Chapter 33 Harland
HARLAND
It took Harland two days to buy an apartment in the city. Located about a twenty-minute walk from the fire station, on the edge of the financial district, the penthouse occupied the top two floors of a beautiful pre-war building.
The contractor that Sandra was in the process of hiring estimated that the whole thing could be sun-proofed by the end of summer.
In addition to the penthouse, Harland had bought the rights to the space below the basement and exclusive use of the only elevator with penthouse access.
Sandra was having a second set of contractors drill down beneath the existing basement to create a secure space for Harland’s lair-away-from-home.
Putting the plans for the apartment back in his desk drawer, Harland glanced up and watched Max come sauntering through the door.
Max bounced on his feet, excited and impatient. "Are you ready?"
“I am,” Harland said, pushing away from his desk. He grabbed his gloves and tucked his helmet under his arm. “Lead the way.”
They were driving into the city to have lunch with Warren. They hadn’t seen him since the morning after their ambitious plans for a night of bondage and sex came to an early halt, but they had left things on a positive note.
It made Harland smile to think about the domesticity of the morning after.
The three of them had eaten breakfast together in the conservatory, the morning sun rising over the treetops outside the glass.
Max and Warren had still been groggy with sleep, their movements slow and unhurried as they helped themselves to a selection of eggs, bacon and toast that Harland had prepared for them.
The mood at the table had been cozy rather than sexual, their physical touches lacking the urgent frenzy that had characterized their every interaction up until then. The preview of what their lives together would look like had Harland excited for the future.
“Do you want to ride with me?” Harland asked, grabbing the keys to his motorcycle and tugging on his gloves.
It had been a long time since he’d had Max on the back of his bike.
Max grinned. “Sure, but only if I get to be handsy.”
Harland brought his motorcycle to a stop outside of the diner where they were meeting Warren. He waited for Max to dismount, and then grabbed the empty satchel he kept in his storage box so that he’d have something to hold over his crotch when they walked inside.
He needed it. His bulge was obscene.
Max had spent the whole ride teasing him, sliding his hands up and down his chest and groping his cock through his racing suit, and Harland was thoroughly worked up.
It hadn’t been his and Max’s smartest move. Now they were worked up and raring to go, but the whole point of this lunch date was to demonstrate that not everything had to be about sex.
"Sorry," Max said, standing with his jacket strategically folded over his arm to hide his arousal. “I got a little carried away.”
Harland clapped him on the back. “No more of that. We’re just here for lunch and to see him.”
“Right,” Max said, nodding. “No asking him to climb under the table.”
Harland sighed. He really wished that Max hadn’t put that image in his head.
“Hi, guys!”
Harland and Max both turned at the sound of Warren’s voice from behind them, their satchel and jacket held firmly in place over their arousal. Warren was jogging down the sidewalk, his cheeks ruddy and his hands stuck in his pockets, looking adorable in a knitted hat and loose jeans.
“Hi, cutie," Max said as he grabbed Warren and pulled him in for a hug. He rubbed Warren’s back and kissed the top of his head. “I missed you.”
Warren laughed as he turned to Harland. "I saw you like two days ago."
He glanced up at Harland’s mirrored visor, hesitating nervously before stepping forward and wrapping his arms around his waist.
Using his free hand, Harland rubbed Warren’s back and wished that he didn’t have to wear his helmet. This would have been a nice moment for a kiss.
“Hi, Harland. I’m glad you wanted to come.” Warren stepped back. “Is that a new suit?”
“He’s got like a million of them,” Max said, before Harland could reply. “I think he bought that one last year.”
“I did,” Harland confirmed. “And it’s not a million. It’s thirty-nine.”
“In other words, a lot,” Max said, wrapping his arm around Warren’s shoulders and steering him toward the restaurant.
The interior of the diner was bustling and warm. Their hostess, an older woman with a stern face, led them to their table and stood back as Harland and Max slid into their respective sides of the booth.
Harland snagged Warren’s sleeve, pulling him down to sit next to him.
“Your server will be right with you.”
The hostess was looking at Harland with a baffled mix of wariness and curiosity, and having seated them, she made a rushed exit back to the front of the diner.
“Are you used to people being intimidated?” Warren asked, glancing up at Harland.
Max snorted. “He loves it.”
Max was taking full advantage of having his half of the table to himself. He leaned forward on his elbow and opened the menu, spreading out so that he occupied the whole bench.
"I'm used to it," Harland said as he placed his hand on Warren's back, spreading his fingers over his upper back. “It doesn’t bother me.”
He dug his thumb and index fingers into the space between Warren’s shoulder blades, massaging him.
“Your whole daytime getup is very intimidating,” Warren said. He leaned forward to give Harland better access to his back. “But I like it. You look good.”
“Thank you,” Harland said, smiling behind his visor.
Their waitress chose that moment to appear, looking startled at the sight of Harland sitting there in his full leather suit and helmet.
She took their orders, nodding and not asking any questions when Harland said that he didn’t want anything.
After that, the three of them sat there and talked while they waited. Warren told them about the job offer that Marcus had gotten him, and his disgruntlement at not having “earned it” made Harland want to coo, it was so adorable.
The job sounded ideal. It was remote, so that Warren could move with them back and forth between territories, and it was with a firm that Harland knew needed to stay on the Northwestern pack’s good side.
“Stop thinking about whether you’ve earned the opportunities that are handed to you,” Harland advised. “Think about what you want your life to look like, and then take advantage of all the tools you have at your disposal to make that life happen.”
Warren nodded, but it was clear that he wasn’t convinced. Harland let the topic rest, relaxing back into his seat as Max and Warren moved on to discuss a show that they were both watching. Harland listened, enjoying their company while absentmindedly stroking Warren’s back.
“I have a question about the omega thing?” Warren said, playing with the edge of his napkin.
Harland was immediately on alert. He’d started to consider the idea that he’d been wrong on the omega front, but deep in his soul he knew that he wasn’t.
When Harland was young and busy with his pack, weeks could pass in the blink of an eye. What he’d considered fast back then was difficult to remember.
Max looked worried. "What kind of question?”
“Just what it feels like?” Warren asked nervously, still playing with his napkin.
“Arousal that won't be satisfied until you get your alpha’s come,” Harland said, deciding that blunt truth was the best strategy.
“Marcus talked to his brother’s omega about it, and he described it as a need to be filled that grew until he’d be willing to do anything to satisfy it.
Before they understood what it was, he tried to satisfy the arousal alone and ended up getting a bottle of shampoo stuck in his hole.
That’s when Marcus’s brother and his mates realized what was happening. ”
Warren let out a weak chuckle. “Well, I haven’t felt anything like that.”
“What have you felt?” Max asked.
Warren bit his lip and shrugged. “I’m not sure. Regular horny, I think. I mean, I’m dating you guys. It would be weird if I didn’t think about you guys when I was getting off.”
“Getting off how?” Harland asked.