It was another Saturday, perhaps three months into Dylan’s pregnancy. He was putting on a lot of weight and his clothes no longer fit very well at all. No one mentioned it out of politeness, which was just fine with him. He was pretty insecure about it.

Nothing made him more insecure than the sidelong glances Hunter gave him sometimes, as if he knew there was something going on here that he couldn’t quite understand. Soon enough he was bound to start asking questions, and Dylan didn’t know if he was prepared for them.

The day was relatively uneventful from start to finish. Dylan did his work from home while Hunter finished his homework and then kept himself busy doing this or that. Shortly after lunchtime, Ryan knocked on the door and let himself in.

“Uncle Ryan!” Hunter cried out, sensing him at the door. He came scampering in, transforming into a wolf halfway there. Ryan let himself be knocked over and then he sprang away in his own wolf body, his pawsteps so heavy and powerful that they practically shook the entire room.

Hunter chased after him and swatted him on the nose with one paw. Then, he dropped down over his front legs and raised his tail up in the air in a lupine display of playfulness. Ryan huffed a laugh deep in the back of his throat and bounded forward. The two wolves, white and gray, tussled for a long moment before the playfight abruptly ended. Hunter squirmed beneath Ryan’s weight, who had him pinned down effortlessly.

And then they were human again and Hunter was squealing through his giggles while Ryan roughed up his hair.

Dylan watched the entire process with his heart so full of love that he didn’t know how he could contain it all. He felt on the verge of bursting apart from the sheer pressure of it from the inside.

Eventually, Ryan released Hunter and turned to face Dylan. “Hope you don’t mind me just showing up unannounced.”

Dylan swallowed hard, trying to form words through the glow of overwhelming happiness. “You know I don’t. Slow day at work?”

Ryan shrugged his broad shoulders. In the past couple of weeks he’d been letting his hair grow out a little, so that he and Hunter resembled each other more than ever. “Not really slow, I just didn’t schedule anything for the last half of the day. I wanted to spend it with you two instead.”

The sentiment was beyond touching and Dylan smiled wide. “Well, we’d love to have you. We just had lunch.”

“So did I,” Ryan replied. He handed Hunter a fortune cookie, who took it with some reverence. “Anyone interested in coming to the park with me?”

Of course they were both interested. For both of them, there was nothing better than spending time with Ryan.

Though their time at the park was a delight, there was nothing noteworthy about it. Hunter brought as much to play with as he could carry, which included, but was not limited to a kite, a baseball bat and glove, and a soccer ball. Dylan wasn’t much for sports, although he did know how to fly a kite and amazed everyone with his mastery of the wind until he ended up crashing the kite into a tree so thick and tall that retrieving it was just out of the question. Luckily, it was a cheap kite and it would be no trouble at all to replace.

Hunter lamented over the loss of his kite but there wasn’t much time for him to be sad when Ryan put the baseball glove on his foot and tried to start a game of catch with it in that position. The chaos that ensued was perhaps worth the loss of a $5 kite.

When the two tired of their current game, they moved onto soccer.

“I think I’m going to have to opt out of this one,” Dylan said. He placed both hands on his stomach, reminding Ryan of the fact that he was starting to resemble a soccer ball more than a person.

Ryan grinned at him and went to lean in for a kiss before seeming to remember himself and pulling back. Dylan glanced over at his son but he seemed not to have noticed that something weird was going on between his two most favorite people in the world.

“Fine,” Ryan said. “You can keep score.”

Keeping score turned out to be just as impossible as running with a pregnancy-addled body. The two opposing wolves were constantly shifting where their goals were and absolutely refused to admit when they’d been scored on. In fact, they spent more time arguing and tousling than they did kicking the ball.

Dylan sat on a bench near the soccer “field” and watched the proceedings with a smile. The sun was warm on his shoulders, with a soft breeze blowing by. He felt contented and sleepy, exactly like a wild wolf would be in the presence of their pack. He watched his best friend and their son, marveling at how alike they were. Solid bodies, rippling muscle, long blonde hair that the wind caressed so sweetly. Eyes green as grass, green as herbs, so full of life.

They’re my garden, Dylan thought. He didn’t quite know what he meant by that except that the meaning seemed right. And judging by the way Ryan looked at him a moment later, he’d overheard and agreed. There was just something about the idea of a garden that worked, as if their presence in his life enriched him with the work and the rewards.

He didn’t have long to appreciate this epiphany before a need to get up overcame him. He hated to leave but, he knew from past experiences—a few which were incredibly embarrassing—that such things couldn’t be ignored.

“I’ll be back,” he promised, standing up and getting ready to leave.

His absence was barely noted at all by the other two, who were locked in another play fight. Ryan was always so incredibly gentle with Hunter that Dylan felt no qualms about leaving them alone together. He never had. That terrible fluke when the reporter had gotten involved was the exception and not the rule. So, it was obvious to him that he could leave and not worry about what might happen in his absence.

And even if he did worry, it had soon faded as there were no further incidents. Still, he hurried through what needed to be done, not wanting to miss a moment of fun. But when he was coming back, there was no fun to be had. Ryan sat on the ground in the middle of their play area, and beside him was Hunter. Hunter looked very much like a boy who was trying to puzzle his way through something a child couldn’t understand.

What’s going on?

Neither one of them had noticed him even though he now stood near enough that he could overhear them if he strained to do so. And he did.

“Does it still hurt?” Ryan asked.

Did what hurt? Had Hunter been injured while Dylan was gone? He held his breath, waiting for some sign to show him that everything was okay.

He received that sign a moment later when Hunter nodded and held up a perfectly-unscathed hand. “Yes, Uncle Ryan.”

Clearly, this was only the aftermath of some tiny scrape or scratch. Maybe a splinter. Whatever the culprit, it wasn’t serious. Dylan relaxed.

“That’s good,” Ryan said. “Didn’t mean to step on you.”

Hunter gave a little giggle. “You’ve got big feet.”

Ryan laughed, too. “I guess I do. Sometimes these big floppy feet of mine get out of control.”

Hunter giggled a few seconds more but then he went abruptly quiet, the wheels turning and turning in his brain. “Uncle Ryan? Why is Daddy getting all fat?”

Ouch.

There was no answer to this perfectly reasonable question. “Well,” Ryan finally said, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason for it. Have you asked him?”

“Nuh-uh. But I think he’s going to have a baby.”

“What makes you think that?” Ryan plucked a blade of grass from the ground and started to methodically shred it into pieces, his fingers working nervously.

Hunter tipped his head to one side so that his perfect corn silk hair fell over his forehead and covered one eye. He was so beautiful that Dylan couldn’t breathe. “Tommy from school says all mommies get real fat before they have babies. Because they need to feed the baby so they eat a lot.”

“And Kimmy...do you remember Kimmy, Uncle Ryan?”

Dylan remembered Kimmy. She was a pup in the wolf pack only about a year older than Hunter. Though they went to different school districts, the two were friends who always played together with a bunch of other kids whenever there was a pack meeting at the park. Last meeting, Hunter had made sure to introduce all of them individually to Ryan. The whole affair was awkward and adorable, as they already generally knew each other since Ryan was the pack leader.

“I don’t know how I could forget her, buddy,” Ryan replied. He smiled, the corner of his mouth crooking upwards in that funny way it had when he was deeply amused.

“Well, she says that omega boys like Daddy can have babies, too! She says her brother is going to have a baby.”

Dylan didn’t know anything about that—though he sincerely hoped Kimmy’s brother was significantly older than her—but he figured that Ryan must. And as a matter of fact, Ryan was already nodding with a thoughtful look on his face.

“Yes, yes he is. And he’s very happy about it. But about your Daddy, I think that might be something you should talk about with him.”

Hunter pouted. “But you stepped on my hand, so you owe me!”

Ryan threw back his head and laughed out loud. “God, you’re exactly like him. So wily. Fine. But you have to act surprised when he tells you, okay?”

“Okay!”

“Yes, your father is going to have another baby. But that doesn’t mean he’s going to love you any less, okay?”

Hunter looked confused, as if this thought hadn’t ever occurred to him. The confusion quickly passed as he moved on to more pressing issues. “Are you the Daddy?”

Ryan looked taken aback by this, mouth opening slightly though no words would emerge. After all, what could a person even say in response to that when the one asking the question was a child?

Not noticing the effect that he’d had on the adult, Hunter continued on, talking through his thought process. “I see you kiss sometimes when you think I’m not looking. Do uncles normally kiss daddies?”

Dylan held his breath, waiting to see where this would go.

Ryan seemed to have found his footing far quicker than Dylan would have thought. As much as he loved the man, he had his flaws, and being a bit dense at times was one of them. That, and his tendency to be blunt even in situations where it wasn’t called for. But maybe, right now, that bluntness would serve him well if he could figure out how to phrase things right.

“Yes, your Daddy and I kiss. And we hug, too. I’m not really your Uncle, you know?”

Hunter giggled softly. “I know.”

“But yes, the baby your Dad is going to have, I’m the Dad, too.”

“Does that mean you’re my Dad, too?”

Oh, baby.

Dylan’s heart clenched with pain. It was all he could do to keep from butting in on this conversation, to let it follow through on its natural course without his interference.

Ryan turned to face Hunter and reached out to hold one of his small hands. “I love your Dad a whole lot, buddy. I want to marry him. I’d like to be your Dad too, but only if you want me to. Because I love you, too.”

“Do I have to call you Daddy?”

“No!” Ryan said, very quickly. Hunter jumped. In the background, Dylan also flinched at the vehemence in that voice. “No, you don’t have to do anything. You can call me that if you want. But you can also just call me Ryan. Whatever you want, Hunter. Anything you want.”

Hunter nodded and looked like he was about to reply when he suddenly looked around. Dylan gave a feeble wave as his son’s eyes alit on him, feeling very unsure of himself.

“Hey,” Ryan called over. “What was the score where we left off?”

Dylan worked for the words, willing them to come. He could see some hesitation in Ryan’s eyes as the other man wondered how much had been overheard and if it had anything to do with how Dylan was acting. If this went on, the rest of their time together here at the park might be soured by indecision and doubts and hesitation.

He licked his lips and finally found words. “How the hell should I know? You’re both horrible at soccer.”

“Daddy!” Hunter scowled. “That’s not nice! Don’t be an ass!”

Dylan felt his mouth drop open from astonishment. Amusement and disapproval battled inside him and he couldn’t decide which was the more appropriate response. “Hunter Lee Johnson! Where did you even learn that word?”

“From Uncle Ryan!”

Dylan swiveled his gaze to Ryan, who looked guilty as sin. “Ryan!”

“I didn’t teach him,” Ryan protested, holding up his hands. “He heard me say it, and I explained that sometimes it’s okay to use bad words. Would you rather he grows up a prude?”

Dylan rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head. He was getting the feeling that they were going to end up having very different parenting styles. Truth be told, he was looking forward to the arguments they might have in the future. One thing he knew from his divorce was that people only argued if they cared, if they were thinking of what they thought was best. Apathy was a far worse crime to commit when a relationship was involved.

The rest of their time at the park passed, and they went out for ice cream. Somehow, Ryan managed to get more on himself than everyone else in the ice cream parlor combined.

“At this rate, you won’t have any clothes left,” Dylan commented.

“I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Ryan grinned. Another slow trickle of vanilla rolled over the back of his hand, tracing a delicate trail that wove through his knuckles.

Dylan blushed and swatted at him. Hunter was oblivious to this exchange, lost in that world of near-euphoric pleasure unique to children who are eating dessert in the middle of the day. Dylan could have watched him like that for an eternity, spooning one heaping bite after another without worries over calories or having too much sugar. The innocence of youth seemed powerful enough to right all the wrongs in the world.

At least, he could have watched that for an eternity if he wasn’t continually distracted by thoughts of licking ice cream off Ryan.

He didn’t get to make those thoughts a reality, as Ryan cleaned up in the bathroom upon returning to the apartment. In fact, he didn’t get much of a chance to be alone with Ryan until very late that night after putting Hunter to bed.

With his son’s goodnight kiss still plastered on his cheek, faintly slobbery, Dylan walked back through the hallway and came up behind Ryan. He wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders and hugged him from behind. “I love you, too.”

“Too?” Ryan turned and raised one eyebrow, then a look of realization crossed his face. “Oh. You um...you heard. Earlier. At the park.”

“I did,” Dylan confirmed. He rubbed his cheek against Ryan’s, reveling in the ability to touch and caress him. He didn’t think any of this would ever get old for him, since he’d spent a lifetime waiting for this. There was something almost magical about the stubbly rasping of facial hair against his skin. “All of it. You handled all that really well.”

Ryan let out an explosive sigh. “Oh, thank god. I had no idea what I was doing. He asked some damn hard questions.”

“Kids always do that.” Dylan leaned more firmly against him, enjoying the fact that it didn’t make much of a difference. He was a lightweight in comparison to Ryan. “I try to be honest with him. I’m glad that you were.”

“Not like I could lie to him and pretend he was wrong. That’s just not how it works. Come here, dammit. I don’t like you lurking around behind me.”

Dylan found himself suddenly in Ryan’s lap as the other man reached around and pulled him there. It was a damn comfortable seat, even with Ryan’s dick prodding him at an odd angle from underneath. He wrapped his arms around Ryan’s neck and leaned his head against his shoulder. “You’re going to be a great dad,” he sighed.

Ryan looked down at him with eyes that were soft and yet very frightened. “Are you sure? What if I screw it up somehow?”

“That’s surprisingly hard to do,” Dylan replied. He smiled a little, remembering all the mistakes he had made and how he had stayed up night after night, worrying that he had just done irreparable damage. “You’re going to fuck up, but as long as you love them, I don’t think you can really fuck them up.”

“That’s strangely reassuring and yet not at all.”

“It’s kind of like a roller coaster,” Dylan clarified. “For a while it’s just this slow upward crawl, and then you reach a tipping point and everything moves too fast and too smooth. That’s the fun part. And the scary part.”

Ryan looked down at him. His eyes were very soft, reflecting all the colors of the TV screen as it played on mute in the background. “You’re mixing your metaphors. Seems like you’re trying to convince me.”

“Did you really need convincing?” Dylan pursed his lips for a kiss.

“Nope.” Ryan leaned down and kissed him softly, their lips touching sweetly again and again. Each gentle contact sent a soft thrill through Dylan, as if he was being sent some message in Morse code. He thought he understood that message damn loud and clear, especially what with the periodic jabbing of Ryan’s cock punctuating their kisses.

Dylan slid his fingers up into Ryan’s hair, loving the way the gold strands slipped in his grasp. He felt like the princess from that fairy tale, spinning straw into gold. He must have read that story to Hunter at one point, when his pup was younger and starry-eyed at the thought of princes and princesses, though right now the name of the tale escaped him. Already the world was becoming narrower as his focus honed in on the only thing in the entire apartment, in the world, that mattered. He stopped being aware of the television, of the sounds of the appliances humming away, of the distant thumps from his neighbor’s apartment. There was only Ryan and the feel of his skin, the taste of his breath, the scent of his arousal.

“Fuck,” Dylan sighed, a soft moan that exhaled against Ryan’s lips. He tightened his grip on Ryan’s hair, clutching two perfect handfuls while pressing their mouths more firmly together. He hardly needed to encourage Ryan with any pulling or tugging because the other man sensed his desire, echoed it, was already right there with him, but he couldn’t stop himself from doing so. His need was spiraling rapidly out of control and he needed a way to express some of it or else he would burst before they even had any chance to do anything.

Ryan growled softly against his begging lips, and the vibration of the sound was enough to make him quiver all over. “You want me, baby?”

Being called baby was another thing Dylan didn’t think he’d ever get over. He spasmed with pleasure at the sound, as if it was a spell to summon his orgasm. “Fuck yes,” he whimpered. His lips danced now, kissing all over Ryan’s lips, the top and bottom separately, the corners and the center, before flicking away to worship his jawline, to taste his chin and his cheeks and the tip of his fine nose. He was like a wolf, submissive and yet dominant in his need, asking for permission from the alpha and knowing all the while that it would be granted. The game, the asking, was as pleasurable as everything else. It was more than foreplay, more like a reassurance to both of them that they were here, they were together, and they were alive.

Ryan clutched at him, hands sliding down Dylan’s back over and over on either side of his spine. As Dylan’s kisses grew more demanding as the need inside him continued to escalate to heights unknown by any mere human, Ryan responded in kind. He moved his hands up under Dylan’s shirt and dug his nails into Dylan’s skin, not enough to hurt but enough to be felt. They were becoming the animals inside them, losing their humanity. Love was rough and so they would be, too.

Suddenly, without any rhyme or reason, Dylan could take no more of this. He had reached the limits of what he could tolerate, and if he wanted any real fun to be had, he had best get a move on. Planting his hands on Ryan’s shoulders, Dylan pushed back and let out a shuddering breath.

Sensing what he wanted to do, Ryan released him. It took only a few moments for him to fetch lube and come back, where he dropped the tube into Ryan’s lap like a dog who had fetched a ball.

Ryan took no notice of the lube however, though Dylan had expected—and needed—to be pounced on in an instant. Instead, Ryan pulled him back into his lap and held onto him tightly. “I want you,” he whispered.

“I want you, too,” Dylan replied, a little fervently. There was no explaining the depths of the fire burning inside him because there was no end to it. He was only made of flame, eternally burning.

“No,” Ryan said. His eyes, though hazy from sexual need, were also very soft and peaceful. He looked like a man who had come to terms with something that had been bothering him for a very long time. “I want more than just sex. I want to be with you forever. I want to be your mate.”

All the breath left his lungs, leaving only emptiness in its wake. “Oh,” Dylan breathed. And he repeated it—“Oh”—because that was all he could think to say. All the untold years he had spent dreaming of this day and now it was finally here? He had imagined it so many times, practiced it, practically choreographed it, but now that it was happening he couldn’t recall any of it.

Luckily, Ryan could feel every bit of what was coursing through him. He slid one hand underneath Dylan’s chin and lifted his face so that their eyes met. “Dylan,” he said. His voice was full of a tender, wondering, newfound love, husky at the edge with his arousal. “Would you like to be my mate?”

A simple “yes” wouldn’t do. Dylan shifted slightly in Ryan’s lap and then tilted his head down so that the back of his neck was exposed. He was offering himself up, accepting this, wanting it.

Ryan also leaned his head down, about to mark, when he suddenly hesitated.

Dylan knew exactly what he was looking at. After all, for a short time, he had been with someone else. He had let Arden mark him to cement the charade they were both taking part in, and marks didn’t simply go away. A wolf could tell when another was claimed just by their scent, but there was always that other sign: the faint scar of a bite mark that was usually on the back of the neck. Though shifters healed very quickly, a claiming mark would always scar over and stay.

Ryan was looking at the faded echoes of the mark Arden had left on him.

For a moment, Dylan was afraid. He was used goods, already used up and discarded. Then Ryan kissed the back of his neck and he was afraid no longer, and the next second, sharp fangs pierced his skin. There was pain, but it was an insignificant amount and the sharpness of it was almost sweet. Heated trickles of blood dribbled around to the hollow of his throat and beaded there into one solid droplet, a necklace of belonging.

And just like that, he was no longer discarded, no longer useless. He was restored, given another chance at this strange thing called love.

Ryan’s hot, wet tongue flicked out and licked the place where he had bitten. Dylan whimpered, but before he could even finish, he found himself suddenly tossed onto the couch. His pants were torn away, his underwear yanked down. He raised his ass up and felt the solid press of Ryan’s hard thighs against his cheeks, spreading him open so that his throbbing pucker would be on display. An instant later hot, slick fingers spread gel over his opening and he choked on a scream while writhing. One solid finger slid inside him and he bucked against it, but it was already gone and was replaced with something much more substantial.

Ryan’s bulging cock sliding into him arrived with a sense of joining that was more than just the physical. Their minds seemed to meld. Their thoughts were as one, two halves of the same whole that had finally been put together. With no separation between them at all, thoughts and images flew freely in an ecstasy greater even than what was happening to their bodies.

It wasn’t merely sex. It was Part Two of the claiming and it was rough, animalistic, and pure. It was only them, all on their own in the world, and they were both damn fine with it.

Ryan pounded deep into Dylan’s ass, shoving him down against the couch with every thrust. He buried his face in the back of Dylan’s neck, biting and nipping and sucking him.

Dylan buried his face in the cushion and bit at it to strangle his cries. He bucked and writhed, grinding against the rigid shaft buried inside him. There was no part of him that didn’t feel good. His inner walls were being worked into a frenzy of spasms, and that center of pleasure deep inside him burned hotter every time Ryan struck against it, as if he was a flame being stoked. Every time his own dick was shoved against the couch cushions, he shook helplessly.

They moved together, grunting and thrusting, lost in pleasure, until Dylan felt himself being bitten in that exact same place again where he had already been claimed. This time, there was no stopping the scream that ripped from his lips, but he did his best to muffle it against the couch even though he was hardly aware of who he was or what he was doing at this point.

Ryan’s hips shoved him down almost painfully hard, holding him there flat and grinding against him with fierce intensity. He let out a long, low moan as he came, filling Dylan with a rush of warmth, but Dylan hardly felt it because he was lost in his own orgasm.

When the trembling started to ebb away from them in the aftermath, Dylan felt himself being moved. The sensation came only distantly, and he hardly even realized it was gone again until covers were being pulled up over his shoulders. Though he thought that he might be alone now, as he had been alone night after night despite their deepening relationship, he was to be proven wrong when warm, welcoming arms suddenly wrapped around him. He was pulled back against a strong chest, his head cradled in the crook of a muscular arm.

“Go to sleep,” Ryan whispered. He kissed Dylan’s cheek, lips soft and stubble rough.

And Dylan was only too eager to obey.