Chapter Eight
Brad
He couldn’t figure out if he should be happy that he now had access to a bathroom to have a quick wash, or become annoyed at how his poodle got to taste Lionel first. The sneaky lick… yeah, he was peeved at that.
He wants you to lick other places. He said so. Get over yourself.
The reminder got Brad moving. He washed all the essential bits and dried himself, just not before taking a good whiff of the towel that smelled of his mate.
Dressed in the T-shirt, Brad chuckled at how it landed over his kneecaps and how his cock pressed against the front of it. He eyed the far too large sweats and shrugged when he considered the licking part of the evening might happen quicker if he went pantless.
Brazen.
And you weren’t brazen licking our mate when we hadn’t had a formal introduction? Brad felt it was important to point that out when it was brazen to wander around with nothing under the delicious smelling T-shirt that was as soft as butter against his skin.
He liked it. I could tell.
Brad couldn’t argue with that. His mate's smell had most definitely increased at the touch. He gave himself a final once over in the mirror above the sink, stepping up on his tiptoes to see. The messy curls, there was little he could do about them, and he didn’t want to keep Lionel waiting any longer now that he could scent coffee and steak pies.
His belly rumbled, reminding him it had been hours since he'd finished the muffins.
Physical work meant Brad could practically eat whatever he wanted and was always hungry.
Hungry for cock.
Pleaseee. What kind of person do you think I am? Brad shook his head, his curls tumbling around his flushed cheeks. No, don’t answer that. Brad didn’t want to have another debate with his animal side after they’d argued about his earlier behavior.
Brad straightened his spine and opened the bathroom door, peeking out, seeing the bedroom was empty, his gaze lingered on the enormous bed, his mind already conjuring a picture of him in the middle of it.
See, brazen.
Brad walked with determination out of the room, paying no attention to his poodle side, ready to prove him wrong.
He followed his nose and found Lionel in the well appointed kitchen, which had a sliding door that led out to a big backyard with a large wooden deck that held a hot tub and a large grill. Nice.
Lionel glanced at him, the green of his eyes deepening, and the flecks of gold sparkling, and Brad’s thoughts scattered like leaves on the wind.
He wanted to act sophisticated, a professional businessman, assured and confident.
What he did was whimper with need and leap at Lionel, his instincts taking over.
Lionel’s scent did crazy things to him—he was so blaming his behavior on that.
Lionel caught him, eyes widening before Brad slammed his mouth to Lionel’s, his arms snaking around Lionel’s neck to cling on.
His legs swung around the slim hips causing the T-shirt he wore to ride up.
Large hands cupped his bare bottom, and they both groaned when Lionel's palms squeezed his ass, sending delightful shivers through Brad, right as he got lifted higher.
His cock brushed against cotton, leaving a damp trail as Lionel changed the angle and pace of the kiss.
Lionel softened the kiss, teasing Brad with light kisses as he tasted, nibbled, and sucked on Brad’s lower lip, causing him to moan at the delicate touch.
“Shouldn’t we talk first?” Lionel rasped against his mouth, right as he kept on nibbling on the corner of his lips, then trailing hot, open mouth kisses down his throat.
Brad tasted the sweetness of chocolate on his lips and realized Lionel had eaten an éclair while he’d washed up.
“Talk, should we do that?” Lionel muttered as he tugged on the collar of the T-shirt. With it being so big, it gave Lionel access to his shoulder, where he continued to kiss and nibble on the skin.
“Talk?” Brad groaned breathlessly, his hips rocking against Lionel’s belly, wanting to get some friction on his needy cock. Talking was so overrated, wasn’t it?
“Yes,” Lionel answered in an equally breathy voice as his hands kneaded Brad’s ass, helping him press closer.
Brad blinked in confusion. “Yes?” What were they talking about?
What was the incessant noise? Was that his pulse buzzing in his ears?
“Crap,” Lionel groaned, moving his heavenly mouth from Brad’s shoulder, causing Brad to groan for a totally different reason. “The pies are ready.”
“Pies?” Brad was once more confused. What pies? Was that sexy code for something?
Told you. Moron.
Brad shut his eyes to close out the vision of swollen, pink lips and lust-filled eyes. He needed to get his thinking head working. Why am I a moron this time? Why? he asked.
You brought pies… remember!
“Are you okay?” Lionel asked hesitantly, interrupting the conversation, and Brad realized his eyes had remained closed.
He must look ridiculous. Where was the savvy businessman who had his act together?
He peered up at Lionel through his eyelashes and offered an apologetic grin. “Your kisses… they kind of turned my brain to mush,” he explained. They were mates, it wasn’t like Brad was about to try to lie.
Lionel’s hands clenched his bottom, while his eyes twinkled in a way that shot a spike of fresh lust to the all-ready-to-go-cock wetting the front of the loaned T-shirt. “Is that so?”
Brad nodded, his curls bouncing around his cheeks. “I’m afraid so.”
“I like it.” Lionel eyed the exposed shoulder and brought Brad closer, ignoring the alarm buzzing in the background. He licked at the soft skin. “Your skin tastes better than Morty’s éclairs.”
The rumbling in his belly didn’t quite agree with Lionel’s declaration. Lionel stopped what he was doing and stared at Brad intently. “I bet you haven’t eaten supper, have you?”
Brad wanted to say he was more than happy to feast on whatever was in Lionel’s pants instead, but he shook his head, debating with himself.
Lionel, it seemed, had other plans, and before Brad could voice his idea, he found his bare bottom hitting a padded seat and a look of determination crossing the lion’s face.
“Let’s get the pies out of the oven.” Lionel was moving toward the counter where the buzzing was coming from when he asked, “Do you like peas with your pie?”
He didn’t glance back at Brad, so he missed Brad’s wince. The weird furry feeling against his teeth made peas a no-go for him. “Erm… not really.” The understatement of the century.
Lionel paused after taking the tray out of the oven to look at him. The steam coming off the pies caused Brad’s stomach to let out a loud gurgle, alerting Lionel—in case he changed his mind—to how hungry Brad was. “You don’t like peas?” The question came with a dose of disbelief.
Brad giggled, his shoulders shaking as he nodded. “Hate them,” he managed to say through the next bout of chuckles at how conflicted Lionel looked at such a statement.
“You do like éclairs, right?”
“You’re lucky they’re still in the box. I love all kinds of desserts. Cake being my favorite kind of meal.”
Head tilting back, Lionel’s mane swished over his broad shoulders before laughter filled the kitchen and gave Brad a warm feeling in his belly. “Then once we’ve had the pies, I’ll feed you my éclair.”
Is that a euphemism for cock?
Brazen.
You were thinking it too!
Brad blocked the snort and focused his attention on the man bustling around the kitchen.
Brad noted Lionel forwent the peas as he placed the plates on the table and took the seat next to Brad.
It was then he noticed the cutlery laid out on the table, along with two empty glasses, two beer bottles, and a bottle of white wine.
He gazed at them and sensed Lionel staring at him.
“I wasn’t sure what you’d like to drink. I made the coffee and boiled the kettle, but thought you might like a beer or a glass of wine with your meal.”
Lionel blushed so brightly that Brad couldn’t fail to notice and reached out a hand and touched the back of Lionel’s. “A beer would be lovely.”
“I’m never normally this waffly,” Lionel admitted, turning over his hand and threading their fingers together, bringing the back of it to his lips to place a soft kiss there before placing it back on the table. It was such a simple thing, yet Brad all but swooned at the romance of it.
“I like it,” he confessed, revealing he wasn’t alone in how he was feeling.
Yes, a part of him still wanted to be naked against the kitchen counter with Lionel using those temping lips on other areas of him.
Only another part loved the unexpected romance, which many might consider wasn’t romantic at all.
Except Brad had watched the way Dad acted with Mom, and Brad wanted that.
The thoughtful moments—touches—that cemented a relationship.
That revealed a level of caring and intimacy Brad wished for.
Yes, sex was important—his leaking cock wasn’t quitting—but he wanted more than hot, sweaty sex, so he gave Lionel a sweet smile and held on a little tighter.
Sex can wait.
“Let’s eat, and maybe you could tell me a little about yourself?” Brad encouraged, his smile stretching wider when Lionel didn’t release his hand but used the other to reach for the beer bottle and tip it into the glass next to his plate.
“Where to start?” Lionel paused, then placed the bottle down, only to reach for the wine and fill his glass. “I have lived in this house for ten years. I bought it after I started up my own business.”
Brad reached for his fork and used it to break open the flaky pastry, releasing a stream of steak-scented steam.
His mouth watered, and he wiggled on the soft cushion, getting a little closer to the table, not thinking about how he was naked under the T-shirt.
Getting to know my mate first—that’s what’s important.
The fingers entwined with his didn’t let go, and Brad glanced from his plate to Lionel, who had reached for his fork.
“Cool. I have a house near here.” Brows arched as Lionel munched on a mouthful of pie, so Brad continued, “It’s three blocks away, I bought it when I took over the family business.
” Brad glanced around the kitchen, liking what he saw. “Do you have an office?”