Tending to Eric #2
It took a little while for Eric to really give in and get comfortable, placing his cheek on Wolfe’s thigh, pressing his nose into the thatch of hair at Wolfe’s groin.
But minute by minute, as Wolfe perused his book—he didn’t always go for fiction, but he found the occasional spy novel entertaining—Eric relaxed, the unhappy fog that had been clouding their bond finally dissipating.
“That’s good, pet,” Wolfe praised, stroking Eric’s blond strands. “That’s perfect.”
Eric blinked up at him, his eyes half-closed and hazy.
They spent a long time just like that, Wolfe’s cock slowly softening as he focused on his book, absent-mindedly murmuring Eric’s praises now and then.
It was Eric who broke the spell eventually. He couldn’t help it, the poor slutty thing. It started with a mild amount of squirming, then an absent-minded humming as he began sucking ever so gently.
As Wolfe hardened again—he wasn’t made of stone, and his mate’s mouth was divine—Eric’s efforts took on a more deliberate cast.
Wolfe tugged gently at Eric’s hair. “Need something, darling?”
Eric turned his head as best he could in Wolfe’s hold, peering up at Wolfe with beseeching eyes. He was a sight like that—mouth full, eyes glassy, no doubt sporting an impressive erection in his hideous track pants. Wolfe pressed down with his foot, just to be sure.
Eric moaned around Wolfe’s cock. Hard as rock, just as Wolfe had thought.
“My needy slut,” Wolfe crooned, overwhelmed with affection. “Do you want to get me off now?”
Eric nodded, hollowing his cheeks and sucking tightly around Wolfe’s cock, his tongue teasing at the head. Wolfe hissed at the new intensity of sensation, then set his book down, leaning back against the couch, stroking Eric’s hair. “Have at it, pet.”
Eric did. His rhythm was inconsistent—sloppy and desperate one moment, lazy and unhurried the next. Like he was torn between his own building arousal and the hint of subspace he’d found warming Wolfe’s cock.
Wolfe let him do as he would, tugging at his hair now and then, hissing his pleasure at the way Eric’s hands gripped his thighs hard enough to hurt.
“Do you want to touch yourself?” he asked at one point.
Eric made a negative noise, bobbing up and down lazily.
So Wolfe let it be, focusing on his mate’s perfect mouth, letting his own arousal build steadily until his balls were high and tight and his spine liquid.
“I’m going to fill your mouth, darling,” he warned.
“And you’re going to swallow every drop like the perfect thing you are. ”
Eric made an affirmative noise this time, sucking harder.
Hungry for it.
Wolfe’s back arched against the couch, his release flooding Eric’s mouth as promised. His mate swallowed perfectly. Of course he did.
Wolfe tugged Eric immediately up off the floor and into his lap, pushing his track pants down and freeing Eric’s erection. The poor thing was leaking like a faucet. Wolfe gripped the silken length and tugged steadily, pleased when Eric tucked his head into Wolfe’s neck, gasping.
“You can bite,” Wolfe told him fondly, thumbing at the head of Eric’s cock.
Fangs immediately sliced into Wolfe’s neck, the greedy sounds of Eric’s gulping layering over the messy sound of Wolfe jerking him off. Wolfe’s beast preened at their mate drinking from them. He’d be full of their cum and their blood. As he should be always.
It wasn’t long before Eric groaned like a dying man, his release coating Wolfe’s fist.
“There you are,” Wolfe murmured, stroking Eric’s back with his free hand.
Eric slumped against Wolfe’s shoulder, turning his head, his mouth slack. Wolfe presented his hand, humming his pleasure when Eric licked his own cum up obediently.
Perfect, perfect, perfect.
“Feel better?” Wolfe asked after a moment, already knowing the answer.
Eric let out a heavy sigh, but it was more cathartic than desponding. “Yeah. Lots better.”
Wolfe pressed a kiss to his head. “Good. No conversations with that woman for at least a month.”
“Make it two.”
Wolfe grinned. He loved when his mate was vindictive.
He continued petting Eric, knowing he needed as much touch as possible. “Do you wish to look at research postings tomorrow?”
“Not yet,” Eric murmured. “I’m not really ready. I just got in my head a bit.”
It was a long time later when Wolfe spoke again. “Johann foisted a cinnamon roll recipe on me. Should we try it?”
Eric leaned back to look at him, his brows raised in surprise. “Really? You’d bake with me?”
“I don’t see why not,” Wolfe said lightly.
It should have been distasteful, really, to be so at one person’s mercy. But it wasn’t. How could it be? This was the other half of Wolfe’s soul. His perfect match.
What wouldn’t he do when it came to his mate? He’d yet to find the limit.
Wolfe had doubts he ever would.
“Come, beloved.” He tugged Eric off the couch, righting Eric’s track pants before adjusting his own robe. “Let’s fill you up with sugar. It will go well with my cum.”
“You’re unhinged,” Eric said, not for the first time. It might have been offensive, if not for the love pulsing through their bond.
Perfect.
Eric
Eric hummed happily, digging into his third cinnamon roll of the night.
They were a little burned at the bottom—Wolfe had been adorably horrified at the error—but they were still delicious.
Plus, Wolfe’s eye twitched whenever Eric licked the frosting a certain way, so that was fun.
“Haven’t you had enough of my mouth?” Eric teased.
Wolfe traced Eric’s lower lip with his thumb, removing a drop of frosting. He brought it to his own mouth. “As if I could ever get enough of that.”
Eric grinned at him. He was feeling much…looser, after their time in the den. Not so tightly wound, not so much in his own head.
He never should have let his mom get in his head in the first place, but old habits died hard, didn’t they?
And while normally Eric liked hearing Gabe’s stories from the hospital, tonight it had just served as a reminder that Eric had chosen to leave behind the one thing he was good at.
The one thing that had made his parents anywhere close to proud of him. He’d had his reasons, but still.
He should have known Wolfe wouldn’t stand for it.
And it had been just what Eric had needed. That closeness. That submission. He’d been able to go to a soft, fuzzy place, one where only Wolfe existed—the weight of him on Eric’s tongue, the scent of him in Eric’s nose, the sound of his voice telling Eric how good and perfect he was.
In reality, Eric’s life had become about more than just Wolfe—he had actual friends now, and his book club, and his regular runs with Gabe.
But it was a nice reminder. That even if all Eric ever wanted to do was stay by Wolfe’s side, that would be enough.
He would be enough.
Eric finished his pastry, licking the excess frosting off his fingers with gusto.
Wolfe huffed a sigh and went to the sink, wetting a towel and bringing it over, cleaning Eric’s fingers thoroughly. “You’ll get the bed sticky,” he scolded.
“Says the one who fucks me into that mattress on the regular. Bare, I might add.”
Wolfe’s lips twitched. “That’s different.”
Eric laughed. He was still kind of in that fuzzy, happy place. “I love you so, so much,” he found himself saying.
“I know,” Wolfe told him, smug as hell. He set the towel down. “Come, beloved. I’ll let you choose a film.”
Eric perked up. He loved when Wolfe let him choose the movie. “And we’ll cuddle?”
Wolfe tsked. “Do you even have to ask?”
Eric laughed again. He really didn’t. They always cuddled.
He let Wolfe lead him to their bedroom, let Wolfe tuck him under the covers like a child before bringing Eric’s laptop into the bed with them. Wolfe refused to have a TV in the bedroom, because he was a ridiculous snob.
Eric snuggled into him. He felt light. He felt…golden.
Life was good, wasn’t it?
Perfect, even.