours after, even when with him definitely being in labor and having to be taken immediately to the elders' to deliver the baby, Fields had been dragged along and was there for the birth of little Dixon.
The problem these days seemed to be that though Presley was incredibly independent, Fields was struggling with his need to keep the guy safe and Presley wanted to strangle the big idiot more often than not.
I chuckled softly as I watched them argue about whether or not Presley should finish his pizza. The man was full, but Fields thought he should eat a little more.
Friends, right?
Hunt leaned sideways, jostling my thigh with his elbow where he sat in the deep-set chair while I sat on the arm, leaning against his shoulder with my arm resting just behind his head.
I glanced down, taking in his soft smile and giving him one of my own.
"I'm glad I'm home," he whispered.
"Me too."
Sighing happily, he turned back to the room, and I watched him for a long moment, so glad to get to see his ridiculously handsome profile in person, treasuring the swirl of hair behind his ear, since the only time I ever got to see that intriguing patch was when he was actually in the room with me. There were just some things that couldn't be captured on video calls.
Damn, he's gorgeous. And a good friend wouldn't be sitting there imagining leaning down and running his cheek over the soft hair or brushing his lips against the sexy line of his square jaw.
Licking my lips, I swallowed hard and turned away quickly, meeting the white-blue gaze of his twin sister. My eyes widened while Lexington's narrowed, and the tiniest hint of a smile curled one side of her mouth.
I rolled my eyes. This was not the first time we'd had this conversation. I didn't care what she thought she saw between us. Everyone thought they saw something between us. Sometimes, I thought I saw something between us, but we were just friends. Just friends.
We had mates out there somewhere.
I wasn't sure why the thought of finding someone else, even my mate, made me feel so horrible. I wanted that companionship… but I just wanted it with Hunt. Like it had always been.
Harris glanced over at Lexington, doing a double-take when she saw the expression on her face and then followed her gaze to me. Chuckling, my sister elbowed the woman, making Lexington glare over at her just as Ellison, another chosen child we'd all grown up with since she was the daughter of one of my Pop's lieutenants and his chosen mate Davis, walked up, immediately catching on to the situation and doing her best to hide her laughter.
I sat up a bit more, trying not to lean so much into Hunt, because being friends––and siblings in my sister Harris's case––with these people for so long, meant they thought they could just sit around and judge and make fun of me.
Of course, my weight coming off of him even slightly got Hunt's attention, and he frowned up at me. "You okay, Beebee?" he asked softly, and I sighed, melting right back into position with a nod, purposely ignoring the three women across the room for as much of the rest of the night as I could, because this was Hunt and no matter what those three thought of the situation, I was Hunt's Beebee, and I would deal with their teasing for that, especially since I knew they really loved Hunt and me, and just wanted us to be happy.
"I'm fine. Just arguing with your sister again."
He chuckled, well aware of Lexington's ability to say things without ever saying anything. Hell, I'd be surprised if the woman said more than twenty words all day long.
Chapter Three
I felt a furry body flop down next to mine, dist
urbing the air. Of course, there was no scent, since several of the people in our little group wore their delphinium religiously, even when in animal form, but I knew it was Dyer by the way he leaned into me… and the way he immediately started nibbling on my paw.
I wasn't sure why he always did that when he was in his leopard form, but he had since he first shifted when he was seven.
Eight of the eleven of us were lying around on the edge of the pond bank in our animal forms, enjoying the slightly crisp breeze of the late fall night while Harper and Presley––the only two humans––sat on the edge of the dock, talking quietly and watching the giant turtle leisurely floating in the pond while Harper calmly ran his fingers through Drew's fur just behind his big, stupid ear.
Knight was swishing around in the water, but I knew it wouldn't be long before he decided to get out. Even in his sea turtle form, I was pretty sure the water was a bit colder than he liked, though I could see why he risked hypothermia for just a little swimming time. It had to be hard being a sea creature that lived in the middle of Nebraska.
"I guess I better get around and go get Dixon," Presley said, climbing to his feet. "Davis is great with him, but that boy questions everything.
Harper chuckled, nodding. "And Davis tells too much."
I chuffed out a laugh in my bear form, remembering the time I'd asked him about his suspenders when I was ten because I thought they were really cool and wanted a pair, and somehow, he'd ended up telling me how big Ward's hands were. Dad had laughed so hard he'd fallen out of the booth at the diner and I'd just turned to Papa and asked if I could have some suspenders. I later realized hands were a euphemism and couldn't look my Uncle Ward in the eye for a while, because I really didn't need to know that about him.
The flutter of wings let me know that Fields had taken off from where he'd been perched on top of Taylor's giant tiger head, because it irritated Taylor and made Fields and Sharp laugh. I had no doubt we were about to listen to him and Presley argue all the way to Presley's car, because the man thought the chosen shouldn't be walking through the dark by himself.
"Fields," Presley said on a groan. "I drove my car over here, remember? You don't have to walk me."
The man in question came stumbling out from behind one of the bushes, in nothing but his boxers, and holding the rest of his clothes like he knew Presley would leave him if he didn't hurry. "I know. I just want a ride to Dyer's."
"You could fly faster than I could drive."
Fields grunted, shrugging his shoulders and Presley rolled his eyes, walking toward the little parking area with a mostly naked raven shifter hot on his heels.
I had to admit, the area they had to walk through to get to the cars really was pretty dark, and though I knew Presley was practically fearless sometimes, I couldn't believe he wasn't just a little nervous to walk by himself.
We all watched in bemusement as they disappeared into the dark, Fields stumbling around as he tried to put his clothes on while walking, since it was pretty clear Presley wasn't going to slow down.
Shortly after their noise turned to nothing, there was the rustling of everyone shifting and getting dressed, but Dyer and I just continued to lie there, snuggled in close. His breath evened out into sleep about the time I felt myself start to slide into it myself, and if I could have smiled in bear form, I would have.
It felt so damn good to be back in Purdy with my family and friends, but especially with him. There was nobody in the entire world that made me feel so at peace than my Beebee, and I didn't even flinch when he bit down a little hard on my paw in his sleep.
◆◆◆
"So, you're not even wearing pants now?" Dyer asked from somewhere behind me, and I turned, wondering if he was talking to me, or if someone else was standing in his kitchen with me.
Who walks around without pants on? Heathens.
"Hmm?" I asked, when I found him, leaning against the counter in loose lounge pants and a baggy T-shirt that looked like… "Hey! That's my shirt."
He didn't even check if I was right, just continued to let his eyes move over my body, and I glanced down, confirming that it was me, standing in his kitchen with nothing more than a thin pair of light gray boxer briefs on, and I shrugged. It wasn't like it was the first time I'd ever run around his house in my underwear. I made no apology for my heathen ways.
"Oh. I think I took them off sometime in the middle of the night, and I'm not really sure where they ended up. I was too tired to look."
He licked his teeth, clearly trying not to laugh. "Umm. I can see your dick."
Did he just say…? "What?" I choked out, needing clarity. I could swear he had just asked to see my dick.
"Those are really light," he said, nodding his head down to my crotch, and I glanced back down, once again conceding that he was indeed correct. My underwear was very revealing… and matters were only getting worse, since the longer he looked at my crotch––and he definitely was staring at it––the tighter my already tight and thin boxers got.
Dropping my hands down in front of my junk, I moved toward my room, skirting around the edge of the kitchen while watching Dyer, which was why I saw the moment his blatant staring turned to amusement, and by the time I slipped around the jamb between the living room and kitchen and took off down the hall, Dyer was laughing so hard, I was sure he was flopping all over the counters.
As soon as I hit the door to my room, I glanced down at my fully hard dick, and groaned. This whole situation was getting worse. I was just barely a step above walking into the same room as him and immediately popping wood. If I hadn't been so out of it, I probably would have.
Looking around the room, I spotted my pants hanging oddly from the closet doorknob, looking almost like the lower half of a body standing there, and I blinked, chuckling softly before retrieving them and quickly putting them on. I glanced over at the necklace sitting on my dresser but decided against even bothering.
I wasn't planning on going anywhere, and as far as I knew, nobody was coming over… not that it would really matter with the people who'd probably be showing up here. We were pretty smack dab in the middle of the leap's land right outside of Purdy. Only members and special guests would be venturing around here without being escorted straight to Dyer's Pops if they weren't just nosey humans, since any shifter would definitely smell that they were on leap land, and they would know that they had to check in with the alpha first.
Plus, I'd be spending most of the early part of the day wrapped around Dyer, and if he was wearing his necklace, it would cover my scent just fine.
Thankfully, by the time I was covered a little better––at least my lower body––my dick was a bit calmer, and I felt like I could face my friend without revealing a little too much.
I slipped out of my room and made my way back toward the kitchen, stopping as I passed the couch, once again catching that alluring scent that was both familiar and… something else. It made my chest warm and that situation down south come back around.
Again, it was too faint to get a very good lock on it. The scent had to be several days old, possibly a week, and I didn't have my Papa's nose, but there was no doubt that it was intriguing.
As I walked around to the front of the couch and crouched down, pressing my face closer to first the back and particularly a space where two cushions pressed together that seemed to be more concentrated, I wondered if I'd be able to talk Papa into coming by and sniffing this couch for me.
I chuckled lightly when I thought about the irritated look on his face, and the deep sigh I'd get for that. It would hardly be the strangest thing anyone had asked him to sniff with his super sniffer, but the Lord knew the man had definitely had to learn some patience in the last twenty-six years just by being mated to Bennett Emmerson James Lane. He probably expected a phone call like that from one of his kids, and Lexington wasn't about to care about a scent that made her head spin a little.
"Is this going to turn into a thing?" Dyer asked from the doorway leadin
g into the kitchen. "You sniffing my couch?"
I held up a hand to keep him at bay, desperately trying to hold on to the scent as much as possible. "I smell something. It's light, but it smells… Has anyone been here lately?"
He frowned, looking thoughtful and then slowly shaking his head. "No. The last time I had anyone over here that isn't part of our normal group, was probably like six months ago."
I wasn't sure which issue was more pressing, the jealousy that shot through me at the thought of him bringing anyone home, or the fact that one of our friends might be behind this scent. It did seem like a familiar scent, or at least like I should know it.
The jealousy won. "Someone special?" I asked, my voice wobbling at the end as I tried to work the growl out. I wasn't entirely sure where that came from, and I knew by the way one of Dyer's eyebrows slowly rose that he'd caught the bobble too and wasn't really sure what to think of it.
Finally, he huffed, walking further into the room and plopping down not far from where I'd been investigating, his delphinium chasing away the scent. "You know better than that. I don't bring my hookups home with me, Hunt."
I grunted in response, since I did actually know that. Neither of us had really ever been super sexual growing up. Sure, puberty was what it was, and we'd both come out fairly early on, so loading up and going to a gay bar that we'd both had to sneak into when Dyer turned eighteen had obviously been a thing.
We'd both found someone to hook up with that first night… and had both been thoroughly traumatized by the whole experience, since apparently, neither of us had actually been ready. We hadn't tried it again, and it wasn't until I moved away that either of us even tried hooking up again, since we mostly just liked spending time together rather than picking up men.
As far as I knew, neither of us had actually bottomed. Dyer had been talking about dating some lately, but I knew he was procrastinating, because he was hoping to find his mate, even if he hadn't said it, and he'd said many times that he would only bottom for someone he trusted.