Officer Carey, the police officer who spoke with Dylan when they first returned to Portsmouth what seemed like a lifetime ago, was the first person he thought of upon receiving the news that his wife had been the cause of everything. Carey had said that most abductions were performed by people the child knew. Dylan really hadn’t been able to think of anyone at the time and why should he have? His life wasn’t so bad, when you got right down to it.

He never thought that Arden, the person Hunter knew better than anyone else, would be the one. It was unthinkable.

And unfortunately, it was reality. The police had taken Hunter’s school laptop into custody as evidence, intending to trace the IP address associated with the email that had been used to send the ransom message. Unfortunately, the email was untraceable, a thing easily done in this day and age with a little research. Fortunately, there were ways of getting around this limitation that took only a bit of time because nothing on a computer is ever really secure no matter how many precautions have been taken.

They quickly found someone who could trace the untraceable and discovered that the ransom email had been sent from a computer very nearby. In the same home, in fact. Arden had sent it.

After this discovery, she was taken in for questioning, and her computer was taken away. Everything soon came to light through a combination of investigation and aggressive interrogation tactics.

She grew tired of taking care of Hunter, of dealing with anything that had to do with him. She wanted him gone for a variety of reasons which the police documented with ruthless efficiency, but Dylan knew the real truth, the one reason that was never spoken aloud. Arden knew that the child was Ryan’s and she hated it, couldn’t stand to see the reminder of the other person in her home day in and day out. It was proof that her relationship was a lie, that the only man who would ever deign to be her mate was one with a secret to hide.

Rather than think through this logically and relinquish custody to Dylan, possibly ruining her appearance as a strong, loving working mother, she devised a plan. It was a very long and convoluted plan with many steps, because nothing Arden ever did could be considered simple. She thought it would be easier to cover her tracks if there were more elements, but she was wrong, instead creating a weak chain of events where one link could give in and bring the rest crashing down.

Reclaimed internet history and detailed email messages laid out the plan in startling clarity. There were desperate people in the world willing to capitalize on dark deeds, some of whom had no qualms about kidnapping a child. Arden hired as many of these people as she could and set up a map of handoffs where Hunter would be exchanged from one team to another. These shapeshifters had never met before and were not to have any prior knowledge of the previous team’s efforts, such as where they had been, and they weren’t to know what the next team would do with Hunter. They were given their task, a time and location, and that was all.

None of the shifters were professionals. That was one of Arden’s many mistakes, not taking the time to search for quality criminals. She was hasty, acting on a perceived need to get this over as soon as possible. There was also the fact that the shifters had no familiarity with one another, which made the transitions difficult.

The ultimate goal really was to drop Hunter off at a Mexican orphanage, deep in the middle of a country that Arden perceived as being somehow desolate. She admitted that she thought Hunter would never be found once he was dropped off.

There was never meant to be a ransom. Arden put up the proper front, going around as if to raise the money, but she sent it to her hired kidnappers as the rest of their payment.

This sort of thinking baffled Dylan, but the whole thing was so bafflingly convoluted and the only answers Arden could ever give was that it seemed like the right thing to do. He wanted to confront her in her cell where she couldn’t evade his questions, to demand what part of stranding their child was right. Ryan advised against this. His reasoning involved some sort of legal jargon, but Dylan was pretty sure the real reason was that Ryan wanted him to begin moving past this. If he visited Arden, she would only bog him down in the same place.

Naturally, the police had doubts about all of this when they first made the discovery, but the last of those doubts were chased away when they asked her to spell the word “delivered.” She misspelled it exactly as it was misspelled in the ransom email. Dylan hadn’t known his ex-wife to be bad at spelling, but it just went to show that no one really knew everything about the people in their life.

There were many small hints like that such as the whole bit when Hunter had mistakenly overheard that he was going to go on a trip of sorts. And he had indeed, but in a way that no one ever would have suspected.

But learning all that came after the whole business at the forest. Days after, in fact. First was the hospital visit.

It was very difficult for shapeshifter to go unnoticed in a world run by humans, preserving the secrecy of their existence. To this end, other shapeshifters watched out for each other.

A shifter cop called ahead to the hospital and arranged for only doctors in the know to treat Dylan, Ryan, and Hunter. Nurses tended to be none the wiser, simply going about their tasks of recording and caring for the patient. Technicians and doctors were those who would really become suspicious upon discovering something that didn’t match with what they had been trained for.

All three of them had whiplash in varying degrees of severity, which only time and aspirin would take care of.

Ryan had sustained deep lacerations from his battle with the black bear in the back of the convenience store. These needed a few stitches to keep them from reopening, but his shapeshifter healing abilities would take care of them soon enough. His ribs were also lightly bruised, but again, the doctor could only prescribe aspirin for that.

Dylan himself was worse off, requiring many more stitches for the deep wounds he’d sustained in his own fight. Great big patches of his skin had been ripped away, leaving raw, shallow wounds across his back, stomach, and arms. He might end up with a few scars but it was a rare person in the world who went through life completely unscathed.

Nothing could be done for his ear. Not even the superior healing prowess of a wolf could regrow the missing part of an ear. His hearing was unaffected and Ryan reassured him that the lopsided look was rather flattering.

In many ways, Hunter was the worst off. Dylan staunchly refused treatment until his son had been examined and taken care of. And even afterwards, he looked right into the doctor’s eyes and said, “What else can you do?”

The doctor looked right back at him and said, “Nothing. It’s in his hands now.”

But Dylan couldn’t believe it. His nerves were stretched to the absolute limit and they snapped in that moment. He yelled. He waved his arms in the air. He scowled and snarled. None of this had any effect on the doctor, who just folded his arms and waited.

When at last Dylan fell silent, panting, the doctor straightened up. “You’re lucky your son is out cold and can’t hear his father acting like this. He’s going to need you to be strong for him. This little boy has been through hell.”

He’s right.

It was the same thing Ryan had been saying all along.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

The doctor surprised him by reaching out one hand and gripping his shoulder for a moment, as if to offer comfort. “Don’t be. You’ve also been through hell. I’ll leave you alone for a moment. Once I come back, no more resisting your own treatment.”

The doctor left the room. Dylan grabbed a chair immediately and sat down at his son’s bedside. He looked down at Hunter and held one of his small hands between both of his own. His skin was cool and chapped.

Hunter had no physical injuries, but he had been drugged constantly throughout the entire journey, dosed over and over much too frequently by people who had no idea what they were doing. His small body struggled to bear the load of all the drugs forced upon him, some of which were reacting with others to worsen the effects. He was stable, but he was very weak, and only time would see the drugs fully cleared from his system.

They stayed there in the hospital in a city near Sylacauga for a full week, the name of which escaped Dylan because he simply just didn’t care. There were just too many other things that occupied his thoughts. During this time, all of them were interviewed by the local police, and given all the information they could ever want.

After that, they were released and allowed to head back home where an endless number of subsequent interviews awaited them. Hunter was stable by that point and was beginning to develop an appetite again, though he still suffered from bouts of dizziness and nausea. He didn’t speak or play, often staring off into the distance for long periods of time.

“Perfectly normal,” a psychologist at the hospital informed Dylan.

Fuck you, he thought. He was so angry so often this past week. Everything annoyed him. This same psychologist had listened to his concerns and informed him that it was nothing more than a sort of cabin fever; Dylan thought this was the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. His aggravation was more than just the current situation.

But he didn’t say anything.

“With love, encouragement, and empowerment, he will soon be back to himself again. Children bounce back very quickly from these sorts of things. Upon returning to Portsmouth, I suggest contacting a child psychologist who will help you decide the best course of action.”

Dylan had already planned to do just that. He didn’t need someone else to tell him how to be a parent.

Hunter spent most of the drive sleeping. Dylan and Ryan only sat together in silence. They hadn’t spoken much at all in the past week, and the distance between them was as wide as a chasm.

Upon arriving back in Portsmouth, the interviews began again and they all told their stories once more. Several times more. It seemed as if they were going to spend the rest of their lives repeating themselves.

Then, suddenly, it was over.

One day, Dylan woke up and there were no messages on his phone, no voicemails asking that he come back down to the station. There was only the silence of his apartment, the soft whimpering breaths of Hunter sleeping at his side. He had been given temporary, full custody of his son while Arden waited in prison for her upcoming trial date far in the future.

The aftermath had begun and he looked up at the ceiling, realizing that he had no idea what to do or how to begin.

I guess I need to start finding a psychologist. I don’t know what to do. Do I pretend like everything’s normal even though he knows it isn’t? Or do I pull him out of school to just give him time to recuperate? Is there even an answer or am I just going to have to flounder and hope I don’t fuck my son up?

He rolled over onto his side and wrapped his arms around Hunter, soothing his son until his whimpers quieted. Quite frankly, he was terrified. What use was there in being an adult when he was just as confused about the world as he had been on the day when he realized that he wanted to kiss a boy?

Once Hunter was sleeping deeply, Dylan slid slowly away from him and sat up. The urge to get up and move was damn near overwhelming and rather than try to fight it, he gave in and left the bed. He placed his pillow in the spot where he had been lying and padded quietly out through the apartment to reach the kitchen. Though he preferred not to drink at home, a strange quirk of his that made very little sense in the long run when he was all too willing to go out and get hammered at a bar, he did have a case of beer that he kept in the bottom drawer of the fridge for just such an occasion. Retrieving one, he had just pulled the tab and was holding it up to his lips to take a drink when a soft knock came from outside his door.

“Dylan?” a voice whispered. Ryan’s voice.

His heart leapt up into his throat, hammering madly. He couldn’t breathe for a moment. There was no telling what Ryan was doing here at such an hour, but if he had learned anything at all recently, it was that good news rarely came at times like this.

Taking a huge swig of beer, hoping the alcohol would help soothe his buzzing nerves, he went over to the door and opened it.

Ryan filled the doorway with his bulk, looking both exhausted and bashful. His hair was mussed and silvery in the dull light filtering in through the fire exit door’s window down at the opposite end of the hallway. “I see you started without me.”

Dylan tilted his head. “Not sure what you mean.”

Ryan lifted one hand. For the first time, Dylan noticed that he was carrying something. Sticking up from a plastic grocery bag was the long neck of a bottle of whiskey. “I decided to bring the bar to you. Unless you don’t want to?”

It was beyond painful to feel that gap between them, as if something had gone dreadfully wrong and they were no longer as close as they had been. Dylan knew that couldn’t be true because nothing had happened to drive them apart in such a manner, but the gap was still there anyway. Was it just awkwardness in the aftermath of what they’d gone through, or was it something worse?

He was so, so tired of not having any answers. No matter how painful this next part might be, it would be a relief compared to not knowing. Better to yank this tooth out instead of letting it sit and rot.

“Come in.” Dylan stepped back and gestured grandly with one arm to invite Ryan inside. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

And humble it was, especially compared to where Ryan lived. However, it was home, and it was his castle despite its size that clearly said otherwise. There were a few things that could be said about living alone and most of them weren’t very good. However, Dylan knew of a few surprising benefits as well. He could eat whatever the hell he wanted, not having to think about anyone else—which was one of the best and worst parts of parenting—and he could decorate without having to compromise.

His home was perhaps the dream for all overgrown children, especially the sort who wished to own a train set. His walls were covered in displays of model cars, airplanes, tanks, robots, and anything he could get his hands on to build. His coffee table was indeed covered up by a train set, though it didn’t run much because his interest lay more in putting it together rather than sitting and watching it perform. He had more than a few pictures hanging up on the walls, displaying old cars and the like. His kitchen had framed gears hanging over the counter. Just being here made him happy.

He stood by, watching Ryan look around the apartment.

Eventually, Ryan looked back at him with a small smile playing on his lips. “You’ve really got a one-track mind, don’t you?”

“Sometimes,” Dylan admitted.

Ryan’s gaze was intense, too intense because it was so full of things that needed to be said but wouldn’t simply come on their own. Dylan glanced away and that was when he noticed that Ryan had another bag in his hand, mostly hidden behind the bottle of whiskey.

“What’s in there?” he asked, pointing.

“Oh, right. I probably should have given you these first, before I showed you the booze. Can we start over?”

Dylan smiled. “Sure.”

Ryan looked relieved and turned back around towards the door. Still smiling, Dylan let him out and then shut it behind him. After a moment there was a knock and the same whispering call of, “Dylan?”

Dylan pulled the door open again. He expected a joke or some sort of overreaction, but the thing he saw first was Ryan’s eyes, which were still as intense as ever. He meant everything that was about to follow.

The second thing Dylan noticed was the small bouquet of flowers being held up beneath his nose. Everything about the bouquet was small, from its general size to the minute stature of the flowers themselves, to the minimalist wrapping around their stems, but he was astounded all the same. No one had ever bought him flowers. Hell, no one had ever had any reason to buy him flowers. Yet, here they were now, for no reason at all.

The flush of warmth that shook through his entire body was almost too much to bear. He could feel his cheeks turning red and glanced away, but he was drawn right back to the flowers again.

They were sprays of baby’s breath, the petite little blooms mostly white and pale blue with a few lavender blossoms mixed in here and there.

“These are for you,” Ryan said. He sounded as if he was blushing but it was hard to tell in the darkness of the unlit living room. “It’s kind of late so there wasn’t much variety. I don’t know your favorite flowers anyway.”

Dylan looked up and smiled, tears trembling at the corners of his eyes. He could hardly hold back the flood, and couldn’t keep his voice from cracking when he did reply. “Baby’s breath is my favorite. Oh, Ryan, thank you! But, you didn’t have to. I mean...we’re not...”

Truth was, he didn’t have a favorite flower until just now.

Ryan stepped back inside the apartment, pressing the bouquet into Dylan’s hands. “I want to,” he said, very honestly. “More than anything. But I think we need to sit down and talk about this. I also brought alcohol, because I’m a man and I ran out of ideas on what to get you.”

Dylan blinked back the last of the tears that had been threatening to spill. “I’d love to talk. Let me get some shot glasses.”

“Fuck that,” Ryan said. “Let’s just do it straight from the bottle. Like the old days. I don’t mind putting my lips where yours have been.”

Ryan was clearly trying to keep the conversation light, and there were no amount of words in the world that could properly convey how much Dylan appreciated that. Fetching a glass of water, he unwrapped the flowers from their gaudy plastic holster and set them inside. Later on he would try to find the one vase he owned—he was pretty sure it was under the sink—but he didn’t exactly feel like taking the time to do it right now.

He joined Ryan on the couch. Their knees touched and neither of them made an effort to move away. However, now that they were actually here, he just didn’t know where to start, so he nursed his beer and waited.

Ryan opened the bottle of whiskey and took a polite sip, shuddering as it burned all the way down. Looking at it, Dylan could tell it wasn’t very high quality, but that didn’t really matter so much when you were just trying to get drunk.

“So, Hunter is my son.”

Dylan closed his eyes. He’d known this would happen, but he had always secretly hoped that he would find a way to bring this conversation about in a better, less confusing manner. But of course, Ryan had put all the clues together, especially once he’d seen how much Hunter resembled him.

“Yes. He is.”

“From that night.”

“Yes.”

Ryan took another sip of whiskey. “He looks like he’s a wonderful kid. And you’ve always sounded so proud of him, no matter what he’s doing. Is that what fatherhood does?”

“I don’t understand.”

“Does it make you proud?” Ryan clarified.

And now Dylan knew what he was trying to do. He was trying to be logical about this sudden development, to introduce himself into the concept by making it sound like a very positive experience.

But nothing about this was simple, and he would be loath to trick his best friend like that.

“Of course he makes me proud,” Dylan whispered. He looked at that bouquet of flowers sitting on the edge of his counter, focusing on it as if it might give him the strength he needed to get through this. “And I’m so proud he belongs to me, and that I’m his daddy. He’s so perfect. I don’t think he’s ever made me mad at him, not even once. I’ve been exasperated before and upset, and I don’t always understand what goes on in his mind...but even when the days are rough, I love him. It’s just...something special. To watch him grow up from this babbling noisy thing to an actual person. But it hasn’t been easy.” He stopped, finding himself choking up, and took a deep drink from his beer. The taste was bland but the soft heat sliding down his throat helped to release some of the tension.

“God, it’s been hard.”

“I wish I had known sooner,” Ryan said. “I wish that I’d been there to help you.”

Dylan looked at him. “It’s not too late.”

It’s never too late.

“I’ve just never really thought about having a kid before. It just didn’t seem like something that would ever really happen to me, you know? Maybe you don’t. I’m just not sure what to do. I’m not sure what we are or what we’re supposed to be. Everything is just so damn confusing.”’

“I didn’t plan on getting pregnant!” Dylan said. “If I’d had a plan, it would have been an evil one, and I’d use your own guilt to get you in my clutches so much sooner.”

Ryan smiled.

“It’s not really that hard. I mean, it’s hard, but not all of it is.”

“You aren’t making much sense right now, Dilly.”

Dylan sighed. “I guess not. It’s almost easier if we don’t even think about it. Just let it be. Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then I guess we just have to pick somewhere to start and go from there.”

Ryan considered this for a very long minute, and then he leaned back to look up at the ceiling. “What do you think it means for two best friends to fall in love? What changes?”

“Well,” Dylan said, wracking his brain, “I’m pretty sure they start having sex. And maybe that’s about it? Because shouldn’t a couple be friends, too? We’ve just done it backwards.”

“Nothing has to change?”

Dylan turned and looked at Ryan. It was almost funny how a big, tough, alpha wolf could be afraid of something so simple as a bit of change. Everyone was a creature of habit, no matter how much they might believe otherwise.

Looking into those vibrant green eyes, Dylan thought maybe he was ready to make some new habits.

Reaching out, he picked up one of Ryan’s hands to hold it tightly. “I don’t think we have to change. But I think it’ll change us to be in a relationship. Do you know what I mean?”

“I think I do,” Ryan replied. He looked down at their hands clasped so tightly, and stroked his thumb over Dylan’s. Even that simple touch raised a wave of tingles between the two of them.

Something stayed unspoken between them, but it couldn’t stay that way. Those days of ignoring a subject until it seemed to go away were gone. Dylan considered his next words very carefully before setting them loose upon the world. “You said that you hadn’t ever thought about kids.”

Ryan shrugged. “It was mostly the truth? I’ve never really seen anyone I want to be in a long relationship with. Eventually, I just kind of figured that I wasn’t going to have a mate. Which meant no kids. So really, there’s that. I know what you’re trying to say. If we’re together, I become...a father. But it’s not just that simple.”

How on earth did you explain this whole thing to a child? Dylan felt overwhelmed just thinking about it. Surely amid so much hardship, it wouldn’t be wise to introduce a brand-new element like this. How much did Hunter need to know, or was the truth best saved for a later day?

Ryan frowned, then. “No. I’ve always been a father. I’d rather be a dad. If he would want me to be. I just don’t know how I would do it.”

“But you want to?”

“I do.” Ryan leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Dylan’s. Their eyes locked together. “I want to catch up on all the time I’ve lost.”

I don’t think you can. What happened, happened. Maybe it’s just better now to move forward and leave the past where it belongs.

If Ryan heard his thoughts, Dylan didn’t know. While Hunter was missing, he and Ryan had been acting on need and instinct, not allowing themselves to think about what they were doing or how they acted towards each other. Now that the worst had passed, all those thoughts were flooding in, filling him with an equal mixture of dread and doubt and wonder.

But maybe, just maybe, it didn’t need to be that way.

Instead of thinking, Dylan tilted his head and pressed his lips against Ryan’s. He tasted of fierce, warm alcohol, but his lips were soft and his tongue was encouraging, beckoning him deeper and deeper into the kiss. Their mouths settled more firmly together and Dylan let his eyes close, submerging himself in the sensations. Suddenly, their knees touching wasn’t enough contact. They moved closer together, friction rising between them as their bodies sought the comfort of the other.

Suddenly, Dylan found himself being moved, shifted. His new seat was harder than the couch, and in a few different ways. The hard muscles along Ryan’s thighs were beneath him, and he was also being prodded by a rod of what felt like pure iron.

His hands strayed up into Ryan’s hair and then down his back, feeling the other’s powerful form. Ryan strained against him, the kiss increasing in intensity before backing off to a level that was almost delicate.

Dylan let his body lean against Ryan’s, fitting against him perfectly. He swept his fingertips underneath the hem of Ryan’s shirt, played in the gap between his skin and the back of his jeans before wandering around to the front. He had only just made contact with the hard bulge pressed against his leg and demanding attention, when Ryan’s hand covered his.

For a moment, drunk on the sensations inside him, Dylan could only marvel at that hand. It was as if this was the first time he opened his eyes and this was the first thing he saw. Ryan’s skin was sun-kissed, pale golden hairs climbing up even to his fingers. The knuckles were a little too square, a little too rugged, and his palms were callused slightly.

He might as well have been looking at the hand of a god.

“Dylan,” Ryan whispered. He kissed the back of Dylan’s hand softly, letting his lips linger. “Should we really do this? What about...”

“Hunter’s asleep,” Dylan whispered. “Just keep your voice down.”

“Keep my voice down? I’m not the one who likes to squeal,” he teased.

Dylan growled, but the words sent a soft thrill of delight down his spine, and he pressed against Ryan again. The kiss resumed as though it had never stopped, rising and falling in intensity until they were both panting and had to pause to catch their breath. Dylan could feel his body wanting to move on its own, and he knew exactly what he wanted to do. Grabbing the bottle of whiskey, he took a shot and felt the last of his tension melt away beneath the glow of heat that settled deep in his stomach.

Ryan reached for him, eyes hazy, intending to begin again. Pulling back slightly, Dylan stood up and ripped at his belt buckle. His fingers felt swollen and clumsy from excitement, as if this was the very first time he was about to do it.

I wonder if I’ll ever stop feeling that way.

“What are you doing?” Ryan said hoarsely. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, desire written across every inch of his body. He seemed to be straining against his skin, hardly able to control himself.

Finally getting his belt out of the way, Dylan made quick work of the rest of his jeans and kicked them to the side. Words didn’t seem like a good enough way to convey what he had in mind, but he didn’t need to really speak because he knew Ryan understood anyway. They were connected in their thoughts, sensing the other’s intentions moments before actions finally conveyed them.

Dylan reclaimed his seat on Ryan’s lap, reaching down to undo his jeans. He searched for the hard member tucked away within, following the heat it generated until his fingers brushed soft skin. Pulling it out, he slid his fingers up to the throbbing red head and rasped his thumb over it.

Ryan let out a near-inaudible moan, then pulled in a heavy gasp of air. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Inspiring such feelings in another person was almost exactly like getting drunk, a pleasurable buzzing filling Dylan’s entire body. For a moment he thought he could finally understand why alphas reveled so much in their sexual prowess, why it was always on their minds. This was dominance in the best sort of way, a shared pleasure that was bone deep.

Dylan held Ryan’s shaft in his hand and slowly slid his grip upwards, feeling the man buck softly beneath him, raising his ass up off the couch. He moved his hand down again and then back up, alternating the pressure he was giving the other man. Time seemed to slow down as they came together, their minds and their bodies connecting more and more by the moment.

Suddenly, Ryan quivered beneath him. Dylan stopped what he was doing immediately, but it was too late to pull Ryan back from the brink. Teeth gritted, head tossed back, Ryan grabbed at Dylan and held onto him tightly while shuddering and shaking his way through orgasm.

When it finally ended, Dylan drew back.

Ryan reached for him again but his hands were trembling, and he didn’t really seem inclined to rush himself. “Where are you going?” He sounded breathless and looked haggard but he clearly wasn’t finished, because he was already half-hard again.

“I’ll be back,” Dylan whispered. He scurried away, feeling his dick bounce unpleasantly as he walked. Maybe it was a dumb idea to have undressed so soon, but he could bear a little discomfort if the reward was as good as he knew it was going to be.

He stopped by the bedroom and glanced in. Hunter was asleep in the exact position he’d been left in, breathing with the measured rhythm of sleep.

Peace of mind restored, Dylan went into the bathroom and found the bottle of lube he kept around, hidden on the very top shelf of the medicine cabinet where Hunter was unlikely to find it. His son was hardly tall enough to see over the top of the bathroom sink, but that didn’t stop him from getting into all sorts of trouble. He’d had to buy a new electric razor after the last time Hunter went exploring. The last thing he wanted was to have to answer questions about what this bottle of slippery goo was. He could always lie, but there was no telling if he might then go around repeating the lie, creating potential confusion and embarrassment. Kids lacked a filter. Sometimes that was the best part of raising one. Other times, it made him want to crawl in a hole and die.

He hurried back to Ryan and found the alpha exactly as he had left him. Ryan glanced at the bottle in his hand and then looked up into his eyes. “Nice of you to come back. Thought I’d chased you away for a second there.”

The words came in jest, but Dylan didn’t feel like treating them lightly. “I’ll always come back,” he said.

He sat in Ryan’s lap again and leaned forward so that their dicks brushed together softly. Ryan was beyond sensitive at this point but that didn’t stop him from hardening again and he groaned, tossing his head back and quivering.

Dylan breathed softly against his neck while uncapping the lube. He squeezed out a liberal amount onto his fingers and reached around behind himself to spread the gel all over his puckered opening. His fingers slid inside easily, his muscles loose with desire.

Then, he held onto Ryan and began. He repositioned himself so that he was balanced right over Ryan’s ramrod-straight cock and started to lower down. Ryan raised up slightly to meet him, and their bodies finally made contact in that most sensitive of places.

Dylan whimpered with delight as the hot, swollen tip pushed deep inside him. He kept sliding lower and lower, feeling himself stretched and filled until there was no more room inside him for anything. He was sitting on those muscular thighs again, flush against them. He wiggled a little, feeling the delicious fullness.

Beneath him, Ryan gasped and grabbed onto his waist with hard fingers. “Fuck!” he whispered, barking out the word harshly in the midst of a wave of trembling. “Don’t do that!”

“Why?” Dylan whispered back. He wiggled again, rocking slightly back and forth so that Ryan’s cock hit him in different places. He, too, was trembling.

“I’ll bust!”

Dylan slid his fingers up Ryan’s shirt, bracing himself against the strong chest underneath and chancing to stroke over his nipples. “No, you won’t,” he growled. “Not until I’m through with you.”

Ryan bit his lip and shuddered. “Fuck. Feisty. I like it.”

Dylan let Ryan feel his nails, pressing them into his skin, and then all words ceased to come, and they began to move together in earnest. Dylan rocked back and forth with an increasing speed until he was practically jumping on Ryan’s dick, making soft moaning sounds that he couldn’t smother no matter how hard he tried. The repeated slaps of flesh striking flesh disturbed the stillness of the living room, over and over again. The couch cushion released a soft burst of air with each pounding it took, though thankfully the springs weren’t squeaking.

Ryan moved beneath Dylan, keeping pace with him. He wasn’t thrusting so much as he was bucking, grinding their bodies together.

Dylan looked into his best friend’s face, at the tight expression of restrained desire there, and felt his heart swell. Leaning forward, he touched their lips together and whispered, “Finish me.”

Ryan wasted no time in obeying. He moved, repositioning them so that Dylan lay on his back on the couch while Ryan crouched over him. Bracing themselves, they pushed together even harder and faster than before, striving to reach the peak together. Dylan could feel Ryan’s pleasure echoing his own and the feeling was powerful and sweet, something to be reveled in.

No human could ever be as close as they were right then, occupying the space inside each other’s souls.

It seemed as if they could have gone on like that for an eternity, thrusting and grinding together. Ryan was pounding him, and Dylan had his legs wrapped around his waist, hanging on for all he was worth. He had his hands gripping Ryan’s back, nails sliding over sweat-slick flesh.

Then, suddenly, Ryan lowered his head and pressed his lips to Dylan’s neck.

Dylan felt something go very still inside him even while the rest of him continued to reach even higher peaks. He felt omega then, more than he ever had, as if he was about to service the exact purpose he was meant for. He was to be claimed, to be loved, to be doted upon. He was to be bitten, to wear the mark of his alpha proudly.

But he wasn’t bitten. Instead, Ryan just kissed him on the neck with lots of hot breath.

That was what did him in. Every muscle in his body spasmed one final time, but this was a spasm that never ended, continuing on and on and on. He shook into oblivion, entering a space where there was nothing but heat and weight and love. It wouldn’t suffice to say that he saw fireworks. No, he saw stars.

When he finally descended from the galaxy, he found himself still on his back with Ryan stretched out on top of him, face planted against his neck.

“My god,” Ryan muttered. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Dylan slid his fingers down the alpha’s trembling back, noticing that the places he’d scratched were starting to raise up slightly. Pride trembled in his throat. Omegas could mark alphas too. He moved his touch up to Ryan’s hair, combing his fingers through it. “I don’t think you did too shabby either, grandpa.” Ryan scowled, acting indignant, but he couldn’t keep such a stern face in the aftermath of what they’d done together.

Dylan reached for his clothes, but didn’t start to dress yet. He was reluctant to move any further than this, as if doing so would break the magic which had formed between them. He wasn’t ready to let go of it, didn’t want to admit that this night visit of theirs was ending. Even though Ryan had probably given himself a grace period for recovery, the man couldn’t spend it just letting time waste away. He had to get things together for when he went back to work.

Surprisingly, Dylan himself had more leeway when it came to such things. He had handpicked his employees to be trustworthy and reliable, even if they were still a bit rough around the edges as mechanics tended to be. He had set them up to be able to handle the shop without him after all, when he went searching for the wishing well with Ryan. They could continue to do so, because most of what he did as a business owner could be done remotely anyway.

Ryan only had himself, and a secretary who was probably frantic by this point.

“Dilly? What are you thinking about?”

He looked up to meet Ryan’s eyes, which were very gentle. “Just how busy things are going to be for a long time. How are we going to ever do anything about...us?”

After waiting for so long, his dreams were still so far away from coming true.

Ryan frowned for a moment while fiddling with the zipper on his jeans. He gave up and reached out to hold Dylan’s hand. “We do it just like we did during the chase. One day at a time. We aren’t the first people to have to try to balance work and romance. We can do it. But promise me something?”

“I’d promise you anything,” Dylan said, very truthfully.

“And that’s kind of what we need to discuss.” Ryan leaned over and held him by the shoulders, looking at him with gentleness. “And I’m telling you this not as your best friend or lover, but as your leader. As someone who’s seen a lot of relationships go to shit.”

Uh oh.

“You can’t think that just because the well showed me that you’re my mate, that this means things are going to be perfect. Things are going to suck. They’ll be hard. We’ll argue. All the things that couples do because we would just be a couple. Do you understand that, Dylan?”

He didn’t, not really. How could this not be perfect if it was destined? But for Ryan’s sake, he nodded. “I understand.”

Ryan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I know you only said that because you thought it’s what I wanted to hear. That’s exactly what I was talking about.” Ryan leaned in and their lips pressed together softly, then Ryan drew away. “It’d be best if I got going. I don’t think it’s time for Hunter to see me sleeping here just yet.”

“I’ll see you out.”

“Don’t bother,” Ryan said briskly. “I’m pretty sure I won’t get lost on my way out. I’ll call you tomorrow or something, okay?”

Dylan nodded. Though they hadn’t parted yet, he could feel loneliness seeping in through the gaps as their minds began to separate. “Okay.”

They shared another kiss, this one lingering and sweet, and then Ryan left. He shut the door so softly that it made no sound at all.

Dylan just looked at the door for a very long time, then moved his gaze to the  miniscule flowers on the counter. They were a harbinger of sweeter things to come, he just knew it. Ryan was wrong. The two of them were different from other wolves who fell in love.

Suddenly, feeling very tired, Dylan straightened up and went back to his bedroom. As he left the living room and entered the hallway, the sudden absence of scent made him aware that he had been smelling the thick odor left behind by their lovemaking. It was a heavy musk better than any perfume, but it did have a way of sticking around. He hoped it would dissipate enough by morning so as not to be enough to bother Hunter.

His son was still lying as he’d left him. His thumb was in his mouth. Dylan observed this with weary amusement. They’d struggled to break that habit when Hunter was a toddler, as their doctor advised it would harm his teeth and cause complications until they eventually fell out and regrew. No point wasting money on dental work that would be discarded in only a few years, not if they could avoid it.

He wondered if the habit was back now, a sign of regression in the face of trauma, or if this was only a momentary lapse. Either way, he thought his son deserved to take comfort where he could get it and resolved to ignore it for now.

With Hunter cradled against him, it was easier to fall back asleep. However, Dylan wished there was someone to hold him.