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As he let out a loud bleat of nervous laughter, my insides fluttered. That was what I’d been both hoping and dreading he’d say.

I nodded calmly. “Of course. Good idea.”

“Was it okay?” he asked anxiously. “Last night? I didn’t just… ram my tongue in your mouth or anything, did I?”

A silent, shaky breath stuttered from my lungs. “No, you didn’t. It was…” Life-changing. Perfection. I’d never wanted to stop. “Perfect. You’re an amazing kisser, Lark.”

He flushed with pleasure, wings fluttering behind him. “Thanks. S-so are you.”

“But we should still probably practise more,” I said quickly, then cleared my throat. “Just… like you said, practice makes perfect.”

He nodded emphatically. “Yes. Yeah. Definitely. Um…”

We lapsed into silence, then simultaneously raised our cans to have a sip. He shifted a little in his seat, which made the stretched neckline of his sweater slip off one shoulder. My balls tingled, cock immediately beginning to firm up as I stared at that little patch of exposed skin. Smooth and pale blue, the bones elegantly prominent, the slope of his neck graceful and begging for my mouth.

I was suddenly very, very impatient to get started with our “lesson.”

“So I was thinking tonight,” I began, my voice raspier, “we’d cover erogenous zones.”

His breath hitched, but he nodded quickly, gazing at me with big eyes. “Okay.”

“A lot of them,” I added, watching him closely. “Which would mean getting naked. Are you comfortable with that? Because if not, we can do something else—”

“No, that’s… that’s fine,” he breathed, smiling shyly at me. “You’ve already seen my nub. Tail,” he amended quickly, flushing darker.

“Nub is a cute word for it.” I smiled at him. “It is a cute little nub.”

He huffed, hunching his shoulders as he flicked the ring pull on his can. “You don’t have to say that, dude.”

“I mean it. It’s sweet. I like it.” I grinned at him when he warily looked up. “I like that you have a tail to match mine.”

The tension bled from him as he laughed. “That’s true. We do match. When you’re half shifted, at least. Which is really cool,” he added. “I didn’t know werewolves could do that.”

I shrugged. “Not all of them can.”

He grinned at me teasingly. “I’m not surprised you can. You’re, like, the best at everything.”

“Except baking,” I reminded him.

He snuffled another laugh. “Yeah, but now you’ve got me to help you with that.”

I shoved back the rush of bittersweet sadness that tried to pierce my chest and grinned. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Which was another bad idea. Spending even more time with him, doing more things that made me yearn desperately for something I couldn’t have. Like spending lazy Sundays with him baking bread, just the two of us, hiding away from the rest of the world.

“We could make some now if you have yeast and stuff,” he said eagerly, then froze and huffed an awkward chuckle. “Oh no, wait, we’ve got our, um, lesson.”

My throat ached. “We can do whatever you want, Larkin.”

He nibbled on his lower lip, gazing at me. “I’d like to… Both sound fun. But… maybe we could make bread another time?”

I nodded and straightened. “Of course. So… do you want to get started now?”

“Y-yeah. Yes, please.” He nodded and gulped down some soda, then slid off the stool and fiddled with his sweater cuffs again, waiting for me to move.

I slowly rounded the island. “Couch or, uh, bed? Your choice.”

His breath caught, eyes darting down my frame before he glanced at the couch, then the stairs. “Um… maybe… bed? If that’s okay?”