Valen caught that look. Smiled deviously. He pulled Sam against himself, murmuring against his cheek, “Harris does this thing in bed. Gets you down on all fours, pushes a couple fingers inside. Then he finds your prostate and fingers you hard and fast until you’re about to come... and then he stops. And he does that over and over until you’re shaking and you cream all over and you’re in heaven.”
“Valen!” Harris said. His own face heated. It was one thing to do that for a lover. Another thing to have your lover show you off.
Worse when he’d been thinking of this very omega, pinning Sam beneath him, tasting his skin.
“He’ll suck up all your come,” Valen continued, meeting Harris’ eyes. Bastard.
“He—” Sam gulped, sneaking a glance at Harris. Then he looked at Valen. “You’ve done that together?”
“All the time,” Valen growled. “Big H likes when I bottom for him.”
Harris couldn’t miss the musk coiling from Sam’s skin. Sam squirmed. They were doing so well with the class, too.
“If you aren’t cutting up that chicken, I am,” Harris said. “Don’t waste Sam’s time, V.”
Valen pulled away from Sam, sheepish. “Sorry.”
Sam flushed. “Right. The chicken.”
“I... kinda forgot what part of the chicken I take off first,” Valen said.
“That’s fine. I’ll teach you again.” Sam showed Valen the sharp and dull knives. Then he took Valen through the steps, one by one, and Harris couldn’t help noticing the way they worked together, heads bowed, their eyes serious.
Given the chance, they’d still be a great match.
Valen said something. Sam looked up, his eyes warm and bright, and something tugged in Harris’ chest.
If he could have them both... how would that even work?
“Are you mooning over Sam, Big H?” Valen asked, grinning.
Sam flushed, and Harris studied him. Could Sam be interested in someone like Harris? Harris was old, almost twice their age. Not the best option for a lover.
“You work well together,” Harris said.
“We’ll work even better with you.” Valen finished off the last of his chicken with a flourish, punching the air. “Where do I put my... chicken?”
Sam laughed. Harris rolled his eyes.
Sam took Valen through adding the spices, rubbing rosemary and sage into the wings, legs and thighs. Then they dropped the parts into the slow cooker and turned it on. Harris sliced the chicken breasts into strips.
“Mise en place is when you have all your ingredients prepped and ready to go,” Sam said. “That’s why we have the onions diced, the peppers julienned, and all the oils and spices in one place. So we can now focus on cooking.”
The rest of the lesson, Harris watched Sam. Some of Sam’s words lingered in his mind. The rest went out his other ear. He watched the way Valen stuck his hands in his own pockets, so he wouldn’t start fondling Sam. He watched as Sam tucked his hair behind his ear, smiling bashfully at Valen.
Sam grinned at Harris a couple times, too, and Harris remembered what it felt like to have an omega in his arms, smiling up at him like nothing else mattered.
Watching Sam, his chest ached.
As Sam sautéed the chicken strips in the pan, Valen leaned in, murmuring in Harris’ ear. “You look like you could use a Sam-hug.”
Harris lifted his eyebrow. “And not a Valen-hug?”
“Maybe both.” Valen grinned, slipping his arm around Harris’ waist. “Doesn’t the chicken smell great?”
“It does.”
“You’ll want to watch until the meat’s no longer pink,” Sam said. “That’s when it’s almost done. Then return the peppers to the pan and heat them through.”
“So is using store-bought tortillas cheating?” Valen asked, dragging Harris closer to Sam.
“It’s not cheating. As long as you get some food in your stomach, that’s good enough,” Sam said, smiling wanly.
What had Sam been through, that food-in-stomach was his goal?
Harris looked at Sam’s worn hands again, his short nails. His chest tugged. Sam needed more care than he seemed to give himself.
“I hope you’ve been eating enough for you and the baby,” Harris said.
“I have.” Sam blushed, glancing at his belly.
When Sam turned off the burner, Valen nosed his throat. “Is it over? The cooking class?”
Sam squirmed. “I... guess? I mean, there is still dishing the food, but we can save plating for another lesson.”
Valen growled, taking the pan off the burner. With his other arm still around Harris’ waist, he folded Sam between them, then gripped Harris’ hips, pulling them both snug against Sam.
Sam looked up at Harris, his eyes wide. He wasn’t leaning away, though, or turned off. Sam was looking at Harris like he thought Harris might do something to him, his chest frozen mid-breath.
So Harris pressed a kiss to Sam’s forehead, savoring the warmth of Sam’s body. Thought about protecting Sam, just holding him.
Sam smelled like dahlia, a faint hint of musk, and sandalwood.
“You comfortable with Valen marking you?” Harris asked.
Sam nodded against him. “No one minds at work.”
Valen squeezed Harris’ hip. “You never mark him, Big H.”
“It’s probably too soon,” Harris said. He’d thought about it. Never once imagined he was close enough to Sam. But if Sam wore his scent...
Something rumbled in his chest. He wanted an omega to protect. And Sam was carrying Valen’s baby.
“I don’t... don’t mind,” Sam murmured, pink fanning across his cheeks. “I don’t meet many people, anyway.”
Harris raised his wrist, his pulse skipping. Wouldn’t mean Sam was his, just that he was promising Sam his protection.
He dragged his wrist down Sam’s arm, a whisper of skin on skin. Valen growled. Then he drew his wrist down the same line, so their scents mingled. Sam blushed.
“We should, um, start on dinner,” he said. “It’s getting cold.”
Harris didn’t want to release him just yet. But as he wrapped his arm around Valen, sliding his fingers down Sam’s arm, he realized that wanting to see Sam safe, wanting to see him smile... that wasn’t normal.
Maybe he was falling in love with Sam Brentwood.
15
Sam
It was pouring when Sam
