Demarien panted and spread his legs wider when Boone’s finger pushed deeper.
The alpha’s lips trailed kisses along Demarien’s jaw, and he slid more fingers in, stretching Demarien before angling his hips and slowly sinking into him.
They moved slowly together, fitting like a dream. He clenched around Boone’s dick when he came, and his alpha groaned, pressing his face against Demarien’s neck before filling his ass with his cum.
They panted against each other, both wearing wide grins.
When he woke,the room was quiet except for the steady rhythm of rain tapping against the window. A soft lamp cast a warm glow across the bed, catching on the curve of Boone’s shoulder as he leaned back against the headboard.
Demarien sat up with a yawn and watched the alpha. There was something about the way Boone looked at him, open and certain, that made the rest of the world feel distant.
“You’re staring,” Boone said, a small smile forming.
“Yeah,” Demarien admitted, wiggling closer. “Just making sure you’re real.”
Boone reached for him, fingers brushing Demarien’s wrist before lacing their hands together. “I’m real.”
Demarien scooted closer until their knees touched. The contact was small, but it sent a quiet warmth through him. He lifted his free hand, hesitating just for a second before resting it against Boone’s cheek.
Their eyes met with a shared understanding.
When they kissed, it was slow at first. Careful. Like they were both learning something important and didn’t want to get it wrong. Boone’s hand slid up Demarien’s arm, pulling him closer, and the space between them disappeared.
Demarien let himself sink into the warmth, the closeness, the steady presence of someone who wanted him just as much as he wanted them. The tension he carried melted away. Boone was still there and wasn’t going to leave.
They broke apart only long enough to breathe, foreheads resting together.
“You okay?” Boone murmured.
Demarien smiled softly. “Yeah. More than okay.”
The rain kept falling outside, but inside, everything felt still, anchored in the way they held each other, in the quiet trust growing between them as they lay back together, wrapped in warmth and something deeper than words.
Chapter 11
Demarien’s kitchen smelled like garlic and butter, and steam curled lazily from a pot on the stove while the soft sizzle of chicken in a pan filled the quiet. He stood at the counter, sleeves rolled up, carefully slicing into a red bell pepper. His movements were practiced but unhurried, as he settled his nerves.
“Do you like the cottage’s kitchen?” Boone asked from the doorway, leaning against the frame. “It’s a lot smaller than the main house’s.”
Demarien didn’t look up. “I actually really like it. At the inn, I’ll be cooking for everyone, but here in this cozy spot, it’s just me and mine.”
“Do I count since I’m yours?” Boone asked, smirking.
“Absolutely,” Demarien said, finally glancing over with a grin. “I’ll cook for you every day if you let me.”
“Can’t say no to that.” Boone pushed off the doorway and wandered in, drawn closer by the warmth. He hovered near the stove, peering into the pan. “What is this supposed to be, anyway?”
“Chicken piccata,” Demarien said, turning back to his cutting board. “Or something close to it.”
Boone raised an eyebrow. “That ‘something close to it’ is doing a lot of work.”
Demarien nudged him lightly with his elbow. “You can either trust the process or stay out of the kitchen.”
“I’m just here for quality control.”
“Uh-huh.” Demarien slid the chopped peppers into the pan, and the sizzle sharpened. “Your only qualification is that you’re hungry.”
“That’s a strong qualification,” Boone said. “Highly motivated.”
