Treat or…Treat
Wolfe
Figuratively speaking, that was. If any of the degenerate canines Eric allowed into their home actually dared nip at Wolfe’s mate, they would find themselves back at that godforsaken shelter faster than they could piddle on the carpet.
The mutt’s paws were filthy—clearly it had been tromping where it shouldn’t—and Wolfe snapped his fingers, then pointed in the direction of the back door. “Outside.”
The mutt gave Wolfe a forlorn look but obediently trotted away.
“You kind of have a way with dogs, did you know that?” Eric asked absently, tossing his keys onto the designated entryway table.
Wolfe rose from his chair. “I have a way with everything, pet.”
Eric grinned and gave Wolfe an entirely too brief kiss before making his way to the kitchen. Wolfe followed behind, curious as to what could be in the bags. When and if they ate human food, it was generally Wolfe who prepared it.
“I think I got enough,” Eric declared, setting the bags on the counter and rummaging inside mysteriously.
Wolfe came up behind Eric’s shoulder. “Enough what, may I ask?”
“Candy.”
“Are the two of us supposed to eat the whole lot?” Wolfe asked, eyeing the size of Eric’s offerings.
If they were, it would be a feat indeed. Eric had an occasional sweet tooth, but Wolfe decidedly did not. Unless one counted his taste for Eric’s blood and body and soul—those had sweetness no dime-store candies could hope to achieve.
“It’s for the kids.”
“Whose?”
Eric finally turned from his rummaging and gave Wolfe his full attention. It was about time. “The trick-or-treaters.”
When Wolfe only cocked a brow, Eric huffed. “Wolfe. It’s Halloween tomorrow.”
He said it as if this explained everything. Which it, in fact, did not.
“And we’re hosting the neighborhood?” Wolfe asked.
“Well, I thought—” Eric cleared his throat, fidgeting with the strap of the grocery bag. “I know we usually go to Danny’s, and we still can. After.” He said it as if Wolfe was the one dying to socialize. “But I’ve never gotten to hand out candy from my own home, you know.”
He turned away again, grabbing one of Wolfe’s exquisite carved wooden serving bowls and filling it with bite-sized candy bars. His neck and ears had gone red, as if he was somehow embarrassed by his admission.
Intriguing.
Wolfe sidled closer, his eyes on the back of Eric’s neck as his mate continued, “My parents were the kind of people that left the porch light off so we wouldn’t be bothered.
They let me trick-or-treat, but they’d make me sell my candy back to them the next day.
They acted like they were doing me a favor, but I didn’t want more allowance. I wanted my candy.”
Eric dumped another bag into the bowl, his tone even in that careful way that meant he was hiding deep hurt.
“I used to eat as much as I could while I was still out, before they could get to it, and I’d always get a stomachache.
” He sighed. “And then when I was living alone, I was always working. I’d take the Halloween shifts, since I didn’t have kids to take out or anything. Only seemed fair.”
Wolfe found himself caught in an unpleasant swirl of emotions.
There was the familiar rage at Eric’s parents.
A certain possessive fondness for the lonely man Eric had been, before Wolfe had caught him in his clutches.
And then—something else. Not regret, exactly—Wolfe would never regret taking his mate for his own—but an annoying itch under his skin nonetheless.
Because there was something in Eric’s tone, either nostalgia or wistfulness, and the fact that Wolfe couldn’t place it was galling.
“Did you want children of your own?” Wolfe asked. He’d never posed the question before, because it had never seemed necessary. Eric had been miserable and lonely, and Wolfe had fixed all that, and all the rest had seemed meaningless.
His mild tone of voice must have set the hackles up on Eric’s lovely neck, because he turned, his gaze slightly wary. “I’m not that great with kids,” he said slowly.
“But you might have had a brood, hm?” Wolfe cocked his head, studying the slight defensiveness in Eric’s posture. “If I hadn’t stolen you.”
Eric ran a hand through his hair, his gaze darting away and then back again. “It’s…feasible. Maybe. I guess it would have depended on who I ended up with.”
They stared at each other. How odd, this irritation bubbling within Wolfe, when their lives usually ran so smoothly. Eric needed, Wolfe gave. Likewise, Wolfe craved, and Eric offered.
It worked so well.
And then this.
“You need a bath,” Wolfe said abruptly.
Eric blinked, then lifted his hands. “My paws aren’t muddy.”
A joke about the filthy mutt. Wolfe didn’t laugh. “Nonetheless. Join me upstairs when you’ve finished with…” Wolfe eyed the carved bowl, the bags still waiting to be distributed. “This.”
Wolfe strode up the stairs with great dignity, ignoring Eric’s confused and wary stare. In their en suite, he drew a bath for his mate, adding the scented oils of his choosing. He then undressed down to his undershirt and underwear, not wishing for his suit to get damp.
The irritation kept nagging at him. Wolfe never wanted Eric to be lacking in what he needed, but likewise Wolfe would never share him—or his affections—with a child, even if he were capable of providing one.
Had it been longing or only nostalgia in Eric’s voice?
There’d been no real sadness through the bond, no heaving turmoil. But some regrets were subtle.
The bath was full by the time Eric joined him. Delaying their reunion, perhaps?
Although, Eric didn’t look wary anymore. His handsome face had relaxed, and he looked…fond. Almost indulgent.
Good. Wolfe was in the mood to be indulged.
“Strip.”
“Yes, sir,” Eric sassed. He began removing his clothes, neither rushing through nor delaying the process. “Will you join me?”
Wolfe considered. “After I bathe you.”
The bathing was nonnegotiable. Wolfe found himself…in need of it. In need of a ritual that allowed him to care for his mate in the way that came easiest. To remind himself exactly who possessed Eric and why.
After handing Wolfe his clothes to be folded, Eric lowered himself into the water, and Wolfe settled in behind him on the edge of the tub, his bare feet resting on the shallow lip that made their bathtub so convenient for their purposes. As Wolfe had, of course, designed it.
Eric leaned back, eyes closed. Wolfe used his preferred pitcher to wet his mate’s blond hair and began his ritual.
“This is nice,” Eric murmured after a time.
“Mm.”
“It wouldn’t be like this, you know, with the family you’re imagining.”
Wolfe frowned down at his mate but didn’t pause his ministrations.
“I’d have tried to take on the role I was raised with,” Eric continued, his eyes still shut, the picture of contentment.
“Man of the house, or whatever. The provider. I would have hated it. Working long hours at a job that made me miserable, guilty I wasn’t around more.
” He let out a long breath. “I wouldn’t have been cared for like this.
And I need it.” Eric raised a hand, clasping Wolfe’s wrist. “I need you.”
Wolfe rinsed the shampoo from Eric’s hair, then began working in conditioner. He took his time before speaking. “You’ve learned how to soothe the savage beast, hm?”
Eric opened his eyes, tilting his head back to peer up at Wolfe. “You? Savage? You iron your underwear.”
“I steam my underclothes, as I do all my garments.”
Eric laughed, bright and easy. “I love you so much. I can’t wait to see you terrify the trick-or-treaters without even trying.” He let his eyes fall closed again. “They each get two handfuls of candy, by the way.”
“Indulgent,” Wolfe chastised.
“I learned from the best.”
And that seemed to be it for Eric’s regrets. All that fuss for nothing, hm? Wolfe rinsed Eric’s hair with care. He climbed out from behind his mate.
Eric sat up quickly, twisting to track Wolfe’s movements. “Where are you going?”
There it was. The familiar neediness. A soothing balm to any leftover irritation Wolfe might have held over imagined slights.
Still.
Wolfe gave Eric an arch look, then stripped off his undershirt and underwear—which he had not ironed, no matter what his mate accused—sliding into the tub behind Eric afterward.
“You’re hard,” Eric told him, wiggling back so that Wolfe’s cock was pressed between his cheeks.
“You’re surprised?”
“I thought maybe you’d be taking me to bed.”
Wolfe could hear the pout in Eric’s voice, and he grinned into his mate’s wet hair. “I can fuck you most adequately right where we are.”
Wolfe felt the shiver run through Eric. He slid his arms around Eric’s waist, letting his hands wander to find exactly what he’d expected: Eric’s substantial erection.
“Poor, slutty creature,” Wolfe crooned, cupping the evidence of Eric’s arousal. “Even a simple bath leaves you aching for me.”
“I am aching for you,” Eric sighed. “I need to be fucked.”
He was verging on manipulation, Wolfe’s perfect, needy mate, but Wolfe couldn’t be bothered by it, not when their desires aligned so perfectly. Eric needed to be fucked and filled, and Wolfe wished to fuck and fill him.
Wolfe bit at Eric’s shoulder and pushed him forward onto his knees. Eric complied eagerly, setting his hands on the edge of the tub and lifting his perfect ass out of the water.
Wolfe rose onto his knees as well. He grabbed the lubricant hiding among the toiletries and slicked himself up. He’d taken Eric in a slow grind this morning already, and he didn’t feel like an extended seduction.
He felt like claiming his needy mate.
Wolfe rubbed a hand over Eric’s lower back, then spread his cheeks, revealing that puckered pink hole.
It was bare for him, Wolfe having waxed it himself one delicious morning.
Eric had yelped in pain even as he’d pushed back against Wolfe’s hand, his poor cock dripping over the towel Wolfe had laid.