Chapter Twenty-Six
Leyden chopped vegetables with focused precision. He was following the recipe he’d memorized diligently. He was making Connor’s favorite - grilled chicken with roasted vegetables and garlic mashed potatoes. Simple enough that Leyden wouldn’t screw it up, fancy enough to feel special.
He’d purposefully sent Connor on an extended patrol rotation specifically to give himself time. Candles waited on the dining table, unlit for now. Soft jazz played from the speaker in the corner. He didn’t want to do anything over the top which could make Connor feel pressured.
Just a nice dinner. At home. Together.
The chicken sizzled as Leyden flipped it. It was golden and smelled amazing. His mom had walked him through the timing earlier that morning, repeating things as needed while he scribbled notes like a nervous teenager planning his first date.
Which, in a way, he was. Their first real date at home. Just the two of them, no pack interruptions, no crises, no alpha business…hopefully.
Just mates being mates.
Leyden checked the potatoes. They were fluffy and ready for mashing. The vegetables looked good, caramelized at the edges like his mom had promised they would be. He dimmed the lights, lit the candles, and plated everything with more care than he’d ever given his appearance before a hookup.
Connor mattered.
The front door opened a few moments later.
“Leyden?” Connor’s voice carried confusion and wariness.
“I’m in here.”
Connor appeared in the doorway, still in his patrol clothes, hair messy from shifting. He stopped dead, staring at the candles, the plated food, the soft music.
“What’s this?”
“Dinner.” Leyden pulled out Connor’s chair. “For you.”
Connor’s throat worked. “You cooked?”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I’m capable of basic kitchen tasks.”
“You hate cooking.”
“I don’t hate it.” Leyden waited until Connor sat before taking his own seat. “I just never had a reason to bother before. Don’t wait on me, start eating.”
Pink spread across Connor’s cheeks. He picked up his fork, took a bite, and his eyes widened.
“This is really good.”
Leyden’s chest warmed. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. Seriously.” Connor ate another bite, then another. “This is my favorite.”
“I know.”
They ate in comfortable quiet, broken by Connor’s occasional hums of appreciation. Leyden watched his mate’s shoulders gradually relax, the tension easing from his jaw, his movements becoming loose and easy.
Connor looked happy. Genuinely, completely happy.
“Tell me about patrol,” Leyden said.
Connor launched into a story about Marcus accidentally shifting mid-sentence when a rabbit startled him, ending up tangled in his clothes. Leyden laughed, and Connor chuckled alongside him. One of those precious moments when they were in accord.
They talked through dessert – a store-bought pie, because Leyden knew his limits. Connor’s laughter came easier, his smiles lasting longer. Through the bond, Leyden could feel his mate’s happiness.
When they finished, Connor helped clear the dishes despite Leyden’s protests. When they were finished, they went back into the living room. The jazz was still playing – something slow and perfect for a date.
Connor stood in the middle of the room, chewing his lip.
“What’s wrong?” Leyden wasn’t sensing any issues through their bond.
“Will you dance with me?”
Leyden nearly dropped the beer can he’d just picked up. “Dance?”
“You said once that you’d teach me.” Connor’s voice had a nervous edge “I’ve never danced before. With anyone. I want to try. With you.”
I also said it was a good form of foreplay. Leyden set down his drink carefully. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll dance with you.”
He closed the distance between them, placed one hand on Connor’s waist, and took Connor’s hand with his other. Connor’s free hand settled on Leyden’s shoulder.
“Just follow my lead,” Leyden murmured. “Step back with your right foot when I step forward with my left.”
Connor moved with him, awkward at first, stepping on Leyden’s foot twice. But he learned fast – picking up the rhythm, letting Leyden guide him through the turns. Soon they were swaying together, bodies pressed close, moving as one.
Connor’s breath warmed Leyden’s neck. His hand tightened on Leyden’s shoulder. Leyden pulled Connor closer, and Connor melted into him, chest to chest, hips aligned.
And then Leyden felt it.
Connor’s arousal, hard and undeniable, pressed against Leyden’s thigh.
Leyden’s breath stopped. Froze completely in his lungs.
Connor was aroused. Actually, physically aroused from dancing, and being held.
Holy shit.
Connor stiffened, clearly feeling Leyden’s reaction. Pink flooded his face, spreading down his neck. But he didn’t pull away. Didn’t apologize. Just kept dancing, kept moving, his arousal still evident between them.
“Connor—”
“Don’t.” Connor’s voice came rough. “Don’t make it weird. I just...I want this. Want to feel this.”
Leyden’s heart was prepped for a marathon. His body had responded instantly, his arousal spiking hot and urgent. But he forced himself to breathe, to keep moving, to not grab Connor and kiss him senseless.
“Okay,” he managed. “Okay.”
They danced through two more songs, both hard, both aware, both breathing unsteady. Connor’s fingers dug into Leyden’s shoulder. Leyden’s hand splayed across Connor’s lower back, keeping him close.
Their bond pulsed between them - desire, trust, want, safety, all tangled together into something new and familiar all in the one go.
When the song ended, Connor didn’t step back. Instead, he tilted his head up, and Leyden kissed him.
Not gentle. Not tentative. Deep and hungry and real, weeks of wanting poured into the press of lips and tongue. Connor made a sound low in his throat, opened his mouth, kissing him back with just as much urgency.
Leyden’s hands fisted in Connor’s shirt. Connor’s arms were wrapped around Leyden’s neck. They stumbled toward the couch, still kissing, still pressed tight together.
Connor’s back hit the cushions. Leyden followed him down, caging Connor beneath him, their bodies aligned perfectly. Connor arched up, seeking friction, gasping into Leyden’s mouth.
“Fuck,” Leyden breathed against Connor’s lips. “Connor…”
“Don’t stop.” Connor pulled him closer. “Please don’t stop.”
They kissed until Leyden’s lips felt swollen, until Connor trembled beneath him, until their bond hummed with need.
Connor’s hand slid under Leyden’s shirt, palm flat against bare skin. Leyden groaned, rocking his hips involuntarily. Connor met the movement, gasped, did it again.
Heat built fast, too fast. Leyden forced himself to slow down, to gentle the kiss, to pull back enough to see Connor’s face.
Connor’s eyes were almost emerald, his lips red and wet, his chest heaving.
“We should stop,” Connor whispered. “I know we should. Before I can’t.”
Leyden nodded, even though stopping felt impossible. “Yeah. Okay.”
He started to pull away, but Connor’s hand tightened in his shirt.
“Soon,” Connor said, voice shaking. “Leyden, I promise I mean it. Soon. I’m not trying to tease you. I’m almost there. I just need - I need a little more time to be sure.”
Leyden’s throat closed. He kissed Connor again, soft and with all the love in his heart. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”
“Knowing that is what makes this possible for me.”