“Is your chicken ready?” Hades murmured.
Aaren’s blush went all the way to his ears. He looked down at the tent in his pajama pants. “M-Maybe.”
He rolled his hips against the oven handle to take the edge off his arousal, making a soft, pleasured sound in his throat.
“Aaren?”
“H-Huh?”
“Would you turn around for me? Just for a second.”
Aaren froze. “Um. Wh-Why would you want that?”
There was a brief pause. “You’re frying chicken without an apron. I wanted to see if any oil splattered on you.”
It sounded like a legitimate reason. Maybe.
If Hades didn’t sound quite so... knowing.
Aaren gulped. He wanted to adjust himself, but he also wasn’t wearing any underwear. Hopefully, he asked. “Y-You could check when the chicken’s done?”
“I’d like to see you now, if you don’t mind.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck!Aaren plucked at the hem of his shirt. If he held it away from himself and stretched it down, it wouldn’t cling to his bulge and betray its shape.
With that in mind, he turned, his shirt stretched taut, obscuring the guilty evidence.
Hades made a low sound, his sea-green gaze drifting from the top of Aaren’s head down to his toes. Then it wandered back up to Aaren’s hands. “Release your shirt, please.”
The command in his voice went straight to Aaren’s cock. It jerked at his voice, at hisknowing.
“Um,” Aaren whispered.
Hades met his gaze. “You know you can say no, right? At any point in time. I’ll back off, no questions asked.”
Yeah, Aaren knew. He’d known ever since Hades had controlled his anger and sat down to make himself appear non-threatening. He nodded slowly, his throat dry.
“So drop your hands, sweetheart. Let me see.” Hades leaned forward, bracing his forearms against his thighs. This brought him closer to Aaren’s hips.
His face scorching, Aaren let the shirt fall freely so it draped over the curve of his belly. And the tent in his pants.
“Mmm.” Hades’ gaze intensified. He reached over, fingers pausing just before he touched the hem of Aaren’s shirt. “May I?”
“Sure,” Aaren squeaked.
Hades lifted Aaren’s shirt, exposing his belly. And his bulge. Oh gods, his erection was obvious now, his tip shoving against the front of his pants, begging to be touched. Aaren whimpered and hid his face in his hands. Just that he was growing harder under Hades’ attention.
“What a good omega,” Hades rumbled.
Aaren peeked out through a crack in his fingers. “Really?”
“Yes.” Hades was still looking at Aaren’s crotch, a pleased smile playing on his lips. Ever so slowly, he trailed his fingertip along the edge of Aaren’s waistband, lightly stroking Aaren’s skin. Tingles skittered down Aaren’s nerves.
Then Hades hooked his finger into the waistband, and Aaren grew wet.
Is he going to pull open my pants? Am I going to let him?
What would it be like, letting this alpha see his hard, bare cock?
