Chapter Fourteen
TOM
Dinner had come and gone, a comfortable evening of warmth and chatter. The atmosphere had been relaxed, the conversation easy. Jesse wasn’t present though. Tom had scarcely seen him since that first visit, not even in passing.
It was starting to feel deliberate. Not hostile, exactly, but careful. Maybe Jesse didn’t want to spend time with someone whose job was to report back to the Council. Or maybe he was simply making the most of his last days of freedom before the eyes of the world turned his way.
Now, the sun had slipped behind the hills, and dusk was deepening by the moment. Light spilling through the kitchen window behind him glowed yellow, and moths fluttered against the glass.
Tom stood at the railing with a bottle of beer in one hand, letting the breeze skim over his skin. Somewhere out in the dusk, one of the goats made a complaining sound, followed by a soft clatter and a low laugh that sounded like Tristan.
Behind him, the screen door creaked open and Bryce stepped out, holding two fresh beers. He handed one over without a word and leaned on the railing beside him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, and it felt comfortable. Right.
“They’ll be here tomorrow,” Bryce said at last, voice low.
Tom nodded. “Yeah.”
“How do you think it’ll go?”
Tom considered. “There are councilors with very different goals and only one Jesse. It could get combative.” He shot a sideways glance at Bryce.
“All couched in diplomatic terms, of course, that to the uninitiated will sound as if the councilors are on exactly the same page, just using different wording.”
Bryce made a small sound of acknowledgment. “Yeah.” He paused an instant before asking, “You’ll be straight with him? If it comes to it?”
Tom turned his head. Bryce’s expression was unreadable in the dusk, but his jaw was tight.
“Yes,” Tom said. “He deserves that.”
The response seemed to ease something in Bryce. He nodded, took a pull from his beer, and breathed out slowly.
“Long day,” he said. “Long few weeks, actually.”
Tom realized that in his attempt to understand the dynamics of the pack as Steadman had required, there was one question he hadn’t explored. “Must have been a hell of a shock, finding out your new pack member was an Argent.”
Bryce huffed a laugh. “You could say that. And Jesse—he didn’t have a clue.”
“Wait, what?” Tom felt his jaw actually drop, which was something he thought only happened in cartoons. “How could he not know?”
He’d been so careful not to ask the questions he was longing to ask, most of all—where the hell Jesse came from. Those questions were Steadman’s province, and she’d want to weigh the responses for truthfulness herself. But it didn’t mean he wasn’t curious as hell.
“As to that,” Bryce said. “Not my story to tell.”
“Of course,” Tom accepted readily, and Bryce shot him a sideways smile, full of warmth.
They lapsed into silence again, and while it remained companionable, it felt closer, somehow.
Bryce shifted beside him, his arm brushing close. Not touching, but near enough that Tom could feel the warmth of him, the magnetism tugging between their bodies like the crackle of the air before a storm.
“Tomorrow,” Bryce said softly, gaze still on the horizon. “Everything changes.”
Tom’s throat felt too tight. “Yeah.”
The kitchen light threw soft gold across the porch boards, shadows stretching long before them. Tom could smell him—hay and sun and something uniquely Bryce—and the air between them felt heavy with want.
And then Bryce turned his head, just slightly. Just enough.
That look. The focused, unguarded hunger it contained. Like Bryce had been trying not to stare all night, and had finally given up.
Tom set his beer down on the railing with a quiet thunk. “You keep looking at me like that,” he said, voice low, “we’re going to have a problem.”
Bryce smiled, slow and wicked. “I was hoping we might.”
Tom didn’t know who moved first. Maybe they just closed the space together, like gravity had stopped waiting for permission.
Their arms brushed. Skin met skin.
And Christ. It ripped through him like fire. A flashpoint. An electric shock of heat that slammed through his chest and settled low in his gut, blooming everywhere at once.
Bryce stiffened too, just for a second. Like the same jolt had hit him.
But neither of them pulled back.
Tom’s breath came fast. He didn’t think—he didn’t need to. He just turned, reached, caught the back of Bryce’s neck and kissed him. Bryce kissed him back as if he’d been waiting for this for years.
The kiss was messy. Too much, too fast, all heat and friction and breath.
Their mouths slid together like they were starving.
Tom sure as hell was, for the taste of Bryce, the feel of his warmth plastered against Tom, hands on his hips, dragging him ever closer.
God, why had he waited so long to have this?
Everywhere they touched, that same heat flickered and surged.
Bryce’s tongue slid into his mouth—slick, demanding, filthy—and Tom moaned, helpless against the bolt of heat that shot straight to his cock. He chased it, pushed deeper, needing more—needing Bryce to shove him down and take him apart until he couldn’t think straight.
He licked into Bryce’s mouth, tasting heat and want and something wild. Bryce groaned, low and wrecked, like just kissing Tom might undo him—and God, that sound was going to live in Tom’s head forever.
Bryce broke the kiss eventually. “Inside?” he asked, voice rough.
Tom nodded, his own breath catching. “Yeah.”
Bryce’s fingers caught his hand, the touch still crackling with that jolt of something sharp and hot under the skin, and he tugged him toward the door.
They moved fast, urgency humming between them as Bryce drew Tom down the hallway. The door to Bryce’s room shut with a click behind them, and they were on each other again.
Bryce pushed him back against the door, kissing him deeper now, with slow precision that made Tom shudder. Bryce’s tongue explored Tom’s mouth, taking his time like he already knew Tom would let him.
And God, he would. He’d let Bryce do anything.
Bryce’s teeth dragged over Tom’s lower lip and bit down, just a fraction too rough—just right.
Tom gasped as fire licked down his spine and straight to his cock.
He was aching with it, pulse thudding in his throat.
Fuck. No one had ever done that to him before, and now he wanted Bryce to do it again. Harder.
When he did, Tom’s knees almost buckled and he whimpered.
Bryce made a low, hungry sound, before breaking the kiss just long enough to get them moving. He walked Tom backward in slow, steady steps, kissing him between each one, until they reached the edge of the bed.
His hands were suddenly everywhere—gripping, tugging, pushing up fabric like he needed to get closer, skin to skin. Tom’s shirt hit the floor, then Bryce’s, and the sound of their breathing and the rustle of clothes was loud in the quiet room.
Bryce’s body was lean and strong and impossibly beautiful. Tom ran a hand down his chest, over warm skin and wiry hair, before splaying his fingers over Bryce’s stomach, feeling him twitch under the touch. He smelled like sun-warmed wood and hard work, and Tom breathed it in like it was oxygen.
“You’re gorgeous,” Bryce said, his voice lower now, rougher. “Been thinking about this. About you.”
Tom huffed a breath, already undoing Bryce’s jeans. “Good,” he said, pushing them down off his hips, “because I’ve been thinking about you, too. About this.” He slid his hand inside Bryce’s briefs, wrapping it around his thick, hard cock.
Bryce gasped, his hips jerking forward. “Fuck, Tom.”
Tom stroked him once, slow and firm, watching Bryce’s eyes darken as he groaned. Then Bryce was pushing Tom’s jeans and underwear down, and as he stepped out of them, they tumbled down onto the bed.
They hit the mattress sideways, tangled, and scrambled up onto it without elegance.
Tom rolled Bryce beneath him, straddling his thighs, and bent to kiss him again, deep and wet, their cocks rubbing between them.
The friction lit him up, sharp and hot, as he rocked down into it, moaning into Bryce’s mouth.
Bryce caught his hips and held him there, grinding up in return. “Want you,” he said hoarsely. “Want to suck you down until you forget your name.”
Tom groaned, and swore softly. “Yeah, okay. Okay.”
Bryce pushed him gently until he was the one on top, kissing down his chest, his stomach, mouthing every inch of skin like he wanted to memorize it. When he reached Tom’s cock, he looked up, holding Tom’s gaze as he licked his slit.
Tom’s breath punched out of him like he’d been hit. “Jesus—Bryce—”
Bryce slid his mouth down fully onto Tom’s cock, and God.
He was hot and wet, his tongue sliding along the underside with perfect pressure, his hand stroking what he couldn’t take, matching the rhythm with ruthless skill.
Tom’s hips jerked helplessly, and Bryce just held him tighter, groaned low in his throat like he liked the weight of it on his tongue.
Tom couldn’t believe how much he trusted him.
How much he wanted this, not just the release, but the man giving it.
He couldn’t look away because Bryce looked obscene like this, hair mussed, lips slick, eyes dark with want.
And he knew exactly what he was doing—his pace was merciless now, the suction perfect, pulling pleasure out of Tom in waves until he was shaking with it.
“Fuck—Bryce, I’m—”
Bryce didn’t stop. If anything, he sucked harder, deeper, his fingers curling against Tom’s hip, anchoring him as Tom’s orgasm hit hard and fast, ripping through him like lightning.
He cried out, body jolting, hips stuttering, and Bryce swallowed around him, holding steady until Tom finally sagged back against the bed, wrung out and panting.
Bryce pulled off with a wet sound and stretched up beside him, one hand brushing Tom’s jaw. His eyes were warm, amused. “You okay?”