Tank kissed Clover’s knuckles, his expression softening somewhat. “Just your lovely self.”
Clover’s insides melted, and he ran his fingers against Tank’s stubbly cheek. “Aww, Daddy, so romantic.”
Pyro snorted. “Won’t be so romantic when he has you deep throating.”
“Will be.” Clover stuck out his tongue and left for the kitchen before Pyro could pull him into more banter.
Drake didn’t even spare Clover a glance, too focused on the instructions Boar was giving him on the right way to skin a rabbit and prepare it for cooking. Drake took everything seriously and had this inner need to excel, so when Boar had started teaching the two of them the basics of hunting, Drake became obsessed with getting things right. All of Boar’s advice about the biggest part of hunting being the pleasure of being in nature went over Drake’s head. He wanted to win.
The serious expression on Drake’s face suited him, and Clover found him surprisingly sexy in Boar’s Clover eats first apron. He embraced him from behind and inhaled the peppery scent of his cologne. He must have showered not long ago, because his hair was loose and a bit damp.
Clover grazed Drake’s shoulder with his teeth. “You smell so fresh I could eat you.”
Drake didn’t even turn around. “Well, sorry, you’ll be eating rabbit.”
Boar laughed. “We’re not snowed in. We don’t have to eat each other just yet.” He was mixing a drink on the counter, and added a generous splash of vodka to finish the thing off. Pyro had to be doing better overall if he was allowed that much. Boar had always watched Pyro’s drinking habits, but it was drugs that were the biggest temptation.
“Boar! Where is that wood?” Pyro yelled from the living room.
Boar gave them the look. “Sorry, the king awaits. You know what you’re doing now?”
Drake nodded with brows drawn tightly together. He hated getting things wrong, so Clover didn’t disturb him and watched Drake season the meat, just enjoying the sight of his man cooking.
Drake was such a hottie. Long black hair, dark eyes with long lashes, and since he’d lost his tan, he now sported the pallor of a marble sculpture. The difference in skin tone only made watching him with Tank more arousing.
Drake glanced at him. “What are you grinning about?”
“Oh. I was? Just thinking.”
“Share.”
Clover shrugged. “You know me. Mind in the gutter. I was thinking back to watching you and Tank kiss in the morning. You got this cute flush.”
Drake frowned, but Clover knew there was no actual anger in the air. “I’m never cute.”
“I bet Tank thinks you’re cute.”
Drake threw a kitchen towel at Clover. “You know when Tank was cute? When I found him eating peanut butter out of the jar last night. He got flustered as if he’d been caught jerking off into it.”
Clover snorted. “It’s the arm. He can’t do as much as he’s used to, so he’s worried he’s gonna get fat.”
Drake shook his head. “Idiot. So what? If he gets fat, he gets fat.” A smile tugged at his lips. “I wonder how he’d look like with a bit of chub.”
Clover nudged Drake with his toe. “It’s nice to see the two of you so comfortable with each other.”
Drake washed his hands and put the rabbit into the oven for roasting. “You just say that ‘cause you’re a little perv.”
Clover shook his head. “Not true!” He pulled on Drake’s hand. “I’m a big perv who loves being hugged from both sides when he sleeps.”
Drake took off the apron, revealing the fitted black sweater that so beautifully showcased his broad shoulders and narrow waist. An array of emotion passed through his features within the blink of an eye. “It is nice to not tiptoe around touching each other anymore. Thank you for… encouraging me to talk to him, Clo.”
Warmth bubbled up in Clover as if he were a freshly opened can full of pride and joy. Drake had needed this. Clover hadn’t realized it before the night when Drake opened up to Tank, but the tension between the two of them subsided, replaced with an everyday tenderness that didn’t have to hinge on Clover being there. It was as if an unspoken undercurrent of emotion had been finally allowed to run free, and they were all happier for it.
Clover arched for a deep kiss he’d been waiting for, but then pulled on Drake’s hand, leading him back to the living room.
“Drake thinks you’re cute,” he told Tank with a grin, prepared for the loud slap to his ass.
“Sorry, Clover doesn’t know how to keep his mouth shut,” Drake said in a stern voice.
Tank cocked his head and gestured to his lap. Clover would be paying for his bratty comments with his ass. “Come here, boy. Have you been gossiping about me?”
Clover bit his lip, flushed at the prospect of spanking already. “Never.”