Chapter 6
Chapter
Six
When Con woke up, he was stiff and sore, but he felt like the bullet wound was mostly healed. He loved that for him, the way shifters could heal up in their more natural form, the magic working on a wound like crazy.
He yawned hugely, going to stretch in order to test his muscles when someone bounced on his chest, and he moaned because, ow.
“Oof sorry.” Race lifted his head and stared into his eyes. “Are you okay?”
He flexed his hand, feeling just a twinge in his shoulder. There were still a few things that were a little swollen and inflamed, but the wound itself he knew was mostly gone. “Yeah, I’m not going to chop wood today but I’m pretty golden.”
Race grinned. “Good. You slept for a damn long time. I bet you need to hit the necessary.”
Connal’s bladder made itself known then. “Yeah, you’re kind of pressing down on things. You better move so I can get up and run for the bathroom.”
“You got it.” Race rolled off him in the opposite direction of the bathroom, and he hopped up and made a break for it.
He made it to the bathroom and did his thing before he washed up a little bit. Glancing at himself in the mirror, he noted he looked tired but not haggard, and his hair was kind of a mess, so he tamed that down with his hands and a little bit of water.
He grabbed his big fluffy robe and his summer robe, which would be big and fluffy on Race, and headed back into the bedroom.
“Is there food?” he asked, his voice plaintive.
“I kind of thought Nolan and Rye would bring something. I’m hoping they did. I haven’t moved.” Race’s cheeks went pink. “I didn’t want to leave you.”
That was so sweet.
If Connal hadn’t been so hungry, he would have given Race a huge kiss, but right now his belly was empty. “Let’s go down and see what we can see.”
He tossed over the robe and then headed downstairs toward the big kitchen, finding a huge tray of pastries along with a note that said, “Warm up a bowl of food from the fridge.”
His brothers were adorable.
Con glanced in the fridge, pulling out a lasagna that would work for right now, and then they could make bacon sandwiches and possibly salmon patties.
Ooh. He wondered if there was salmon — he smelled salmon.
They could have salmon patties before they had the lasagna.
“Mate? Where are you?” He needed to decide on the fish.
“I was going to the bathroom. Jeez. Did you find some good stuff?” Race came padding down the stairs, wrapped in his robe, and Con hummed. “I smell fish.”
He lifted the plate of salmon patties and nodded. “Lasagna’s in the oven, so we’ll heat these up and have bacon sandwiches later.”
That would take more effort.
He started the croquettes in the toaster oven and started a cup of coffee.
Race snatched one of the apple fritters from the pastry tray, snarfing it up like he hadn’t eaten in months.
He liked watching that. “Do you want another one?”
Race tilted his head. “How long until the salmon patties?”
He glanced over. “Five minutes?”
“I can wait for five minutes.”
He couldn’t, and oh, that blueberry donut was good.
“I bet you Nolan thought of the donuts,” he said around a mouthful of food. “Ryder never thinks of donuts, not to buy them.”
“Nolan always thinks of pastries. He loves them. I bet it was your brother who did the salmon patties, though. I don’t think Nols knows how to make them.”
“War makes the best salmon patties, so he probably cooked them, and then the guys brought them over. I don’t care.” He stuffed the rest of the doughnut into his mouth.
Race licked his lips, eyes on his mouth. “What’s your favorite thing to cook?”
Weird question. Still, it was interest from Race, and he’d take it. “I make a lot of soups, things that can go in the crock pot. I’m busy. A lot. Following around my mate, you see.”
Race stuck his tongue out at him. “Next time? You stay home. You only get the chance to get shot once, and then you’re out of the group.”
Con’s eyebrows went up. “There’s a group?”
That earned him a grin. “Well, me and the mouse in my pocket…”
“Oh. Damn. I was hoping there was like, a secret code word and a group text and shit.” Con winked, eating another doughnut in two bites. Healing took effort. He was so hungry. “Though, if you wanted a group text, there’s one with my brothers and Nolan.”
“Yeah. I know.” Race shrugged at him raised eyebrow. “What? I need to know things.”
“Yeah.” Con frowned. “I’ve never seen you post there.”
Race chuckled, the sound fond. “I don’t. I just watch.”
“Ooooh, kinky.”
“You hush.” Race poked him, cheeks going pink. Yeah, okay, Race probably wasn’t too kinky, though he would bet his mate was sensual, loving, and then cuddly after.
“I just…I have a dangerous job. I got you shot.”
“Race. Stop it. I’ve been shot at before.” He peered at the patties in the toaster oven, and they were almost done.
“Really?” Race tilted his head.
“Yeah. War and Rye and I were helping Quin with a raccoon.”
“The raccoon shot at you?”
“No, baby. We were doing a rescue. The raccoon had tried to do a little discreet robbery and got caught by a bad alpha.”
“Oops. That’s a shame. No more shooting my bear.”
“No, I’d prefer that I didn’t get shot again myself.” Connal grinned at Race, then turned around and wiggled his butt. “You like me in one piece.”
“I really do and your ass is a work of art.”
When Con glanced back over his shoulder, which made his wound pull a little bit and that was a bad idea, he could see Race looked a little stunned by his butt, in fact.
He knew it was one of his better features.
It wasn’t like he did squats or anything to get into shape.
He just did a lot of work spent crouching down, he guessed.
Maybe it was just all-natural. How did he know?
“Get the salmon patties. Do you want mustard for yours?” Race went digging in his refrigerator, and Connal liked the image.
He liked it a lot, in fact. There was something purely natural about his mate in his kitchen moving around like it was normal.
“I would.” He loved the tangy mustard on salmon patties; somehow it just worked.
He knew it was weird, because most of the time people liked creamy shit with dill on salmon but he just didn’t get that.
Maybe it was because he was so terribly American and not at all like cultured or whatever, but yellow mustard was a good thing.
They sat down at the counter in the kitchen to eat the salmon patties, squirting mustard on their plates and grinning at each other like monkeys.
Con still felt the effects of being shot, but honestly, he’d probably never been more happy in his whole life.
Race kept stealing glances at him, and each one made him buzz a little bit more, made him want to growl in pleasure.
He wasn’t up to too much in the way of acrobatics, but he could totally tank up on food and then let Race ride him like a prized bear-pony.
I could just make you feel good, too. An orgasm and you would go right back to sleep.
“Mmm yummy.” And he didn’t mean the salmon patty although that was good. “But we do have lasagna in the oven.”
“But we could just turn it off and then turn it back on when we’re ready to eat it or turn the oven way down and let it just stay warm.”
He could see that. He could accept that, in fact. Hell, Con figured he could revel in that.
He might need a couple more doughnuts though, just to carb load a little. “Let’s turn down the oven.”
Surely, he wouldn’t nap that long.
And if he did, well, he was a bear. He’d eaten out of a dumpster a few times.
Race arched an eyebrow. “Seriously? No. No, no, no. We can eat the lasagna, and then afterward I’ll give you a blow job, and you can sleep.”
His eyes went wide. “Like you’ve never eaten out of a dumpster.”
“Rescued people out of a dumpster, yes. Eaten out of a dumpster, no. I am a classy bear.”
He almost got his nose out of joint, and then he saw how Race’s dark eyes were twinkling, how the bear was barely holding his smile back.
“Yeah, yeah, we all know there’s more videos of black bears crawling out of dumpsters than there are of grizzlies.
” Connal honestly figured that was because grizzlies tended to hang out more at places like fishing camps or hunting lodges in Alaska, but that was okay.
One man’s trash was another bear’s treasure.
“Look, the lasagna hasn’t been in there that long. We can stick it back in the fridge. It won’t hurt anything.”
“Fair enough.” Con grabbed the pan out and it was pretty cold still because, well, he had to face it, it had been a frozen lasagna. He thought War tended to make them up and then stick whole pans of it in the deep freeze.
They gobbled down the rest of their salmon patties, and he inhaled a couple more doughnuts before they joined hands and headed back up the stairs.
By the time they got up there, Con’s legs were shaking, and he didn’t want to admit how tired he was. It wasn’t fair. Getting shot sucked.
Race ran a hand down his back. “I’m sorry, babe, I really am.”
“You didn’t shoot me.” He turned to pull Race into his arms as soon as they were in the bedroom, giving him a kiss that told Race, he hoped, everything he felt.
Race hummed, hands on his chest, pushing him back to the bed. He hit it with the back of his knees, so he tipped over and landed on his ass.
Con grunted, but that hadn’t really hurt; it had more made him laugh a little bit. He did love a forceful Race.
“Help me get this off.” Race tugged at his robe, so Connal raised up and let Race pull it off him.
Once he was naked, Race nudged him back against the pillows. “Let me do the work, okay?”
Con scoffed. “Like I’m gonna argue with that.”
Race gave him a bright grin. “I didn’t think you would.” He reached down to grasp Con’s cock, circling his hand around the base and tugging gently.
The move made his toes curl, and Connal lifted his hips a little, experimenting with how his body felt.
Race planted his other hand on Connal’s belly. “I told you, let me do the doing.”
“So bossy. Your hand is so hot, too. It feels really good. I love that. I love hands on dicks. It’s a really strange thing, but it’s kind of wildly good. Mouth on dicks is even weirder, because who thought of that? I don’t know who came up with that, but it’s fucking amazing.”
Race’s eyebrow arched, but he stayed calm and hyper-focused on him, letting him babble.
Con felt his cheeks heat. “Sorry, that’s not sexy is it?”
“Define sexy. I think it’s pretty adorable.” Race bent down to kiss his chin then his lips. “But now I want you to focus on the feel of my hand and what it’s doing.” Race stroked up then pushed back down and his cock hardened immediately in that firm grip.
That touch moved over his shaft, nice and steady, keeping him buzzing and focused, just like he needed to be.
Connal licked his lips and watched Race touch him. “Right, focus. That feels fucking amazing.”
Nodding, Race slid down a little more between his legs. “It’s going to make you feel even better too.”
“A-are you? I like to hear that.” His mouth went a little dry, watching Race move down his body, feeling the promises his bear was making.
“You know it, baby. I have your number now. You keep looking at my mouth, so I’m going to give it to you.” Race licked his lips again, the sound filthy in his ears, and then Race bent to kiss the tip of his cock.
Connal rocked up trying to get more of those hot lips, wanting Race to use his tongue too, but Race stopped him, just pressing another little sucking kiss right under the head.
“You’re teasing me,” he accused.
Race shook his head. “No, teasing means I don’t put out.
I guarantee you, I put out.” Then Race cupped his balls, rolling them gently in his palm.
“I just want to make you feel good. I want to make you crazy for me, Connal. I want you to rest after this, too, so I want you to come hard enough to put you to sleep.”
He heard himself laugh out loud. “You could just tranq me.”
“Yeah, except this is way more fun.”
When Race did drop those lips over his cock and slide down as far as he could, Con shouted, bringing up his good hand to bury it in Race’s hair.
He had been waiting for this forever, he thought. Maybe longer. It was absolutely unbearable, the urge to just hump up and up and take Race’s mouth.
Take whatever you want, Race told him. I’m ready. You’re not gonna hurt me.
You’re right. I’m not. I’m going to let you take this at your pace as well. I’m not gonna choke you out.
Those dark eyes flashed up to meet his. You have a great opinion of your attributes, don’t you?
I do. I have a nice, fat, thick cock, and you make me hungry.
You don’t mean for lasagna either, do you? Race went all the way down as far as he could this time, his lips meeting his hand. The motion made Connal’s toes curl and made his belly clench tight.
He was soaring, his growl caught deep in his belly, his eyes crossed. Race’s mouth was perfection, but more than that, the sheer pleasure of his bear’s hunger flowed into him, making his ball sac draw up.
He grunted when Race sucked him deep, swallowing against the head of his cock, and that was all he could take. He came like a ton of bricks, just like Race wanted him to.
Connal panted as he shot, his body rocking with spasms as he filled Race’s mouth.
Then he melted down into the sheets.
“Feel better?” Race snuggled in, cleaning his lips with that sweet tongue before pulling the blankets up over them. “Nap, and we’ll have lasagna after.”
“You’ll be here?” He didn’t want to sound so whiny, but he worried.
“Where am I supposed to go?” Race tweaked one of his nipples gently. “Silly Bear. I’m right here.”
He hoped so. He was Race’s, balls to bones.