Chapter Twenty Three
New Challenges, New Turns, and New Domesticity
Elliot
Somewhere along the way, leaving Mickey at my house became a thing.
At least, for the last two weeks. I don’t even try to pretend I’m bothered by it because Mickey is great company.
I've been experimenting with dog cookie recipes on him, and he never complains.
Gobbles up everything, with enthusiasm even.
And I get this regular opportunity of guilting Nicholas into cooking me dinner.
With all the time I've spent baking lately, I've thought about trying my hand at cooking a few times. I summarily dismissed those thoughts as unnecessary since I can have Nicholas or Oliver make me a nice home-cooked meal whenever I want. I doubt I even need to tack on the guilt. That’s more of a personal choice for fun.
Nicholas left Sunday morning for a weekend shift, this time dropping Mickey at Oliver’s because he had made a lot of complaints about the lack of Mickey time. I use the time to try out something I've been planning for a while.
They said I should give it time. It’s impossible to get it right so early into this. But to the haters, I say, you don’t know me if you think I’m not going to immediately turn a hobby into a competitive sport and try the hardest thing it has to offer.
So, here I am. My croissant dough is all ready and chilled overnight. Turns out it’s possible to take weekends off and have a life outside of work if you have a long enough recipe to try.
This dough kept me busy the entire day yesterday, between fucking, hearing Nicholas complain about the lack of baked goods despite me spending so much time in the kitchen, and him boasting about how cooking is so much better and quicker, until I threatened to revoke croissant's rights if he didn’t shut up.
I hold the ruler and the pizza cutter with precision, leaning into the counter, my dough spread out, smelling heavenly. No Nicholas around to distract me with bitching and/or abs. He is very competent at weaponizing both. I’ve been lucky enough to see him in action.
The measurements have been marked. It’s rolling time.
I smoothly cut the dough into perfect triangles and rolled them. Suck it, useless blogs.
***
The croissants disappear quickly. My fault for bringing them to the clinic. I suspect Ashley is responsible for the majority of missing cases.
“The croissants were heavenly. But when are you making the brownies again? I swear they gave me orgasms,” Natalie tells me on her way out, her Shih Tzu trotting happily behind her.
I smile at Natalie, then glare at Ashley after she leaves. “How did Natalie get the croissants and brownies?” I whisper to Ashley.
“Why are you whispering? She’s already gone,” she says in a normal voice.
I roll my eyes and go back into my office for lunch. Too bad Nicholas isn’t coming in today. He missed Nat again.
After work, I drive to Nicholas’s to deliver the croissants as promised in exchange for shutting his mouth. He texted half an hour ago that he was back home.
The door opens as soon as I knock. Fucking werewolf hearing.
He’s still dressed in his work clothes, a blue shirt that I’m sure was crisp at some point, now just clings to him like a second skin, and black jeans that make his ass look mouthwatering. Not that I can see right now. But I want to. Fuck, I want to.
He looks at me, then down at the tupperware. Then at me again. He snatches the tupperware, drops it on the table next to the door, and pulls me in. His mouth descends on mine, swallowing my complaints.
It starts at a hundred, no time for me to prepare, secure my walls. Everything with Nicholas has been like that lately. He comes in like a freight train, a wrecking ball. Destroying all my defenses and excuses.
His tongue sneaks into my mouth, his hand slides over my arms, searing my senses.
”Where’s Mickey?” I ask him, ignoring his complaining noise when I pull back.
“Oliver refused to give him back,” he says urgently, closing the tiny gap I’d made.
What? “What?” I ask, worried and horny. I mean, Mickey will be safe with Oliver. It’s not like he’s in danger, but Nicholas’s lack of reaction is concerning.
“I’ll get him back,” he assures me. He finally realizes we’re still standing at the door. He pulls me all the way in and pushes me against the wall, closing the door with his foot.
“Why do your friends keep kidnapping your dog?” I ask, genuinely concerned.
“I’d love to analyze the varieties of mental health issues my friends suffer from. But later,” he says, then dismisses my concerns with his tongue.
We make a clumsy trek to the bedroom.
“Will you fuck me?” he asks shyly.
Fuck, yes. Oh god, yes. “Are you sure?” I ask instead.
He nods. “I prepped and everything.”
“Oh, I remember. The research,” I say. “Strip and get on the bed.”
He does, and I watch those big muscles displayed like the most delicious breakfast buffet. I’m spoiled for choices. Nicholas looks at me from under his lashes. “See something you like?”
He’s lying there naked, vulnerable, but his voice is still confident, like he is in complete control. I resent that. I should edge him for hours before giving him what he wants. Show him who’s really in control.
I swipe my eyes over his body again. Later, when he isn't trying so hard to hide his nervousness. I strip slowly, making him wait. The shirt goes first. His eyes are dark, completely focused on me.
Then the pants go, I leave the underwear on for now. They make me feel more in control.
I crawl over him, luxuriating in the heat of his body, soft hair brushing me.
I drop a small kiss on his lips, tracing them with my tongue. Then I move down before he can distract me with that mouth, feeling his hot skin. His stubble scratches against my face and lips.
He grunts. His hand grabs my hair while the other fists the mattress like he’s struggling to hold back.
I kiss down his chest and take his nipple into my mouth, noting his reaction. His hand tightens in my hair. So, I swirl my tongue around, giving it some attention. Then I move on to the next one and spend some time there.
He groans. “Baby, just so you know, revenge will be vicious,” he says.
I love it when he gets like this, completely lost. Unaware of his words and what they do to me.
I kiss down his body to his fully erect cock, pre-cum pooling on his abdomen. I slide my tongue over his length. He pulls at my hair, making me groan.
I take him into my mouth, hollowing my cheeks, looking at his tight, scrunched-up face the entire time.
I pull him out, then take him back in, just as slowly, making a production of it. Nicholas is breathing fast, his body moving with every breath. He looks like a predator waiting for his moment to pounce.
But today, he’s at my mercy. And I’m going to make this good for him.
I pick up the lube that he’d placed on the bed at some point and coat my fingers with it. I slowly move my fingers over his perineum.
He clenches, so I take him deeper into my mouth and play with his balls until he relaxes, lost in the sensation. I take the opportunity to push my fingers in. The tight heat of his body engulfs me. “Okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he nods, his voice shaky.
I take my finger out, then pour more lube, and push in again. I curl my finger to—
“Fuck, that’s—Fuck,” Nicholas moans.
The next time I push inside him, I add another finger. It goes easily enough. While I slowly mouth at the head of his cock.
He looks tense, his body held by a hair-trigger, but he is taking my fingers well enough. When two fingers go in easily, I add another one while putting pressure against his prostate.
“Too much?”
“No, no, I’m ready. Fuck me,” he whispers.
I pull down my underwear that now has a prominent wet spot and put on the condom.
He turns and gets on his hands and knees.
I position myself against his wet hole, dripping for me. I move my hand gently up and down his back as I push in slowly.
The tightest heat wraps around me, choking my cock. I take a deep breath, so I don’t embarrass myself.
When I’m sure I won’t blow in under a minute, I slowly pull out and push back in.
Nicholas is silent, his deep, heavy breath the only evidence he’s affected by this. He's never this quiet in bed.
“You okay?” I ask, my breath just as heavy.
He nods low.
“We can stop if you want,” I offer, panicked.
“No—Jesus, Elliot. Don’t you dare,” he warns.
Well, that’s good enough for me. I pull out slowly, pushing in small thrusts until I’m completely seated.
Once my cock glides easily into him, I set a slow rhythm. I push into him again and again. I drop a kiss on his back, and he turns to look at me.
“I—I get the appeal now,” he breathes out.
I snort.
After a few thrusts, he becomes more vocal, more him.
“Fuck, yes, Elliot, that's so good. You're so good at this.”
I push in harder and faster, his encouragement heating my body. My dick is ready to blow up. When I feel a shock rip through me, I move my hand around to take his dick into my hand.
I jerk him off, matching the pace of my thrust. He comes into my hand, groaning loudly. His body slumps on the bed.
I follow, spilling into the condom. I crash into him.
I wait for my breath to calm down before slipping out and disposing of the condom. I clean myself up in the bathroom and bring Nicholas a wet washcloth because, manners.
He cleans himself while I lie down beside him on my back.
He turns to face me. I turn too. “So, did you like it?” I ask.
“Fuck yeah. That was amazing,” he says.
I blow out the breath I was holding. “Okay, so you like this more than the other thing?”
“I think I like everything with you,” he murmurs, looking right into my eyes.
I clear my throat. “I’m good with anything, so we can do more of this and more of anything you want.”
He cups the back of my neck and leans down to kiss me slowly. He pulls me into him, licking into my mouth. My body plastered against his.