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Jay wanted to rub against those arms like a cat. His beastie did too. But that would be weird, right? Humans didn’t rub up against other humans they barely knew. So no rubbing.
What was Alexei hoping to accomplish even? Slow seduction via increasingly complicated coffee orders?
He should always be here, Alexei thought dreamily, listening to the strangely erotic sounds of Jay’s greedy gulping. In my arms.
Jay’s hungry little noises, the warmth of his small body, the ache of Alexei’s erection straining against his zipper. He felt gratified that the vampire was hard as well, grinding himself against Alexei’s bulge, seemingly unconsciously.
Jay finally pulled back, his fangs sliding out of Alexei’s skin. But it didn’t do much to lessen the arousal when Jay started licking gently at Alexei’s neck. He really was a kitten.
“You’re dating someone?” Danny finally asked, reaching a hand out to grab Roman’s arm for some reason. Jay cocked his head, considering. “Well, I’m not sure if it’s dating, exactly. I’m biting him, and he’s teaching me about sex and also some cooking. Or maybe baking?”
Danny gave a strangled cough. “He— I’m sorry, what? I could have taught you that, if you wanted.” At Roman’s, “Not fucking likely,” Danny clarified, “The baking. I could teach you the baking. I’ve gotten pretty good at it.”
But Jay was already gasping in delight. “It’s so pretty!” “You think so?” “Mm. What a beautiful little cupcake you are.” Jay directed his words into the box. At the actual cupcake. And now Alexei was jealous of a baked good.
And yes, his “beastie” was on high alert, but its focus was—as Alexei’s had been from the very first moment in the café—zeroed in on Jay. On his scent (which, now that Alexei had turned, he could tell had a strange metallic edge under the peppermint); on his mood (an intoxicating blend of nerves, anger, and residual lust); on trying to figure out the quickest viable way to be touching him again (skin on skin, cock to cock, filling him up and making him keen). Its mantra at all times was to touch Jay, taste Jay, claim Jay, love Jay.
“Jay’s love language is words of affirmation.” Jay nodded solemnly. “And also all the other ones.”
He was constantly tucking himself under Alexei’s arm, or throwing himself onto Alexei’s back. When they were alone at home, he would jump onto his tiptoes, wrap his arms around Alexei’s neck, and insist on being carried around the house.
He reveled in Jay’s need for him, in their constant physical contact. His beast…hungered…always, for Jay.
Jay had become more comfortable in asking for what he’d started calling “loving time,” in which he laid back and let Alexei worship his body, take him apart piece by piece while telling him all the while how perfect, how gorgeous, how good he was. It was Alexei’s favorite fucking pastime.
Meanwhile, Alexei could feel his inner beast perking up in interest at the potential for violence. The greedy thing was usually content enough, as long as they were near their mate (touching their mate, tasting their mate, fucking their mate), but it clearly wouldn’t mind reveling in a little bloodshed now and then.
“Well, I think we should be naked,” he declared, almost immediately. “How shocking,” Alexei murmured dryly, obliging Jay’s silent request and kissing the other side of his elongated neck. It was anything but surprising. Jay couldn’t get enough of what he liked to deem “cozy nudity.”
Oh! Oh!” Jay tugged at Alexei’s shirt. “I could draw you naked. I haven’t done that yet. It’ll be just like that scene in Titanic where Jack sketches Rose but without all the tragedy afterward.” Jesus. Titanic. Which was now on the forbidden list of movies, ever since it had made Jay cry for what felt like hours afterward. If Alexei could murder a movie, he’d murder that one.
