In the Arms of the Beast (Kings of Hell MC 5)

At first he thought Laurent was only using the bathroom, but when the distant doors closed, he realized his husband left the apartment. What a shame.

Perhaps he was hungry after the long, eventful night fueled by the need to reconnect that still lingered between them after they’d talked things through in the playground. It had allowed Beast to forget how much still needed to be done about the trees.

Beast didn’t want to worry Laurent with problems he could do nothing about, especially after Nick had gotten hurt in the disastrous attempt to weaken the trees. Laurent had a tendency to recklessness when he believed he was right, so despite initial pushback Beast was glad he had the café job to keep him busy. Beast didn’t want Laurent anywhere near those demonic trees after seeing what the sap inside them could do.

He found it strange that Laurent hadn’t changed into day clothes before leaving their apartment, when usually he was very conscious of such stuff. ‘Propriety’ he called it. Beast snorted, rolling his head on the pillow.

He dragged himself out of bed, took a quick shower and was already grabbing a T-shirt when Laurent stormed back into the apartment, huffing in annoyance. Through the gap left by the bedroom door, Beast heard the unmistakable crack of a can opening.

But instead of padding around in anticipation of his breakfast, Hound dashed into the bedroom and stared at Beast, his body rigid as if he’d spotted an intruder and couldn’t be bothered with mundane things like delicious meat chunks in jelly.

“What’s up, buddy?” Beast asked, adjusting his clothes. Beyond the open door, Laurent glared their way while spooning dog food into Hound’s bowl. His movements were jerky and tainted by impatience, but regardless of Laurent’s apparent annoyance, all Beast saw was the frizzy locks of hair creating a halo around his husband's head and the pert shape of his ass in the tight pajamas.

It made a wonderful picture already. And underneath the soft pants? Sweet like a peach.

“He’s being a pain, so don’t be so nice to him. All needy and annoying. He ripped my pajama and growled at me.” Laurent reluctantly placed the bowl on the floor, but there was no reaction. Strange. Hound was one of those dogs who needed their portions controlled—a difficult feat in a house full of people.

Beast patted Hound’s head and scratched him behind one of his ears. “Why would you do that?”

Hound let out a sharp bark and moved behind Beast before shoving him forward with all the strength he had. “Whoa. When did that start?” Beast asked.

Laurent crossed his arms on his chest. “In the kitchen. I’ve always considered cooking women’s work but noticed at the café how men prepared food and didn’t consider it strange at all. Even Elliot makes those silly sandwiches of his, so I wanted to make you breakfast, and he spoiled everything.”

He was adorable. The reason for Laurent’s absence in the morning was adorable.

Beast pulled Laurent close and kissed the top of his head through the fuzzy hair. “Oh, come on. Let’s just make it together. There can’t be many people down there after last night’s craziness.”

Laurent hugged Beast and pressed his cheek to the soft fabric over Beast’s pec. “No, it’s deserted. You must promise to let me do everything on my own.”

Beast laughed. “Fine. He can eat with us downstairs. I bet that whatever you’re planning to make will be the best breakfast of my life. You know, right after your famous Pop-Tarts,” he said, taking the dog bowl from the floor and making his way to the exit. He still remembered how excited Laurent had been when he first learned to make things in the toaster.

Laurent frowned, leading the way. “Are you mocking me? If you wish to know, I have obtained a very good pancake recipe, and I have no doubt I will succeed, because baking requires skills I have plenty of—diligence, accuracy, and attention to detail.”

Beast shrugged as they made their way downstairs, occasionally disturbed by Hound, who kept standing in their way or making noise like the worst of pests. “I never had baked pancakes. Wouldn’t that be like an omelet or pie?”

Laurent stalled with the answer. “I’m… not sure. They require frying, but they are sweet, so I think they exist in the realm of ‘baked goods’.”

“Fuck me! Beast? Is that you?” Knight yelled when they got close enough to the kitchen to hear him. His tone was alarming enough, but when they spotted Xavier’s Moses basket at the door and heard him squeal, the mood sobered.

Beast’s heart sped up, and he ran into the kitchen, instantly assaulted by the dense smell of gas. Knight stood on a chair, yanking at the old window, which was jammed by rust, so Beast put down the dog bowl and joined him, climbing to the windowsill and pulling on the handle.