“So says the grown man that can’t even keep a sprig of cat-grass alive? Jesus Reed, I feel sorry for those fish you claim to clean every morning.”
Oliver spread his hands and shrugged. “I didn’t even know it was cat-grass until you pointed it out. As for the fish…well…dead guppies tell no tales.”
“I should lock you up for herbaceous neglect.”
“That’s not a real offence.”
Reaching across the countertop, he ran his finger over the dead plant, frowning at its crispy leaves. He really was terrible at keeping things alive. The next thing he knew, searing pain lanced across his forearm, the steam from the kettle burning his skin.
“Ouch!” He yelped, cradling it against his body.
Lucas was at his side in an instant, tugging at his wrist to pull the injured limb into view. The skin was angry and red, the thin sheen of a blister already forming. “Run it under cold water, unless you want the blister to balloon,” Lucas said, guiding him over to the sink.
“I-It’s fine… it’ll be fine.”
“Reed, for once in your life, will you do as I ask?”
Turning on the tap, Lucas gripped his wrist and held it under the ice cold water. He flinched, his back thumping into the alpha’s broad chest.
“The water hurts more than the burn!” he whined, trying to pull his arm away.
“It’ll stop in a minute. Just stay still,” Lucas replied, one hand holding Oliver’s arm, the other on his hip.
Their bodies pressed together, and Oliver could feel every hard line of the alpha’s stomach, the swell of his pecs, the strength in his arms as they trapped him against the countertop. He swallowed, trying to keep his breath steady as he stared out the kitchen window.
He wanted to focus on the pinpricks of light in the distance, but their reflection in the glass made it impossible to focus on anything else. He looked small, nestled against the alpha’s chest. A shock of white-blonde hair contrasted against Lucas’ black shirt and dark skin.
Warmth crept up his neck as the alpha’s fingers pressed into the back of his hand, his thumb brushing over the tendons of his wrist. It shouldn’t have been erotic, but it was. It shouldn’t have been a turn-on, but Oliver’s cock was very much rising to the occasion.
“You smell like whiskey,” Oliver whispered, licking his lower lip.
Lucas pressed the tip of his nose into his hair, breath hot on his scalp. The hand at his hip trailed up his body, fingers grazing along the tendons of his throat as he tipped his head back. Oliver looked up at the alpha, his eyes wide and unintentionally doe-like.
“And you smell like the earth just before a lightning strike,” Lucas whispered, “When the atmosphere holds its breath for the coming storm.” His voice was low and slow, like the draw of a bow across a bass note. Oliver’s nipples pebbled at the sound of that voice, the cotton of his t-shirt suddenly irritating his skin. He inadvertently pressed his hips back, a tiny whimper escaping his mouth as the hard line of the alpha’s cock pressed across the top of his arse.
A rumble emanated from Lucas’ chest, sending ripples of pleasure up his spine. The alpha dragged his mouth along the curve of Oliver’s ear, his tongue drawing a searing line to the sharp angle of his jaw. Oliver’s mouth hung open as the alpha’s scent enveloped him—want, need, possession sinking into every pore.
Oliver’s legs trembled as he gripped the worktop, completely forgetting the pain in his arm. Lucas practically purred as he placed a string of featherlight kisses along his hairline, then across the freckles peppering his cheeks and nose.
“Are you—going to tell—the Inspector—about all these—kisses?” Oliver stuttered, every word threatening to turn into a moan.
He felt the alpha smile against his cheek. “We’re off duty. I think these kisses are allowed.”
“Oh,” was all Oliver could say as he nibbled his lower lip.
“Don’t suck your lip or I’ll be tempted to bite it,” Lucas whispered, gently snapping his teeth.
Oliver yanked his hand away from the tap, his dripping wet fingers sliding up the arm that held his throat. He neededsomething to hold on to because his traitorous legs were about to give way any second.
Lucas growled, pushing Oliver’s t-shirt up to splay wet fingers over his stomach, making it dip and tense as droplets of water trickled down the slight swell of his abdomen. The alpha’s knuckles dragged a slow circle around his navel, tracing a line to the waistband of his pyjamas.
“Can I touch you, Reed?” He said, teasing a finger under the elastic. “I want to hear that dirty mouth as you lose yourself.”
Oliver whined, his brows pinching together as the haze of lust blanketed his senses. Despite all the touching, all the flirting and the teasing, Oliver knew deep down that the alpha didn’t want him. But as the thrill of desire crawled up his legs and pooled in his belly, the fear of rejection was slowly ebbing away. Perhaps it was the alcohol making him bold, but in that moment he wanted to be touched more than anything. To feel wanted, even if it was just for a moment.
So, against his better judgement, he whispered, “Yes.”
Lucas’ hand slipped into his pyjamas, running his fingers along the hard length of his arousal. Oliver tipped his head back, fully exposing the expanse of his throat to the alpha, who growled low in his belly. His teeth grazed the scent gland under Oliver’s ear as he pinched the front of his pyjamas, pulling them down just enough for his erection to spring free. It was obvious and attentive.
