Chapter 36 #2
They both turned to look at Arden with eyebrows raised.
Arden frowned back at them.
“Something wrong?” Jack asked.
“That wasn’t romantic at all. Do it again. Softer, this time.” When they both stared at him, he added, “Please.”
Jack turned to Beckett. Beckett turned to Jack.
Leaning in, Jack laid his mouth gently to Beckett’s smile. He exerted a whisper of pressure, a mere nudge of his lips to Beckett’s, and lifted away. He caught a flash of something almost startled in Beckett’s eyes.
Oh, Jack thought.
Beckett glanced away. “How was that?” he asked Arden.
“Lovely.”
Jack couldn’t help but laugh out loud at his sincerity. He pulled Beckett close again, and said against his mouth, “Shall we show him how we usually do it?”
“Mm-hmm.” Beckett nipped at Jack’s bottom lip.
Jack set aside the teasing, he set aside the gentleness, and he showed Arden how he kissed their alpha lover.
It was a deep, harsh, tangled thing; a battle for dominance and a challenge for more.
He wound one arm around Beckett’s waist and the other around his shoulders, making Beckett growl and shove forward into it, taking hold of Jack just as firmly. Their tongues slid together, wet and demanding. Jack moved to grip Beckett’s hair, pulling the neat tie loose and holding him in place.
When he tore away, Beckett was panting as loudly as Jack was. “I can taste him on you,” he said to Jack, his voice rough. He ignored the controlling hand in his hair to lean in for a lewd lick over Jack’s fierce smile and deep into his mouth.
They were pressed together chest to chest, forehead to forehead, holding each other tightly. A small noise came from beside them. At Arden’s odd sigh, they turned in unison to look at him.
His face was bright red and his shoulders were curled forwards. He squirmed on the spot.
“How about that one?” Beckett said. “Lovely?”
“N-no.” Arden couldn’t return his gaze, or Jack’s.
“You like it, though?”
Before Beckett had even finished talking, Arden was nodding furiously, drifting closer. “It was very arou—”
A light knock at the door preceded the appearance of Magda with the laden supper tray.
Arden sprang away as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. Beckett moved out of Jack’s arms, but he did it easily and without hurry.
Magda carried the tray sedately over to a small table. Jack watched with amusement as Beckett dropped into his chair again and Arden was the one to dart over and have his hands gently pushed away when he tried to help set out the supper things.
Jack sat in the chair opposite Beckett’s.
Magda took plates and cups from the tray and laid them on the small table.
She very carefully did not look over at where Jack and Beckett sprawled by the fire, but she did shoot a somewhat worried glance at Arden as he fussed about with the delicate porcelain sugar bowl.
Arden looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back and touched his sleeve as she leaned in and murmured something. Arden’s smile didn’t dim. He nodded, she curtsied, and they were left alone once more.
Arden busied himself with the teapot, pouring out two cups. To Jack’s, he added the merest splash of milk. He added three times as much to Beckett’s, and two heaped teaspoons of sugar besides.
Jack stretched his legs out in front of him and laced his hands over his stomach. He was curious as to what Arden would do when he—ah. There it was.
Arden frowned down at the two cups he’d prepared. With one in each hand, he turned to face them. His eyes went from Jack to Beckett.
Who to serve first?
Jack had no doubt that if he could, he’d have served them both at the same time.
But he couldn’t.
His arms weren’t that long.
He crossed the room towards them, slowing his pace as he came closer, gaze bouncing between the chairs either side of the hearth. If he thought about it any harder, Jack mused, you’d be able to hear it.
He already knew the choice Arden would make here. Beckett didn’t even realise he was trying to make a choice. And Arden, sweet Arden, was trying to slow his steps even further.
Did he give it to Jack, the oldest person in the room? The highest ranked?
Or to Beckett, to signal that Arden considered him to be on an equal footing with his husband the duke, rank and wealth be damned?
And would Beckett like it if Arden did that? Would he expect it? Or would he be offended and patronised by it?
But if he gave it to Beckett, would Jack think he was more interested in the man who took his virginity than in the man who’d given him his name?
Beckett wasn’t having any of it, of course.
“What are you dithering about like that for?” he said.
“Ah, I. Um.”
Beckett made a commanding gesture with his fingers, curling them at Arden, who responded beautifully. Beckett reached out and took his cup of tea, staring hotly at Arden the whole time.
When Arden turned to Jack, he looked positively faint. The cup he held out at a precise, elegant angle, trembled in the saucer. Audibly. He scowled.
“Thank you, darling,” Jack said, taking the cup.
“Would you care for some anything to eat?”
“Yes,” Beckett said from behind him. “I’m starving.”
Arden glanced over his shoulder, eyes widening. “You ate an entire pie at dinner.”
Beckett pursed his lips and blew noisily on his tea before shrugging and saying, “Yeah, but now I know I’ve got a busy night ahead, so. Thinkin’ I need more fuel for the fire.”
Arden’s pink cheeks once again flared to a deep rose. He was mortified and delighted all at once. He said to Jack, “Are…? Are you also in need of fuel?”
“I suspect I am in need of two pies,” he said.
“Oh. There is only bread and butter, and some scones. Shall I call for—why are you laughing?”
Jack leaned forward to scoop Arden closer, an arm around his thighs to tug him between Jack’s as Jack held his teacup out to the side to save from spilling it.
Arden threaded his fingers through the side of Jack’s hair and smiled down at him. “Did I say something foolish?” he asked.
“No.” Jack leaned in to kiss the centre of his chest. The linen of his shirt was warm beneath Jack’s lips. “I love you, that is all. Ow.”
Arden’s fingers had clenched in his hair. “Sorry,” he said.
Beckett set his teacup on the small table beside his chair and got to his feet.
“Come on over here with me,” he said, “or you’ll have us dithering all night.
I’ve got you.” He plucked Arden off his feet, making him squawk again—and pull Jack’s hair again—and sat back down, dragging Arden onto his lap.
Arden went from rigid to boneless to rigid again, his body all but jerking with awkwardness as his sense of propriety warred with his instincts to soften and surrender.
“Stop your thrashing,” Beckett said, juggling him about.
“I am not thrashing, you are manhandling—”
“Save it for the bedroom, you’ll be thrashing all over the place—”
“Beckett, you—”
“There. Comfy?”
“…yes. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Your Grace.” He tweaked Arden’s nose.
Arden was sideways on his lap, his head on Beckett’s shoulder, russet curls dishevelled and face still pink. His eyes, though—so bright. So happy. He was pretending to be outraged and cross but Jack could tell that he loved it. Being ‘manhandled’ by Beckett. Being told what to do.
Arden was a gentle man who had spent a lifetime trying and failing miserably to please those around him.
He’d poured himself out, and no one had ever even noticed.
He was made for an alpha like Beckett. Like Jack. For men who wanted nothing more than to cherish him. And yes, to command him. To push him. To have him yield.
To reward him for it, over and over, until satisfaction had lit up every dark corner of him.
The quizzical lift of Beckett’s brows stopped his fanciful musings and brought him back to the moment.
“Oh, but shouldn’t I get Jack something to eat?” Arden was saying.
“No.” Beckett snagged his teacup by the handle, leaving the saucer behind, to Arden’s clear disapproval, and drained it in one gulp.
He pressed it into Arden’s hands. “You pour me another cuppa, Jack’ll go on down to the kitchen and get himself properly fed because bread and butter ain’t going to cut it, and then we’ll take you to bed. All right?”
“Yes,” Arden said breathlessly. “All right. I mean. Please.”
Beckett tapped his lips with a finger. Arden leaned up and popped a playful buss right there, then beamed at Jack.
Gods.