Page 25 of Jack of All Trades

“I had…I had a dog once,” he started, making Jack want to punch him.

“A dog? What the fuck does that have to do with anything?”

“When a bitch in heat came into the yard, Jack…they mated and…he got stuck inside of the bitch. Jack…I’m stuck,” he said, his voice returning to normal except for the fear. His fear caused Jack’s to ramp up until his heart pounded a million miles an hour.

“Maltin, are you telling me you…are stuck up my ass?”

Maltin wrapped his arms around Jack’s chest and held him lovingly. Jack didn’t know he had that kind of emotion in him. “I think I am, and I’ve heard of this with certain shifters.”

“I haven’t! I’ve been with a thousand shifters in this town, and they never…gotten stuck!”

“Jack, first of all, don’t ever remind me of your former profession. Ever. Secondly, don’t freak out because the moreyou move, the more it will hurt. It’s called knotting, and it’s perfectly…perfectly normal.”

Jack’s mind spun around a few times but he stayed as still as he could. That was getting hard, too, being Maltin was cooing to him, kissing his neck, trying to calm him.

“It’s okay, baby, just be mellow, stay still. You’re gonna be fine. I’m going to make sure of it. Nothing will ever hurt you again.”

Those words, how he’d longed for those words his entire life. All those nights alone, the nanny was putting him to bed, and there was no kiss from his mother or bedtime story from his father. Maltin was holding him, and Jack believed him. It was like the words seeped into his pores and traveled to his heart.

“You’re mine, Jack. I’m so happy you’re mine.”

Tears were falling from his eyes, burning his cheeks, but he couldn’t stop them. It felt like they’d been stored inside him for years, waiting for Maltin to release them.

“Maltin?”

“Yes, Jack?”

He didn’t know what to say. He only knew his emotions were churning, his heart full for the first time in his life. “Don’t…hurt me.”

“Never. I’ll never hurt you. I won’t let anyone hurt you. I swear it.”

When his cock shrunk back to normal and as Maltin pulled out of Jack, Jack turned in Maltin’s arms and was asleep instantly.

He was still in Maltin's arms when he woke from a dreamless sleep. Maltin was sleeping, his head sunk in the pillow, and a little smile was on his lips. Jack tried to move, but Maltin’s hold on him was tighter than he’d thought.

When he could get free, he padded to the bathroom that lay down the stairs, and once he relieved himself, he looked in the bathroom mirror, seeing that he didn’t have a scratch on him. “Damn. He’s gonna be cranky about that,” he said with a hugesmile. Jack also noticed the shirt still hung around his neck by the collar, though the shirt itself was in ribbons. After discarding that, he washed up, wishing he had a toothbrush.

He looked through the cabinet above, then under the sink, but found none. Then, luckily, in the linen closet outside the bathroom, he found one and used it, parking it next to Maltin’s in the metal holder on the wall.

That was the first time he was able to stroll casually through the house, and though he felt like some creep being nosy, he thought it helped him get to know his mate.

There was art stacked in a staggered array near the big windows in the living room. Jack walked over to it and flipped through it, seeing pictures of the countryside, abstract splashes of paint, and a lake scene where a man sat on the shore, staring at the sunset, all alone.

Jack knelt on the floor before it, his heart hurting for his mate. In all the paintings, he learned more about Maltin than he had, and this one painting said so much.

He liked being alone, but why? He enjoyed the beauty of nature, of colors, of serenity. Jack knew why. He hadn’t found anyone who could share that with him so he could enjoy it alone.

A man like Maltin didn’tneedanyone to share that beauty with. He was comfortable alone, appreciating things most people took for granted. Maybe decades of being alone gave him that appreciation, but regardless of how he got there, he owned it.

Jack didn’t want Maltin to need him. Maltin should want him. And, for all he’d felt so far, he did.

Jack was his mate. It was so obvious after everything in the last couple of days, and yet Maltin wasn’t pushing him away to be alone. Was it possible that Jack was the one he was supposed to share things with?

He hoped so.

In the kitchen, Jack made himself coffee once he found the French press. As he waited for the coffee to brew, he looked in the fridge, laughing as he saw the perfect single servings of things in small glass containers labeled with the plastic ribbons of a label maker.

The cabinets were all neat, each can, or bottle lined perfectly, with their labels out. Then, Jack worried about Maltin liking things so organized. Jack didn’t consider himself a slob at all, but he wasn’t as compulsive as Maltin. How would he ever get used to Maltin’s ways? How would Maltin get used to Jack’s?

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