The warmth from the fire was nothing compared to the heat radiating from Blake’s body, and it was taking all of Pember’s self-restraint not to coil himself around him like a giant body pillow.
The tips of his fingers traced the crinkles in Blake’s T-shirt, following the lines of his body until they came to rest in the dip of his navel.
“Why don’t you shift?” Blake whispered, circling the tip of a finger across Pember’s hip.
Pember wet his lips, turning his face into the crook of Blake’s neck. His eyes were growing heavy, but he didn’t want to fall asleep yet.
Inhaling, he said, “Because of my mum.”
“She didn’t let you?”
Pember swallowed, pressing his lips into a tight line. “No. When she was a teenager, her parents put her on lupine blockers.”
Blake let out a breath, pulling Pember tighter against his chest. “They’reextremelyillegal.”
“I know. She was a ballet dancer. According to her, everyone on the circuit was doing them. They dulled the wolf part of people’s brains, making them more focused and less impulse driven. It meant dancers had greater control, letting them focus on the technical movements. Everyone was at it back in the eighties—surgeons, pilots, engineers. Shocking, right?”
“And it affected her ability to shift long-term?”
“Yes. Dad used to take me and Immy out when he could, but then he died and that was the end of it. I shifted a few times during uni, but she smelled it on me and made my life hell.”
His wolf whimpered inside him, and Pember’s fingers twitched as though running them through it’s fur. Blake remained silent, save for his steady breaths warming Pember’s hair.
“Who won Monopoly, by the way?” Pember said, voice sounding far away, even to his own ears.
Blake sighed. “Hard to say. I’m not sure Val quite understood the rules. She kept buying properties on Mayfair, even though she had no money.”
Pember grinned against his neck. “Were you the dealer?”
“Technically. But we all know it was Cherry controlling the cash.”
“You should have given her the money to support her lavish lifestyle.”
Blake chuckled. “I would have, if the bird didn’t keep stealing it. She’s made a nest on top of the kitchen cupboard.” His fingers brushed idly over the curve of Pember’s ear.
The glow of the fire illuminated the cords in Blake’s neck, the jut of his Adam’s apple, the slight angle of his nose. The scent of him so close, the heat of his body… It was making Pember dizzy again, and without even thinking he leaned in and brushed his lips across the delicate skin of Blake’s collarbone.
“Next time you’re the dealer,” he whispered, closing his eyes, “you should wear a top hat and monocle. Cane in one hand, George in the other. Lord of the corgis.”
A sound rumbled in Blake’s chest, and Pember nuzzled into the angle of his jaw.
“You think so?” Blake whispered.
“Yeah.”
Blake shifted, the sofa dipping as he pulled their bodies together. He wrapped Pember in his arms, cradling his head against his chest. Pember’s palm drifted along his side, fingertips mapping out each taut line, every oblique, every lean strip of serratus muscle covering his ribcage.
Blake mirrored his movements, hand gliding along the narrow curve of Pember’s hip to push the silky blue shirt over his midriff. His fingers lingered over the bare skin of his waist, the pad of his thumb drawing shapes across his ribs.
Pember wriggled, biting his lip as he pressed his face further into Blake’s neck.
“Ticklish?” Blake murmured.
“A little.”
Blake drew Pember’s chin up, the amber glow of the fire reflecting in each other’s eyes.
They stayed like that for several moments—noses touching, each breathing the other in. Pember felt like he might drown under the intensity of Blake’s gaze, his mismatched eyes looking at him like he was the most precious thing in the world.
