Connor and the Wolves - 28. The Sleepover

Connor wasn’t sure he ever wanted to eat fish again.
It tasted fine — no, great, even. He just couldn’t get the image of Soren scrambling fish brains out of his mind.
Sliding the fried tilapia across his plate, Connor snuck a glance at Soren across the kitchen table. Shit — the werewolf was staring at him, and his plate was licked clean.
“Does it taste alright?”
Soren’s velvet voice sent chills down Connor’s back. He nodded quickly, staring guiltily at the half-eaten fish.
“You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better,” Soren added awkwardly.
“No, it’s great. I just… I keep seeing you killing them, and it’s not doing any favours for my appetite,” Connor said.
“Oh. Right…” Soren frowned, staring at his empty plate. “It was hard the first few times for me. But when you get hungry enough…”
“You planning on starving your mate?”
It was meant as a joke. Connor swore he’d been joking. But Soren’s wince threw any idea of joking out the window.
“Hey, I really do like it,” Connor said. “Just… give me a bit to deal with my mind.”
“Okay.”
He had to admit, it was kind of cute seeing how concerned Soren was over his wellbeing. But through it all, there was a sense of hesitation, as though the werewolf were afraid of something. Given how he’d claimed Connor, Connor didn’t blame him for the nerves.
Maybe they both needed a change of topic.
“Are you going to Furred Freedom?” Connor asked
“Huh?”
“Furred Freedom. You know, the werewolf equality thing?”
“I’ve never heard of that before.”
“You’ve never heard of Furred Freedom, but you know about sunflower oil?” Connor shook his head. “How do you even make sunflower oil?”
“Mash the seeds into a near paste with a mortar and pestle, add a bit of water, then mash some more until the oil rises to the top.” Soren shrugged. “It’s easier than acorn milk.”
“Acorn milk?” Connor snorted. “You’re the kind of person who’d know how to get rid of a body, aren’t you?”
“I don’t have a pig,” Soren pointed out. A tiny smirk tilted the corner of his lip. “That’s the best way to get rid of a body so no one can find it.” He shrugged, carrying his plate to the sink. “But most of my research is on things that will help me survive. Like making sunflower oil, or repairing solar panels, or gutting animals.”
Connor grimaced at the reminder, staring at the fish on his plate.
“You don’t have to eat if you don’t want to,” Soren added, drying his plate. “I have some pie you can have instead.”
“Pie?” Soren was making sunflower oil and acorn milk. What kind of abomination would his pies be? Connor schooled his face into what he hoped was a neutral expression.
“Yeah, the Chonos and I did a pie swap a week ago. I haven’t finished the one they gave me yet.”
“Oh.” His relief wasn’t too obvious, was it? “Um…” Connor stared at his fish. An unwanted sense of responsibility washed through him — neither of his parents would approve of what he was contemplating. But then, his parents weren’t here. “Okay.” Guilt flooded him, and he hastily added, “I’ll finish this first.”
The fish sat on his plate, a threatening presence. Connor scowled at his opponent. It was a lot of food — the fish Soren had caught weren’t small. But Connor knew he’d never make it past more than a few bites. He would have to get a bit feral.
Taking a deep breath, Connor shoved the fish into his mouth. It melted over his tongue, and he bit the food in half. A minute of frantic chewing, fighting to keep bits from falling past his lips, and he swallowed heavily. Gulping down some water, he prepared to face the second half.
“You really don’t have-”
Chomp!
Connor gulped again, clearing his throat as the fish tumbled into his stomach.
“There!” he gasped out, slapping a hand on the table.
“That really wasn’t necessary.” Soren’s voice carried the slightest hint of a laugh. “I would have eaten it for you.”
Connor’s eyes widened.
“Yeah… you could have…” Shit, that would have been better. Soren already knew why he wasn’t eating; it wasn’t like Connor was proving anything by forcing the food down his throat. But at least he’d gotten a bit of mirth from the werewolf.
“I’ll get the pie,” Soren chuckled, grabbing Connor’s plate. “It’s banana cream.”
Connor smiled wanly. Banana cream… cherry would have been better. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain.

The sink shut off, leaving only the quiet hum of the fridge and the buzz of the kitchen light. Soren had already slid the pie back into the fridge, and Connor had licked the last crumbs off his fingers.
“So…”
“Do you like movies?”
Connor fought down a smirk. What kind of question was that?
“I get the feeling neither one of us gets out much,” he said. “Yeah, a movie would be nice.”
A nervous smile inched across Soren’s face.
“Okay. I’ll get my computer.”
He strode from the room, and Connor had to tear his eyes from Soren’s back. There was always something about a nicely sculpted back that got Connor going, even before he got to the ass. But he couldn’t let thoughts of sex overcome him; certainly not here, where Soren would smell every little change in his hormones.
Part of him welcomed the thought of Soren taking him. It was going to happen some day — unless they were religious about using condoms, Connor would be a werewolf. Besides, Soren was hot as fuck. It was already taking a lot of effort to resist being turned on by the werewolf. Sure, his parents would be beyond pissed if it ever came out that their son was a werewolf, or even dating a werewolf, but Connor was Soren’s mate. They were already past that point anyway. Why not just go all the way?
“No.” Connor shook a finger at his crotch. “Bad boy. We’re not doing that yet.”
“Did you say something?”
Connor jumped as Soren appeared in the kitchen door.
“Um… nothing important,” he said quickly. “Just… I talk to myself… sometimes. Takes the edge off my nerves.”
“Am I making you nervous?”
A light appeared in Soren’s eyes — hope? No, that was ridiculous. Why would Soren hope Connor was nervous?
“You’re going to make me nervous.” Connor shrugged. He wasn’t going to lie. “We’re new to this whole thing. Nerves come with the territory. It’s nothing I can’t handle.” He cracked a small smile. “Besides, if I tried to leave, the guard would get me. I’m pretty much stuck here.”
Soren stared at him impassively. Connor felt a brief flutter of panic — that was the second time his jokes had failed. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he get Soren to laugh?
Shit, what if he was wrong about all of this? Soren was a werewolf, but he hadn’t woken up planning to find his mate today. Maybe the werewolf didn’t actually want him here. All Connor really knew about him was that he was quiet and had a crush on Khurtschono. Did he resent Connor for taking Khurtschono’s place?
“Okay.”
That soft baritone murmur pulled Connor’s mind from his thoughts. Unfortunately, it yanked his mind straight into the gutter.
‘Purr in my ear like that…’
“I’ll go set the computer up then,” Soren continued, oblivious to Connor’s dilemma. Or at least, Connor hoped so.
The second Soren left the kitchen, Connor shoved his hand in his pants. He couldn’t go out there like this — even if Soren didn’t smell his arousal, there was no mistaking the tent in his pants. Heat flooded him as he tucked himself into his waistband. Flattening his shirt, he double checked everything, making sure nothing was obvious. Once he was satisfied, he followed Soren.
A river sprawled across the large tv in the living room. A triangular dorsal fin peeked out of the murky water, a black stripe running up the front edge. Under the surface, a thick grey body slid over the clouded bottom of the river.
“Is that a shark?” Connor asked as Soren tinkered with his laptop.
“Yeah. She was coming upstream to deliver her pups,” Soren replied. “This was about four years ago.”
“Wait… sharks live in the sea, don’t they? That’s like, nearly four hundred kilometres from here.”
“Bull sharks live in fresh and salt water. There have been reports of sharks as far inland as King’s Crossing, though that sighting was never confirmed,” Soren said, clicking away from the screensaver.
“Huh. Didn’t realise the Astar River ran that far north.” Connor scratched his head. “Fuck, I really need to pay more attention in class.”
The river turned into a web page — something about gifts for nekos. Soren clicked away quickly, avoiding Connor’s gaze. Shrugging, Connor sat on the couch across from the tv, and pulled out his phone. He spent a few seconds flipping through messages. One from River, asking how his races had gone. One from Emma, demanding he call her. Connor glanced at the time — that had been about an hour ago. He ignored it.
Opening PackTalk, he frowned at a private message from SharpCat.
“Don’t talk about money around him.”
That was it. Connor snorted softly, closing out of the app. Apparently she wasn’t as pissed as she’d seemed earlier. Or she’d gotten over it. Either way, at least Khurtschono was attempting to help Soren out. Or Connor. Both of them? He was going to go with both of them.
“Hey, wait a second.” Connor caught a grey flash from the screen. His eyes widened as Soren scrolled back. “Dogmeat?”
“Who?”
“Oh… Jason,” Connor corrected himself. “He’s a neko from my team.” The neko was standing in front of a smoking CeCe’s. “What the fuck happened?”
“It says someone threw an explosive into the restaurant… and he stopped the place from burning down.” Soren shuddered, glancing at Connor. “Is this a common thing with your friends?”
“Not that I know of. But he was taken by palace guards today. I wonder if this had something to do with that.”
Connor stared at the grey neko on the screen. A moment later, he shrugged. There was no solving this mystery, not tonight.
“What kind of movies do you like?” he asked instead.
Soren took that as an invitation to click away from the newsite.
“I don’t really watch a lot of movies,” he admitted.
Connor frowned as Soren pulled up a site he’d never heard of.
“Okay. Mind if I take over for a sec?”
Wordlessly, Soren scooted the laptop toward him and grabbed a bowl of acorns from a nearby table. Connor’s fingers flew over Soren’s keyboard, and in less than a minute, he’d logged into his Netview account, setting up a profile for Soren. How he would explain the profile to River was beyond him at the moment, but that was another problem for future Connor.
“Alright, why don’t we try something light?” Connor suggested. “No romance or anything.”
“Yeah,” Soren muttered.
“Do you like scifi?”
Soren shrugged, drilling a small hole into an acorn with a needle.
“Okay, we’ll try that then.”
Connor hit play and leaned back on the couch. He watched Soren for a moment, as the werewolf carefully pulled the meat from the acorn. It was such an intricate task, Connor didn’t want to disturb him, but weren’t they supposed to be watching a movie?
Soren tossed the empty acorn into a bowl full of water, keeping the meat in a separate bowl. He grabbed a second acorn, repeating the task as his eyes flickered between the movie and his acorn. Connor shrugged. Maybe he just had to keep busy somehow.
The space between them felt like an insurmountable gulf. Soren was tucked into the far end of the sofa, leaning away from Connor as though to give him more space. It lent weight to the thought that Soren didn’t actually want him here, but there wasn’t much Connor could do about that. Not now.
“I know werewolves get a bunch of shit for not controlling themselves, but you don’t have to fight this hard,” he said finally.
“Huh?” Soren winced as the needle pricked his finger.
“I mean, I’m not going to be mad if you cuddle with me,” Connor explained. “And I’m strong enough to say no if you go too far. You don’t have to fight yourself around me.”
Soren’s body relaxed. He scooted over an inch, so he was no longer squished between the arm of the sofa and the cushions. It still left a good metre between him and Connor.
“I’m sorry.” He tossed another acorn and reached for a third. “I’m not-”
“It’s the mate thing, isn’t it?” Connor interrupted. “Neither of us were really expecting this, and now we have to deal with being together. Yeah, I’m attracted to you, but it’s not like any of this was our choice, right?”
Soren nodded slowly.
“But I’m willing to make this work if you are,” Connor continued. He reached out, gently tugging Soren until the werewolf was laying across the couch, cushioned in Connor’s arm. “Can you work like this?”
Soren’s breath hitched. He shifted, adjusting until he was nearly curled against Connor. Their bodies pressed together, every inch of contact shooting electricity through Connor. Hesitantly, Soren nodded, his jade eyes exploring Connor’s face, looking for… something.
Connor swallowed dryly.
“If you’re uncomfortable,” he breathed, “just let me know.”
“I will.”

Something was shaking him.
Connor groaned as bright light filtered through his eyelids. Raising a hand half-heartedly, he swiped at the light, then rubbed his eyes. Cooking filled his nose… potatoes? Mixed with some sort of meat… bacon filled his mind. Almost a good enough reason to wake up.
Reluctantly, an eye opened. That wasn’t his ceiling….
His other eye shot open, and Connor glanced around groggily. A large man hovered over him, a cautious smile on his face.
“Good morning.”
Soren’s baritone was a good way to start the morning. Connor’s arms stretched out, and a joint popped.
“What time is it?” he muttered.
“Six. I tried not to wake you, but then I realised your food would get cold if I let you sleep.”
“Six on Ordyal morning?” Connor stared at Soren in disbelief. “You’re insane.”
Still, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed — no, couch — and worked his way to a stand. The laptop was gone, but an acorn bracelet sat in its place. It couldn’t be Soren’s. Connor hadn’t seen anything around the house that could be considered ornamental. Everything had a very utilitarian purpose.
“I washed your clothes,” Soren said, setting a plate on the table in front of Connor.
“You didn’t have to do that. I know it was probably rank-” Connor frowned as the words left his mouth. Right, werewolf. He wondered if his underwear was all there. “I mean… thanks.” He really should have washed his gym clothes on Urdyal. The mental image of Soren sniffing his underwear was surprisingly worth it though.
Connor quickly focused on breakfast, fighting off his erection. A pair of messy pancakes sat on his plate, with lumps of meat baked into them. The scent of warm potatoes wafted off the pancakes, and Connor arched an eyebrow. Potato pancakes… that was a first. Still, they’d probably be better than the acorn pancakes he’d expected at first sight.
“Need to use the bathroom,” he muttered, sliding the plate back.
He headed into the hall, pausing at the four doors that stood shut. Had Soren showed him the bathroom? He must have, but Connor’s sleep-addled brain was slow to remember.
Shrugging, Connor pushed the first door open.
A large bedroom greeted him. A king-sized bed took up most of the space, but a small door led to a walk-in closet, with another door opening into a spacious bathroom.
Connor’s eyes widened at the opulence — Soren was holding out on him. No… a layer of dust covered every surface in the room. No one had been here in ages. This wasn’t a case of holding out. It was a case of no one touches.
He started to back out when a fallen picture caught his eye. Crossing the room, Connor lifted the ornate frame. Under a thick layer of dust, a man and a woman stood in front of a young boy. Their eyes echoed their smiles, and their hands rested on the boy’s shoulders.
A small smile crept across Connor’s lips as he set the picture upright. Soren was adorable when he was younger.
“Please….”
Connor spun at Soren’s croak. The man held a haunted look in his eyes, staring past Connor.
“Please leave….”
“Sorry, I-”
Connor bit his tongue at the pained glare Soren gave. Ducking his head, he hurried from the room. The door clicked behind him, and Soren pointed toward the bathroom.
A minute later, Connor returned to the living room. He’d finished the pancakes by the time Soren finally emerged from the bedroom. Glancing away from the werewolf’s bare torso, Connor muttered another apology.
“It’s fine,” Soren said, taking the plate. “I thought I’d locked the door.”
“The pancakes were good,” Connor offered, following Soren to the kitchen. “Very unusual, but good.”
“Thanks.” Soren sighed as he dunked the plate in the sink. “I… um… they were the first thing I learned to make after… after my parents died. Easy. Just mash, make a ball, toss them in an oiled pan. Ten minutes to a side.”
“I’ll have to remember that.” Connor smiled wanly.
His phone buzzed, and Connor fished it from his pocket. His eyes widened again as a news alert flashed across the screen.
“No fucking way…”
“What?”
“Is your laptop still plugged in?” Connor demanded, wheeling back toward the living room.
“Yeah, why?”
“You should see this.”
Connor brought up the news with a quick search, and Soren turned on the tv with a frown.
“After a week of protests and violence, King Finley will step down, paving the way for Princess Amber to ascend to the throne.”
Soren stared at the screen. Turning his head, he frowned at Connor.
“This is important.”
“Yeah, it’s pretty fucking important.” Connor laughed mirthlessly. “The elves ousted a neko king from power. That’s unheard of in modern history.” He checked his phone — he could expect a call from his mother any second now. “I need to get home. Mom’s gonna be upset as it is that I wasn’t home last night. This is just going to make it worse.”
“Okay. I’ll walk you to the bus stop,” Soren said. “Give me a second to get a shirt on.”

Birdsong trilled bright and clear as the two trudged through the woods. Connor fought a wince every time Soren stepped. The werewolf was barefoot, and Connor could only imagine the agony his feet must be in. Yet Soren didn’t seem to mind the sharp rocks.
It took ten minutes to reach the bus stop. Ten minutes of awkward silence. Even after spending all afternoon and night with Soren, Connor wasn’t sure how to talk with him. He just contented himself with gazing at the trees as they passed. The morning light mixed with the dawn chorus to offer an almost magical feel to their walk that warred with the heavy silence between the two humans.
The burbling river fell away as a car passed ahead. Soren held back a branch for Connor and they emerged on the side of the road. Jogging across the asphalt, the two paused beside a bench. Connor glanced at a sign — three minutes before the next bus to the city.
“Well… um… thanks for having me over,” he said finally, turning toward Soren.
“It was no problem,” Soren said, staring at his feet. “Uh… I… I enjoyed it, actually.”
He shoved his hand into his pocket.
“Here.”
Grabbing Connor’s hand, Soren slipped the acorn bracelet onto his wrist. Connor stared at the bracelet, letting the acorns tap quietly against each other.
“I thought this was for Khurtschono,” he said, looking up at Soren. “I mean, your computer-”
“No.” Soren shook his head. “I wanted to do something for her, but the acorns weren’t for that. This was for you.”
He spent hours sticking a needle in the acorns, digging out the meat, cleaning and stringing them, for Connor? Connor shook his head. No one had ever done something like that for him before.
“Thank you so much,” he breathed.
His breath caught as Soren leaned toward him. Were they about to kiss? They’d already kissed — twice — but that didn’t count. Did it?
A bus hissed. Connor remained frozen. He gazed up at Soren — not meeting his eyes; even now he couldn’t meet the werewolf’s eyes.
“I’ll see you next Varyal,” Soren murmured, stepping back.
“Wait-”
Before he could move away, Connor threw his arms around Soren, pulling him close. Their bodies melted together, and for the first time, Connor got to feel the werewolf’s muscles pressing against his body. He could definitely get used to this.
But all good things had to end.
Releasing Soren, Connor stepped back.
“Yeah, see you next week.” He smiled, backing up toward the bus.
Climbing onboard, he slipped a copper into the till before claiming a seat. Resting his forehead against the window, Connor watched Soren jog across the road.
He didn’t know why he was a werewolf’s mate. He didn’t know how he would ever tell his family. But Connor was certain that he would find a way to make this work.