Perrin points the dish towel at me. "Don't call me baby while we’re arguing."
“Would you rather me fuck the argument out of you?” I smile, staring intently at Perrin’s flushed, pretty face.
“Stop it.” The beta tries like hell not to duck his head, but he ends up failing, smiling at his feet.
“I’m done with all of you tonight,” Adam says, setting his empty glass in the sink. "My bones hurt and I’m going to bed. Goodnight."
"Goodnight," Cliff says, and I can hear the smile in it even though his face stays straight.
"Sleep well," Perrin calls after his brother.
"Get out of my life," Adam calls back from the hallway, and then his footsteps disappear up the stairs.
The kitchen settles back into quiet.
Perrin stares at the doorway for a moment, then looks at us. "He's fine," he says, like he's trying to convince himself as much as anyone.
And I get it.
Even though we like to tease Perrin, we’ve all seen howAdam flocks to his twin when he’s feeling overwhelmed, and things have been a little intense lately.
"You want to sleep in the big bed tonight?" Cliff asks Perrin. “I’m sure she’d love to have you close.”
The flush along the back of Perrin’s neck moves forward fast, crawling up to his ears and across his cheekbones before he's managed to say a single word. "I don't want to crowd her," he says, reaching for the dish towel and folding it with sudden intense focus. "She's already dealing with a lot, and the last thing she needs is me taking up space?—"
"Perrin." Cliff says the beta’s name softly.
“All I’m saying is that she probably needs room to?—"
"Omegas need closeness from their pack," Cliff says simply. "Especially right now. You wouldn't be crowding anyone."
Perrin nods, his eyes fixed on the dish towel in his hands. "Right. No, I know that." He nods again. "That makes sense. I just don't want her to think I expect her to…." He grimaces as he whispers, "sleep with me."
"Really?" I lean against the counter and cross my arms. "But you already fucked her at the Morder.”
His head snaps up so fast I'm surprised he doesn't hurt himself. "We did not." His voice comes out about an octave higher than usual. "That isnotwhat happened. It was a—" He stops, looks at Cliff, looks at me, then drops his voice to something barely above a whisper, his face going scarlet. "It was only a blow job."
The image that puts in my head is dirty, graphic, and deeply unhelpful for the current conversation.
All I can think about is Elowen’s pretty pink lips wrapped around Perrin’s perfect cock, sucking and moaning, with spit dripping down her chin, and Perrin's eyes squeezed tight.
I want him in that bed tonight so badly it hurts.
The thought of watching Cliff fuck Perrin into Elowen has my cock rock-fucking-hard. And it takes everything in me not to grab my dick and squeeze.
But I can’t dwell on it, because it’s not happening. Not tonight.
Perrin needs time to work up to real physical intimacy, and no amount of want on my end is going to speed that process up.
Hell, the man agonized for almost a full month before he let me kiss him. He moves at his own pace and always has, and the thing I've learned about Perrin over the years is that if you push him he digs in, but if you leave the door open, he'll eventually walk through it on his own terms.
It's how he's built.
"Whatever you want to do," Cliff says, letting it go without making Perrin say it out loud. “But know that you can change your mind and crawl into bed with us at any time.”
“I know.” Perrin finally sets the dish towel down. He looks between us, then up at the ceiling, then back at us. "I'm sleeping in your room," he says to me, and my brows lift, surprised.
“You can always sleep in my bed,” I say, making sure he knows that. “But what’s wrong with yours?”
