Chapter 16
ALARIC
Beckham has been holding out on coming over to our home, but I think it’s finally time. It’s Valentine’s Day, and it feels wrong for him to spend it alone.
Staring at my phone, I wish that he didn’t spend so much time on campus. It makes it more difficult to extend a personal invite when he is surrounded by people in his professional life.
Taking a breath, I take a chance, hoping he accepts.
Me
Happy Valentine's Day, Beckham. The guys and I would love to have you over to celebrate. Are you up for it?
I have a feeling he knows where we live since he’s been following Tatum around.
Beckham
Ah, yeah. I can do that.
Me
You know where we live, right?
That’s my only hint at teasing him, and he’s quiet after my text. I don’t think it’s enough to keep him from coming over, but I can only imagine his cheeks turning pink about my insinuation.
“Okay, let’s clean up,” I growl, standing. “Looks like our omega is coming to spend the day with us.”
“Shit,” Jamie mutters, scrambling as he looks around. “You could have given us a heads up. What the hell, Alaric.”
The house isn’t even messy, I just enjoy watching them freak out. Tatum glares at me as he stands and begins to pick up the small things left out. A coffee mug, a pair of socks, etc. Meanwhile, Jamie begins vacuuming, a stressed out look on his face while I hide a smile.
Getting up, I start to make lunch since we haven’t eaten yet. Chicken and rice bowls are easy and taste amazing, so I’m cooking when Beckham rings the door bell.
Keeping busy helps to hide my nerves. It’s how I handle most things in my life. I’ll go for a run, spar, or shake down people for money they owe my dad. Most people think that I’m the most responsible and calmest alpha in my pack, but I’m simply better at hiding behind my facade.
“Someone answer the door, please!” I yell, stirring the seasoned chicken in the pan.
I strain my ears to listen for Jamie or Tatum, shaking my head when I can’t hear them. Fuck, they must have decided to change.
I’m wearing my normal jeans and black long sleeved t-shirt, my feet bare as I move the pan off the burner. Turning it off, I walk quickly across the house to let Beckham in. Opening the door, I grin at him, enjoying his dressed down clothes.
A pair of jeans and a Henley long sleeved t-shirt with a couple of buttons open may as well be the equivalent of slutty man-lingerie for him.
“Hey, gorgeous. Come on in. I’m making lunch,” I say, drinking his presence in.
“I’m never going to get used to how you look at me,” he mumbles, stepping inside as he looks around. “Where are Jamie and Tatum?”
I can hear the water running upstairs, and I shake my head.
“I think Tatum is taking a quick shower, and Jamie might be helping him scrub his back,” I joke. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”
Closing the door behind him, I slide the deadbolt into place before placing my hand on the small of his back to guide him. Beckham shivers slightly, and my cock twitches at how much I love that I affect him.
“What are you cooking?” he asks me as he inhales deeply. “It smells amazing.”
“Chicken and rice bowls with an avocado sauce,” I explain, pulling out a chair at the island as I pass by. “Sit down and take a load off while I work.”
“Can I help?” he asks, watching as I go back to the stove and turn on the burner to finish off the chicken.
“No, but you can tell me about what you were doing before I texted,” I reply easily.
I’m used to cooking. Jamie would burn toast if I let him, and Tatum can make three foods really well: grilled cheese, ziti, and cheesy potatoes. Outside of that, it’s probably going to be a pizza night if one of them has to cook.
“I was grading papers,” he chuckles. “It feels as if my life revolves around lesson planning and teaching.”
“Do you enjoy teaching?” I ask, scooping the chicken into a container while the rice I have going finishes.
“I enjoy watching the light bulbs go off,” he admits. “When someone asks the hard questions and they get to expand their world view, I get really excited. It means they’re less likely to be an asshole in a world that has too many of them.”
My lips twitch in amusement because he’s not wrong. I begin to sauté broccoli, mushrooms, and other vegetables while I wait for the guys, knowing the food is almost ready. I just need to make the sauce.
I create an assembly line on the counter as I begin to make the sauce, cutting up all the ingredients before throwing it in a blender.
“Sorry, it’s going to get a little loud,” I apologize, putting on the top and pushing the button.
Jamie and Tatum join us as I blend everything together. I can’t help but roll my eyes at them because Jamie’s hair is definitely wet, and his lips are puffy. I swear, they’re ridiculous.
Beckham says hello to the guys, and they both hug him as I pour the sauce into a bowl. This way, everyone can make their own food the way they like it.
“Why are your lips so swollen?” Beckham asks, touching Jamie’s lips.
“Yeah, Jameson,” I tease. “Tater Tot, did you slip in the shower and have your dick fall into his mouth?”
“Guilty as charged.” Tatum grins. “This is why we usually run late to class.”
“And you’re still this horny?” Beckham gapes at him.
“Just imagine how much worse we’d be if we didn’t let off steam,” he chuckles, heading to the cupboard to pull out dishes. “Jamie, fill up the pitcher with water please.”
“Sure,” Jamie says easily, getting to work.
I can feel Beckham watching how easily we move around each other. It’s easy to be this comfortable with people you grew up with.
“How long have you all known each other?” Beckham asks.
It reminds me that he doesn’t know much about us, and I’m proud of him for asking.
“We grew up with each other,” Tatum explains. “Our dads work together, and it’s hard for me to remember a time when we didn’t hang out. I think I’ve known Alaric since I was about six, and Jamie a little after that. We just fit together well, and our dads kind of figured we’d be inseparable.”
“They didn’t have any issues with…” Beckham trails off, and I glance at the guys.
“They don’t care that we’re gay,” I finish for him. “Our dads feel that you love who you love. No secrets, or need for cloak and dagger. We’re very lucky to have them. Let’s eat.”
Beckham thinks about that as he stands, but Tatum gently sits him back into his chair.
“I’ll get it. Do you want some of everything?” he asks.
“Ah, yes. Can I try the sauce first? I don’t like anything too spicy,” he explains.
Grabbing a spoon, I put a little on it and pass it to him. If he were Tatum or Jamie, I’d hand feed it to him. I just don’t know if he’d get offended. We’ll have to work up to that.
Fisting and being hand fed are simply different kinds of intimacy that’s difficult to explain.
Beckham’s eyes widen as he tastes the sauce, and I can tell he likes it as his scent sweetens. Jamie squeezes my arm as he fills his bowl with food, and Beckham nods.
“That’s amazing,” he praises. “You looked like you were throwing random shit into the blender. You made this without a recipe?”
“Food is easy,” I say with a grin. “It has always made sense to me. You just mix things until you’re done and it tastes right.”
“He says it’s easy, but I burn toast. He’s modest as fuck,” Jamie grumbles, snagging a chair next to Beckham.
Smirking, I shrug as I get my food together and sit across from them so there won’t be a fight. Tatum places a bowl in front of Beckham and sits snugly next to him, and we all tuck into our food.
“I think you’re not seeing how good this is,” Beckham says dryly. “I’ll let you have your modesty, but as someone who grabs too much takeout, I’m feeling very spoiled.”
Hiding a smile, I continue to eat as he asks us about our families and how we grew up.
“Jamie liked to climb trees, play football, and has broken more bones than Alaric and I put together,” Tatum says. “We all had too much energy growing up. I learned how to box, Jamie got into trouble, and Alaric—”
I raise my brow, chewing as I wait for him to finish that sentence.
“Alaric what?” Beckham asks.
“I learned how to blow shit up,” I say. “I made a bomb when I was ten, and blew up a pile of snow in the backyard. My dad wasn’t happy with me, but I thought it was the coolest thing.”
“You could have lost a finger.” Beckham hisses, looking like he wants to put me over his knee.
“We were wild growing up,” I explain. “My dad decided to put me in weapons training to keep me busy, I learned how to shoot and occasionally blow things up.”
“I know how to shoot, but that’s more out of necessity,” he says. “You seem like the one who is the most down to earth. Tatum and Jamie always seem like the wild ones.”
“Alaric grew into his leadership role,” Tatum explains. The food is rapidly disappearing, and I think a movie might be nice. Tatum usually passes out during them, which is how I get him to nap when he’s up too late.
“Someone has to keep us in line,” Jamie adds, shrugging. “Alaric is the most likely to take over whenever our dads retire. He knows the most about contacts, the businesses, and all that shit. I like to kill people when necessary, but I’d rather play football.”
“Which is why we’re enrolled with him,” Tatum says. “I’m the muscle, hacker, and enforcer. I’d rather be doing that than going to school, but life is a series of compromises for the people you love.”
Beckham is quiet as we finish up, and I have Tatum and Jamie do the dishes while I get the living room set up for a movie. I set up pillows, blankets, turn down the lights, and set the projector to play the movie along the wall.
While we have a television, I prefer this over it.
“You go hard when it comes to taking care of people, huh?” Beckham asks. Glancing up, I notice that he’s no longer wearing his shoes, and looks very at home here.
“I guess,” I say with a shrug. “I’ve been doing it for so long, it’s as easy as breathing.”
“So who takes care of you?” he asks.