Page 137 of Night Call

“Cereal. Do you have cereal?” Pember squeaked.

Blake toed open a cupboard next to the fridge. “It’s probably stale as hell,” he said.

“Are those Coco Pops? And Frosties?”

Blake hummed. “No need to sound so judgemental.”

Pember laughed and wriggled out of his grasp. “I’m not. I just expected you to be more of a Weetabix kind of guy.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Brown, with the appearance and taste of cardboard?”

“Well, yeah, kind of. I just assumed with your heart condition you wouldn’t eat sugary things. This is borderline kids’ cereal.”

Blake laughed. “Would it surprise you to learn that I’ve been known to eat Pop-Tarts after midnight?”

It was entirely Oliver’s fault for introducing him to the realm of shit sugary snacks.

Pember chuckled, bending down to pull out both boxes and giving Blake a fantastic view of his arse. “That’s what happens when you work in Child Protection, I guess.” Pember sighed, glancing at Chester’s cage with a playful smirk. They’d met the previous night, and Chester had decided to wriggle up Pember’s sleeve almost immediately.

As they sat down to eat, Blake couldn’t help but admire how delicate Pember’s jawline looked when he chewed. The movement of his lips, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

How the scent gland on his neck was still pink and swollen and unbitten.

But, as his eyes trailed up Pember’s face, he realised the omega’s eyebrows were pulling tighter and tighter together.

“You’re worried,” Blake said, dropping his spoon into the bowl.

Pember looked up. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.”

Blake sighed, stretching his arms over his head. “Don’t be. Caitlin assured me we aren’t walking into anything unpleasant.”

“It’s not that,” Pember said, licking the milk off his lips. “They closed my lab. What am I going to do? I feel like they don’t trust me.”

Blake waved the comment away. “It’s not that. They’ve actually done the right thing for once. Having Falkington continuity check everything will stop you and the others being brought under suspicion.”

“Oh my God,” Pember said, dropping his spoon onto the table. “Do you think they’re going to find an issue with my work?What if they… Oh God, what if they suspend me? O-or sack me? We need to go, Blake. Let’s get in and?—”

“No.”

Pember stiffened. “No?”

Blake smiled broadly. “I saidno.”

“What do you mean,no?”

Glancing at the clock by the back door, Blake hummed. It was only seven. “I said we’re going in for normal office hours. I’ve given the police enough of my time over the last decade. I refuse to give them any more.”

“Yeah, but this is serious! People are dead. The inspector will?—”

“The victims aren’t getting any deader, and the inspector can wait. Since we met we’ve had to steal moments here and there when the job permitted. I’m sorry, Pem, but I refuse to go on like that. I want you to myself this morning.”

Pember’s fingers fidgeted in the fabric of his T-shirt, a pink blush creeping up his neck. Although partially blocked by the table, Blake could see him pressing his palm against his groin.

Blake stared at him, tapping a foot against the table leg and pushing his chair back. He slowly opened his own legs, revealing the stiffening erection inside his boxers.

“Come here,” he said, low and slow.

Pember’s nostrils flared. Blake expected him to get up, but instead he slipped off the chair and crawled under the table. He appeared between Blake’s knees, his dark hair falling into his face. Blake smirked and pushed his fingers through it.

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