Page 60 of Star-crossed Betas

“You called me 'babe',” he says, looking up at me, smug and happy. It might have been a momentary lapse in my judgement due to his enthusiastic blowjob, but even when I’m angry with him, even when he lashes out and hurts me, he’s still mine. I never really thought he cared much about the term ofendearment back when we were together, but it obviously meant more to him than I realised.

“Yeah, I called you 'babe'. Come here.” I pull him up to his feet.

Swiping my thumb along his bottom lip, where there are still remnants of my cum, I kiss him. His lips are soft and familiar against my own; it’s not a heated kiss, as we’re both spent. It’s a kiss that tastes a lot like a truce. I must be a masochist because it seems no matter how many times Connor swipes his claws at me, I always seem to end up crawling back for more.

I sigh deeply. I feel a strange mixture of resignation I can’t seem to keep him at arm's length, and relief I no longer have to.

“Nothin' says ‘welcome’ like a cummy doormat,” Cee says as we make our way inside.

Twenty-three

July 2022

Connor Kelly

Ican't help but grin like the Cheshire cat when I step into the kitchen. The coffee pot is still warm from when Fee made it, and there's enough coffee in it to fill my favourite bucket of a mug to the brim.

Although it's been several weeks since we made up, every morning that I come downstairs to find the coffee pot full, I'm flooded with relief. It's like a daily reminder that we're on the mend and we're going to be okay. Once I've added a splash of milk and half a sugar—I'm trying to cut down —I go in search of Fee in the living room.

“Mornin', love,” I say, pecking a chaste kiss on his soft lips.

“Morning, babe. What do you want to do today?”

“I'm plannin' to spend so long on the sofa that I merge with it.” Fee chuckles.

“Fine by me.” And then we smile at each other like the disgustingly besotted fools we both are.

Phoenix Campbell

“Do you love it yet?” Cee asks, nudging my paperback with his sock-covered foot. I’ve just started readingWolfsongafter he spent two weeks telling me it might possibly be his new favourite book of all time. I’m not a huge fiction reader, but Cee loves his books, and when I read the ones he recommends, it seems to make him happy.

“I’m only three chapters in; give me an actual chance to read some of it first,” I reply, pinching his big toe.

“Ouch! Fucker,” he whines at me. “Kiss it better.”

“You’re so annoying. Get your foot out of my face, or I’ll stop rubbing it.” He quickly puts his foot back into my lap and wiggles his toes. I go back to pressing my thumb into the arch of his foot, and he makes this contented rumbling sound in his chest.

I’ve never known a wolf that’s so cat-like. He’s practically purring at me. I’m pretty content at the moment myself, though. I wouldn’t say things with us are resolved by any stretch, but we’ve had a tentative peace for a good few weeks now.

We haven’t had full-on sex yet because every time we head in that direction, I can hear Cee's voice in my head calling it a 'bad decision', and I backtrack. Apparently, my brain doesn’t have the same negative associations with blowjobs and frotting, though, so it’s not as if we haven’t been having a good time.

It feels amazing to be back in a place where I can kiss him freely, and we exchange affection without a second thought.That said, we’re still treading quite carefully around each other in every other regard. One of the things I always loved in our relationship was feeling like we could tell each other anything. I felt so safe and secure with him I didn’t ever have to filter myself, and the last year and a half has left a mark on us both. I can tell we’re both terrified of accidentally rocking the boat, so we stick to safe topics at all times, and it’s starting to make me anxious. Our marriage won’t last if we don’t find a way to communicate without coming to blows.

How is it we’re now so bad at something we used to be so good at?

I move my hand up his leg and massage his calf muscle, earning me a satisfied little 'mmm' sound from his lips. Cee's reading an ARC ofMake Me Fallon his Kindle, and it seems to be getting him a bit hot under the collar because he keeps having to adjust himself in his shorts.

“Would you ever get your dick pierced?” he asks, seemingly out of the blue. I move my hand to cover my dick protectively.

“Absolutely not. Do not get any ideas,” I tell him, and he chuckles demonically. “Why do you ask?”

“One of the characters in my book has a Jacob’s ladder. Sounds pretty hot.”

“Good for him. I’m fairly sure fictional piercings hurt a lot less than real ones.”

“Aw. Is the big bad wolf scared of a little needle?” he taunts me.

“Near my cock? Most definitely.” Cee laughs and goes back to reading. This is how we’ve spent most of our Saturdays for the past few weeks. Except usually, we sit on a blanket in the garden. However, it’s pissing it down today; can’t beat a British summer…

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