Page 24 of Knot That Serious

“Jack,” Beckett warned, lifting his other hand to wipe one of the stray tears from Jack’s cheek. “Fuck, you’re so—” he couldn’t even find the proper word, his thoughts all slow and sticky.

Jack hummed, and Beckett felt the sound in his throat, then dragged Jack a little closer, slid just that much deeper.

“So fucking good,” Beckett mumbled, and Jack’s eyes slid closed in bliss.

Seeing Jack like that, on his knees and swallowing around Beckett’s cock as if he’d rather be nowhere else speared him with a jolt, and Beckett’s hips surged off the couch.

“Jack, I’m—” Beckett warned him, but Jack dug his nails into his side again.

The bite of pain and the thought of Jack swallowing him deep ultimately made him crumble. It washed over him in a white haze, heat filling him in a dizzying wave as he came, spilling down Jack’s throat.

His fingers squeezed Beckett’s knot with each pulse, milking his release for every drop.

Beckett let his hand fall from Jack’s hair, heart slamming against his chest as pleasure receded.

In its afterglow he was struck with such a force of affection, he pulled Jack up off the ground and into his lap, crushing their mouths together.

Jack’s lips were red and hot and he even still tasted of him, but Beckett couldn’t have cared less. Moments passed and the kiss became less heated, and then finally, Beckett pulled away altogether, a string of saliva connecting them until it snapped.

“That was…”

“Good?” Jack suggested with a smug little grin.

Beckett let his expression speak for itself. “Don’t let it go to your head, now.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He blinked, slow and heavy, and Beckett glanced at the time. “Stay the night?” he asked, after seeing the late hour.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Jack said.

Beckett grinned. “Want a tour?”

The tour was simply leading Jack to his one bedroom, showing him the bathroom.

Beckett shut off the music while Jack was readying for bed, grabbed drinks for them, and made it to the bedroom just as Jack entered.

He dove beneath the covers without even needing an invitation, and Beckett chuckled fondly as he slid in beside Jack. He curled up close, laying his head on Jack’s chest and listening to his heart beat.

Then his eyes trailed to Jack’s left arm, resting innocently against the sheets.

“The eye is looking at me, Jack,” Beckett whispered, staring at the eyeball hidden within the rose.

“It is not looking at you!” Jack scoffed, and covered Beckett’s eyes with his hand.

Beckett chuckled and rolled over, pulling Jack across his chest this time. The other alpha grinned up at him. “Maybe it likes looking at you,” Jack said.

Beckett rolled his eyes. “It can look later.”

“Can’t really blame it,” Jack drawled.

Beckett glanced down at him, brow arched. The soft amusement on Jack’s face made him melt, and he stroked a thumb over his cheek, remembering the tears that’d escaped earlier.

“Glad you were late that morning,” he said, before he could overthink it.

Jack’s soft, curling smile told him it was the right thing to say. “Me too.”

5. Impressions

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