Page 158 of Knot That Serious

“I know, I know. We kind of threw a wrench in it,” Jack said, huffing and running a hand through his hair. “But she’s going to talk to him tonight and I’m… well, I’m talking to you now.”

Beckett’s chest was too full suddenly, and he sucked in a shallow breath. “You both really worked things out?”

Jack nodded, a smile curling his lips and reaching his eyes. “Yeah.”

“And you’re a pack?”

“We’re a pack,” Jack said, and curled his arms over Beckett’s shoulders.

“And I’m not dreaming? I didn’t wreck us on the way here and this isn’t an injury-induced hallucination?” Beckett wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist, pulling him in close.

“Dark,” Jack mused with a frown. “I hope not.”

“Me, too,” Beckett admitted, staring up at him. Jack leaned into him and—

“I love you,” Beckett blurted. It wasn’t the first time he’d said it. But it was the first time the words sounded like forever.

“I love you, too,” Jack said. “Now will you please fucking kiss me, dude?”

Beckett wrinkled his nose at that word, but lowered his lips to finally slot them with Jack’s. It was so chaste and sweet at first, it made Beckett’s heart squeeze. But then Jack brushed his tongue against the seam of his lips and Beckett growled.

He pushed Jack back against the counter, caging him in with a hand on either side of him, holding the alpha in place. Jack opened for him, and their tongues twined. He imagined he could still taste Eli, wondered if she knew what was happening through their bond, and the breath went out of him. He laid his forehead against Jack’s and breathed, hands clenching at the countertop.

A rush of tears welled. “I am just so…” Beckett couldn’t even find the words. He pulled away and dragged his palms down his face. “Fuck.”

When he lowered his hands, Jack was beaming at him.

“Are you happy?” Jack asked, sliding his hands up Beckett’s chest, framing his jaw with warmth.

Once upon a time, Beckett couldn’t have answered it as easily, wouldn’t have known the answer so quickly. He’d been content with his direction in life. At least until the day Jack slammed into him and changed his entire trajectory.

“Yeah, I’m really, really happy,” Beckett said, nodding against Jack’s hands.

Jack pulled him even closer, positioned a thigh between his legs, and laughed. “I can tell.”

Beckett shrugged. “Can’t really blame me, can you?” he asked, and ground against him. Jack was hardening, too, the ridge of him felt through their pants, pressing into Beckett’s hip.

“Are we about to christen this fresh kitchen that doesn’t belong to us?” Jack asked, brow arched.

“It depends. How bad do you want me?” Beckett teased, a dark edge to his voice.

Jack’s eyes went half-lidded, and Beckett… well. He should’ve known better.

Jack’s hands dropped between them, fumbling at Beckett’s pants, then his own. Beckett chuckled, and waited until Jack’s pants and boxers were slipping down his hips to grab him under the thighs and hoist him up onto the bar.

“Woah,” Jack called out, hands scrabbling to steady himself. Once he was balanced, he yanked Beckett closer, framing him with his thighs.

Their cocks slid together.

“That’s more like it,” Jack drawled, and Beckett rolled his eyes.

Beckett pulled Jack in by a hand at the back of his neck, crushing their lips together. He lapped into his mouth and Jack opened for him so perfectly.

Jack’s hands clutched at Beckett's sides and back, urging him closer, closer. Beckett rutted into him, unable to find a steady pace, their cocks slipping together with no discernible rhythm.

Jack mumbled something into the kiss, but it was muffled and lost in the hairsbreadth between their lips.

"What?" Beckett asked, and pulled back, but was unable to stay away. He trailed his lips along Jack's jaw, nipping at his Adam's apple, his pulse. Until the collar of his shirt got in the way.

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