Ch. 06 Homecoming

Content warning: "Feminine" words are used to describe the trans man's genitalia. If this is not your thing please move on.

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It had been almost a month since Wolf first met Tristan. The days were longer now, heavier with sun and the smell of salt in the wind. Marseille was warming up. The dogs had started shedding in earnest, leaving trails of fur along the tile floors.

Wolf stood at the sink, sleeves pushed up, washing out an old terracotta pot. His camera bag lay open on the table behind him--he'd started carrying it again. Not just for comfort now, but because the light, people and scenry here pulled at him--it stirred something.

He'd begun shooting again, slowly at first, then with the quiet urgency of someone waking up. Intimate still lifes appeared around him like offerings: a half-eaten fig on a chipped plate, Anna's bra hung over a garden chair, the dogs curled together in late-afternoon light. He photographed their bodies, their home, the queer community that welcomed them like they'd always been here. Nothing posed, nothing precious. Just moments, tender and alive.

Anna had left early for a meeting at the museum. She'd kissed his shoulder, murmured something sweet, and disappeared in a blur of silk and worn denim. The soft click of the door had echoed through the quiet house like punctuation.

Now he was alone, up to his elbows in dirt and soap and sun.

It felt strange, how settled everything had become in such a short time. Strange and good. He wasn't quite sure what to call it yet.

The night after the playroom--Tristan hadn't said much. Just a look, a kiss to the back of Wolf's neck, and the understanding that some things didn't need to be picked apart immediately. And Anna... she still didn't know, though that wouldn't last. Not with the tape.

It was her, actually, who'd shown his photographs to someone at her gallery. Just casually, over wine, as she always did. And now there was an offer--a one-year residency in a shared atelier just outside the city centre. A real one. With a stipend, studio space, exhibitions, a monthly compensation coming from susbsidies. The kind of thing that didn't come by accident.

He hadn't said yes yet. But he hadn't said no.

What had really startled him was what she'd said after. "If you stay, maybe we could find a place. Something small, with a garden. The dogs would like it."

Like it was that simple. Like it could be.

A key turned in the lock. Wolf turned, heart ticking, expecting Anna back early. But it wasn't her.

Tristan stepped into the kitchen, sunglasses pushed up in his hair, curls wild, wearing a threadbare tank top and cargo shorts. He looked sun-drenched and out of place in the quiet. He held up a paper bag.

"Got the bread you like."

Wolf wiped his hands on a towel. "Thanks."

Tristan shrugged, grinned. "You looked like someone who needed carbs and a joint. And maybe to talk about the fact that you're turning into a domestic artist househusband."

Tristan shrugged, grinned. "You looked like someone who needed carbs and a joint. And maybe to talk about the fact that you're turning into a domestic artist househusband."

Wolf huffed a laugh, drying his hands on a tea towel. "You say that like it's a bad thing."

"It's not," Tristan said, already setting the bag on the table and pulling out a baguette, still warm. "You look good like this. Soft. Sun-kissed. Borderline smug."

Wolf raised an eyebrow. "Smug?"

Tristan smirked. "The kind of smug that comes from good sex and decent sleep and someone making your coffee just the way you like it."

He wasn't wrong. It showed in Wolf's face, in the way his shoulders sat lower now, less burdened. In the curve of his mouth when he smiled without thinking.

"You're not jealous, are you?" Wolf teased, leaning against the counter, watching him.

Tristan made a low noise, ambiguous. He pulled out a joint from his back pocket and lit it without answering right away. After a moment, he exhaled slowly, eyes flicking to Wolf's.

"Not of her," he said. "I like watching you become yourself."

That quieted them both for a beat.

Wolf looked down, the words catching in his chest, sticking somewhere tender.

"I don't know what I'm becoming," he said finally, voice low.

Tristan passed him the joint. "Sure you do. You just haven't named it yet."

Wolf took a long drag, letting the smoke settle in his lungs. The breeze stirred through the open kitchen door, carrying in the scent of jasmine from the courtyard.

"I might stay," he said, not looking at Tristan. "The residency. Anna found it for me."

"She believes in you," Tristan said simply.

Wolf nodded. "It's not just that. She said... if I stay, maybe we could find a place together. Something small. With a garden."

Tristan leaned back in his chair, one leg hooked over the other. "Do you want that?"

Wolf looked at him then, the question lingering longer than it should have. He didn't answer right away. Maybe because he already knew. Maybe because he wanted Tristan to ask again--slower, deeper.

"Yeah," he said at last. "I think I do."

Tristan didn't say anything right away. He just nodded, like he'd known the answer all along. He tore off a piece of bread, chewed it slowly, watching Wolf over the rim of his thoughts.

Wolf took another drag from the joint and let his voice go quiet. "And you? You've been... different since the club."

Tristan arched a brow. "Different how?"

"I don't know," Wolf said, exhaling smoke as he handed the joint back. "Lighter, maybe. Or like you're holding something close and not sure if you want to let it go."

Tristan gave a soft huff through his nose and looked away. The corner of his mouth tugged up, but it didn't quite become a smile.

Wolf leaned against the counter again, arms folded. "Is it Ilias?"

Tristan didn't flinch, but the way his fingers stilled on the paper bag said enough.

"He stayed last night, didn't he?" Wolf asked, gentler now.

"Yeah," Tristan said. "Couple times already, actually."

Wolf nodded, watching him. "You like him."

Tristan looked up, face open in a way Wolf rarely saw. "I do."

It hung there for a moment--bare, unguarded.

"He's got this way of looking at me," Tristan went on, voice lower now, almost thoughtful. "Like he sees through all the sharp edges and just... stays."

Wolf smiled softly. "Sounds familiar."

Tristan glanced up, their eyes meeting. Something passed between them--fondness, memory, the unspoken bond that still tied them together, however differently now.

"It's not like us," Tristan said. "Not the same shape."

"I wouldn't expect it to be," Wolf said. "But I hope you let it grow. He seems good for you."

"He is," Tristan admitted, quieter than before. "He asks questions I don't know how to answer. But I want to."

Wolf pushed away from the counter, walked over, and rested a hand lightly on Tristan's shoulder. "That's a good sign."

Tristan looked up at him, smile softening. "Yeah. I think it might be."

Tristan tossed his crust into the garden for the birds and brushed the crumbs from his fingers. "You've gotten soft," he said, teasing. "Domesticated. What would past-Wolf say?"

"He'd be too busy brooding in a field somewhere to care," Wolf said, smirking. He stretched his legs out under the table, his foot brushing Tristan's. Neither of them moved away.

"You really like her, huh?" Tristan said, more gently this time.

Wolf hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah. I really do."

Tristan smiled, but there was a quiet weight behind it. "She's good for you. Doesn't mean I'm not still a little jealous."

Wolf's gaze sharpened at that. "Of her? Or of me?"

Tristan leaned back in his chair, arms spread lazily along the top rail. "Both."

That pulled a laugh out of Wolf, low and rough. "You're such a menace."

Tristan winked. "You wouldn't have it any other way."

Wolf stood, shaking out his shoulders. "I'm gonna grab something to drink--want anything?"

"Surprise me."

Wolf walked back toward the kitchen, barefoot, shirt clinging lightly to his back with heat and sweat. Tristan stayed behind for a moment, watching the sway of his hips, the ease in the way he moved now. Softer, but still sharp underneath. Still Wolf.

He waited until he heard the fridge open before getting up, quietly following the sound of clinking bottles and low music humming from the little speaker by the sink.

Wolf didn't hear Tristan approach until he was already there, stepping in behind him with quiet confidence, heat radiating from his chest to Wolf's bare back. A warm hand traced up his spine, settling between his shoulder blades with a soft press that made him shiver.

"You want another hit?" Tristan murmured, voice smooth and low like velvet dragged across skin.

Wolf parted his lips in anticipation as Tristan slid a joint between them. The lighter flicked, flame briefly catching the golden tips of Tristan's curls. Wolf inhaled deep, the smoke dragging him further into that soft, blissed-out haze he'd been floating in since the sun had started to sink.

As he exhaled slowly, Tristan's free hand skimmed down his side, then wrapped around to stroke the line of his ribs, his thumb grazing just under his breast. Wolf arched back into him instinctively, his ass grinding against the solid heat behind him. He could feel it--Tristan already hard, already waiting.

He let his head fall back against Tristan's shoulder, his mouth curling in a slow, wicked grin. "Yes please, daddy," he whispered, his voice sweetly filthy.

Tristan growled, quiet but sharp. "Such a needy little slut."

There was no rush--only the slow, deliberate movement of Tristan pushing Wolf's pants down just enough to bare him, to expose that wet heat between his legs. Wolf leaned forward slightly, bracing his hands on the low windowsill, exhaling as he felt the thick head of Tristan's cock pressing in.

The stretch made him gasp. It was slow--agonizingly slow. Tristan sank in inch by inch, one hand on Wolf's hip, the other spread possessively over his lower stomach.

"Fuck," Wolf groaned, eyes fluttering shut. The intrusion wasn't brutal--it was intimate, reverent, like Tristan was savoring every second of being inside him.

"I missed this pussy," Tristan breathed against the shell of his ear, moving with a pace that bordered on torturous. "I missed how greedy she gets. Look at you already clenching down like you can't wait."

Wolf moaned. "I can't. I need it."

Tristan fucked him with a maddening rhythm--slow, smooth, each thrust angled just right to make Wolf's whole body thrum. Wolf's arms trembled with the effort to stay upright, his lips parted in a constant stream of sighs and soft cries.

The orgasm built gradually, creeping up from deep inside, and when it hit, it rolled through him like a wave--long, warm, almost unbearably tender. He came with a breathy whimper, collapsing forward onto his elbows, muscles fluttering around Tristan's cock.

But Tristan didn't move. He stayed inside, still and thick and pulsing.

"You know what I want, right babe?" he whispered, nuzzling into Wolf's neck. His voice was low, reverent, intimate. "You know what this slut cunt's for."

Wolf's breath hitched. A lazy, seductive smile tugged at his lips. He gave a slow, purposeful clench around Tristan, then another, rhythmically working his walls around the cock still seated deep inside.

Tristan hissed through his teeth, fingers digging into Wolf's hips. "That's it. Milk me, sweetheart."

Wolf kept going, soft moans spilling from his mouth as he pulsed around him, coaxing the orgasm out of Tristan with obscene control. When Tristan finally groaned and thrust once, hard, coming deep inside him, Wolf could feel the heat of it flood his pussy, filling him completely.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies locked together, breathing tangled.

Then, carefully, Tristan pulled out. He crouched behind Wolf, spreading him gently, admiring the slick mess. He leaned in, kissing the soft folds, then licked him clean with quiet reverence. Each kiss was slow, delicate, an unspoken thank-you.

What they hadn't noticed--lost in heat and rhythm and the quiet afterglow--was that Anna had come home.

She stood just inside the hallway, barefoot, one hand still wrapped loosely around the strap of her bag. Her breath was shallow, eyes wide and dark, lips parted. She hadn't meant to intrude, not exactly--but the door had been unlocked, the dogs out back, the smell of sex thick in the air the moment she stepped in.

And then she'd seen them.

Tristan crouched between Wolf's thighs, reverent, slow, his mouth soft with devotion. Wolf still trembling, bent over the windowsill, fucked open and slick, his flushed body catching the last light spilling in from the garden. The low hum of pleasure still clung to both of them, skin glowing with sweat and want.

She couldn't move. Couldn't look away.

Wolf shuddered as Tristan's tongue dragged over his sensitive slit, one last lingering kiss placed low against the curve of his ass. He sighed, a sound that was all surrender, all bliss.

Then he turned slightly, just enough to catch movement--eyes flicking up, breath catching sharp in his throat.

He froze.

Anna stood there, quiet, composed, cheeks a little flushed but eyes calm. Curious. Hungry.

A slow smile tugged at her mouth. "Don't stop on my account," she said softly.

Wolf flushed deep red, a thrill of embarrassment and arousal crashing over him all at once. "Anna--fuck--I didn't know you were back."

"I gathered." Her voice was warm, amused. She stepped forward slowly, letting her gaze drift over them both. "Did you two start without me?"

Tristan looked up from where he was still kneeling, licking his lips slowly. "Just keeping your boy entertained until you got home."

Anna set her bag down on the counter, deliberately slow, eyes never leaving them. "I could watch you all night," she said. "But I think I want a taste too."

Wolf whimpered, his knees nearly giving out.

Tristan chuckled, low and fond. "She missed you."

She crossed the room quietly, gaze moving over them with that familiar blend of curiosity and heat, but there was no judgment in her expression.

When she reached Wolf, she touched his cheek first, her thumb grazing the edge of his mouth. She leaned in, kissed his temple. "You look amazing," she murmured. "But you smell like sweat and sex. Come shower with me?"

Wolf blinked up at her. "Yeah."

She smiled again, brushing her fingers through his hair. "We can talk in there. I missed you."

Behind them, Tristan stretched as he stood, tucking himself back into his shorts without fuss. "I'll clean up here," he said, grabbing the towel from the counter. "You two go... rinse off the filth."

Anna gave him a look--fond, teasing. "Thanks. There's wine in the fridge if you want some."

"I'll make a spritz," he said, already heading toward the sink.

Wolf let Anna guide him gently by the hand, the low throb between his legs still tender, the heat of everything that had just happened still clinging to his skin. She didn't say anything as they walked down the hall, but her thumb kept stroking over the inside of his wrist.

Once inside the bathroom, she turned on the water, let it run warm. Then she began undressing him with quiet care, peeling his shirt away, easing down the rest. She didn't ask what had happened or why--she just touched him like he was something treasured. And when he reached for her, she let him undress her too, layer by layer.

The water poured in steady streams over their skin, the quiet hiss of it filling the small tiled space. Anna's hands moved in slow circles across Wolf's back, slick with soap, and he leaned into her touch like it anchored him.

"You seem different here," she said after a long moment, her voice low and reflective. "Lighter. Even when you're tired."

Anna studied him for a moment, brushing her thumb gently under his eye. "Have you decided yet?"

He didn't have to ask what she meant.

"I think I want to say yes," he said quietly. "To the residency. A year here. A studio, space to work... it's everything I was afraid to ask for."

She smiled, but it was tinged with something vulnerable. "And what about us?"

He stepped closer, hands smoothing over the curve of her lower back. "I want that too. You." He swallowed, eyes searching hers. "When you said we could look for a place... were you serious?"

"I don't say things I don't mean." Her voice softened. "I'd love to live with you, Wolf. A house with a little garden. Big windows. Books everywhere."

He smiled, the image blooming in his mind like something he'd been secretly craving. "And dogs underfoot."

"And Tristan three doors down, letting himself in uninvited."

They both laughed, leaning into each other.

Then quieter: "It's a big step," Wolf said.

"It is," she agreed. "But I want it, I want you."

The silence that followed was full of certainty. Wolf tilted his head and kissed her--slow, warm, without urgency. Just gratitude. Just promise.

When they pulled apart, he rested his forehead to hers again.

"Let's do it," he whispered.

Anna smiled, radiant. "Good. Because I already started bookmarking listings."

Anna reached for the soap again, but Wolf caught her wrist gently, guiding it away. His other hand slid low, trailing over her hip and dipping between her legs without warning. She gasped, hips twitching, and he just smiled--slow, cocky, warm with mischief.

"You're not the only one who can be in charge," he murmured, fingers gliding up to graze her clit, featherlight. Just enough to make her jolt.

Anna narrowed her eyes at him, but the heat in her gaze betrayed her. "Oh?" she breathed.

"Mhm." He leaned in, lips brushing the shell of her ear. "You've had your fun watching. Now it's my turn."

His fingers slipped lower, slow and deliberate, teasing her slick entrance before dipping inside--just two fingers, curling in a way that made her whimper, unguarded and beautiful.

He didn't fuck her with them. Just kept them there, letting her pulse around the intrusion, while his thumb returned to her clit, circling, then pressing, then retreating again until she whimpered in frustration.

Her breath hitched, body tensing under the warm cascade of water. She tried to grind into his hand, but he stilled her with a firm grip to her hip.

"Easy," he whispered, smiling against her cheek. "You don't come until I say so."

"Wolf--"

He cut her off with another slow swirl of his thumb, keeping her teetering at the edge, needy and panting.

And then, with his fingers still resting against that throbbing, slippery knot of her clit, he said casually, "Come on. Let's get dressed and have a drink with Tristan."

Her eyes flew open. "You little--"

He kissed the corner of her mouth, fingers giving her one last teasing stroke before pulling away.

"To celebrate," he added, grinning as he stepped out of the shower, completely unhurried, as if he hadn't just wrecked her composure. "The good news deserves bubbles."

Anna stood there a moment longer, stunned and aching, before muttering under her breath and grabbing a towel to follow.

"You're so dead," she called after him.

"Better hurry, then," he called back, laughing. "Wouldn't want to keep our girl waiting."

Anna chased Wolf out of the shower, her laughter echoing through the hallway. "Get back here, you smug bastard!" she called, eyes gleaming with mischief.

Wolf ducked around the corner, towel barely hanging onto his hips, water still dripping from his hair and beard. She caught up to him just as he hit the edge of the bed, tackling him down in a splash of heat and wet limbs. They tumbled across the sheets, laughing, slipping against each other's slick skin.

"You said I could get one smack!" she gasped, straddling him.

Wolf twisted beneath her with a grin. "Try me, baby."

She did--her palm landed square on his ass with a satisfying crack. He yelped, then laughed, flipping them until she was pinned beneath him, both of them out of breath, hearts pounding against damp skin.

They stilled for a moment, tangled together, smiling like fools.

Then Tristan appeared in the doorway, towel around his waist, already dry and lazy-eyed, a mug of something warm in one hand. He raised a brow.

"Well, that explains the thudding."

Wolf rolled off Anna and sat up, shaking his head like a wet dog. "You missed the best part."

"I heard the yelp," Tristan said, sipping. "It was the best part."

Wolf stood, completely unbothered by his nakedness. He didn't reach for a towel, just stretched, letting the golden light pour over his broad, hairy chest, the silver chain with its small stone pendant glinting against his skin. The damp in his beard caught the light too, and his earring swayed as he turned to Anna with a wink.

She sat up slowly, taking him in, eyes roving from his face to his chest to the line of hair trailing down past his hips.

"God," she said, shaking her head. "You're unbelievably hot."

Wolf smirked, finally tossing a towel toward her. "Come on. Get dressed. We've got news to share."

"You're not putting anything on?" Tristan asked as Anna stood and started drying off.

Wolf shrugged, cocky as hell. "Eventually."

They pulled on clothes in the fading light--bare feet, soft shirts, hair still damp--and stepped out into the garden together.

Tristan looked up from the outdoor table, a joint already lit between his fingers. "You two look suspiciously satisfied."

Anna grinned, looping her arm through Wolf's. "Well. That's because we are. And also--he's staying."

Tristan blinked. "What?"

Wolf nodded, a quiet confidence in his voice. "The residency came through. A full year in Marseille. I'm taking it."

"And we're looking at houses," Anna added, her voice soft but sure. "To live together."

The last of the sun slipped below the horizon, leaving the garden bathed in a slow, warm glow.

Tristan's face lit up, a smile stretching wide. "Fuck yes. That's incredible."

Wolf reached for the bottle of wine on the table, uncorking it with easy skill. "Thought it might be worth a toast."

Glasses clinked under the indigo sky, and something deep and certain settled between them--like roots taking hold.

"Alright," Anna said, nudging Wolf with her elbow, "ready to make this real?"

He blinked over at her. "What?"

"The house hunt, dumbass." She turned the laptop so he could see the tab open to a Marseille immobilier site. "You've got a residency. We need a place. A proper place."

Wolf grinned, sliding his hand up her thigh. "I thought I was your proper place."

"Don't make me shut this laptop on your dick."

Tristan snorted behind his glass of wine.

They leaned in together, scrolling through listings--half-crumbling villas, sunny modern builds, strange passion projects. They were picky without meaning to be. Too dark. Too boxy. Bad garden. Terrible windows. Anna refused to live in anything with cold floors. Wolf wanted room to build and shoot and cook with the doors open. They both wanted softness and light and trees they didn't have to plant.

"Wait," Wolf said suddenly, stopping her scrolling with a hand on her wrist. "This one," Wolf said, tapping the trackpad when a sun-drenched two-story home appeared--terracotta stucco and wood exterior, vintage midcentury modern vibes, hardwood floors, textured glass brick details and seperation walls throughout, a lush but unkempt garden full of potential. "I can see it. Morning coffee out here, dogs running in the grass. You barefoot with a book. Me sketching naked."

"Obviously," Anna said dryly, but she was clearly into it. Her hand slipped up his thigh under the laptop. "And this light? Imagine your photos."

It wasn't perfect--but it could be. A sun-faded house just outside the city, half-wild garden, wide arched windows. Not furnished, but the light poured in like honey. High ceilings, structured walls, vintage structural elements, soft lines. Room to breathe.

Anna leaned forward, zooming in on the photos. "Oh fuck. That living room. Look at that wooden built-in bench. Those beams and that fireplace--

"And the outdoor space," Wolf added. "We could have dinners out there. Plant things. Let the dogs go feral. It even has some sort of cabin in the back we could turn into a shared atelier and chill space."

Tristan stood, coming over to peer down at the screen. "God, yeah. You two could ruin each other in a house like that."

"Will you design it?" Anna asked without looking away from the screen. "Seriously. We want it to feel like ours. We trust you."

Wolf turned his head toward Tristan, already smiling. "We'll feed you. Flatter you. Give you a ridiculous budget and let you go wild."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. "And let me boss you around about finishes?"

Anna looked over at him and winked. "Kinky."

Wolf laughed and pulled her in close, pressing a kiss to her temple. "Say yes."

Tristan sighed like he was being put out, but he was already smiling. "Fine. But I'm vetoing any more rattan chairs."

Anna clapped and kissed him on the cheek. "Deal."

"Wait. Babe." Anna zoomed in on the map.

"What?"

"This is--this is your street," she said, looking up at Tristan. "Like two minutes down. This is your street!"

Tristan leaned forward, squinting at the address, then burst into a slow, surprised grin. "Holy shit. You're right."

Wolf tilted his head, already imagining it--Sunday dinners, borrowed tools, wandering barefoot over with coffee and gossip. A chosen-family sort of setup. Easy, open, safe.

"Well," Anna said, turning back to the photos. "Now we have to go see it."

Wolf leaned back again, arm draped over Anna's shoulder, his fingers trailing down the curve of her side. She clicked "save" on the listing and closed the laptop with a soft snap. They didn't say it out loud, but they all felt it--that flutter in the chest, that slight ache behind the ribs. This was really happening. A home, not just a house. Something they were building--together.

The laughter still lingered in the air from earlier--the ridiculous attempts to pronounce the realtor's last name, Anna mock-interviewing Wolf like a real estate agent, Tristan doing his dramatic "open house" tour voice.

Wolf was reclined on the low couch, Anna stretched along his side, her cheek resting just under his collarbone. His laptop sat open on the coffee table, the listing for the house glowing gently. The one they couldn't stop circling back to.

Sunlight had long faded. Outside, the streetlamps glowed amber. Inside, the room had gone dim, quiet, the post-meal buzz settling into something softer. Wolf's fingers idly traced shapes on Anna's bare arm, while Tristan was curled in an armchair nearby, scrolling through his phone with a little smirk tugging at his mouth.

"Speak of the devil," he murmured.

Anna propped herself up slightly. "Ilias?"

Tristan nodded. "He says he's home and wondering if I want to come by."

"Oh, he misses you," Anna teased, grinning. "Tell him we say hi. And that you look very kissable tonight."

Wolf glanced over with a sly smirk. "Text him that if he breaks your heart, I'll have to seduce him out of spite."

Tristan snorted. "That sounds like a win for him."

"Maybe," Wolf said, stretching lazily, "but then you'd have to watch. And admit I'm the hotter one."

Tristan stood and ruffled Wolf's curls with a scoff. "Delusional. But cute."

Anna laughed, nudging Wolf's ribs as Tristan grabbed his bag. "Go. Be debauched. We'll hold down the fort."

Tristan paused in the doorway, already half-lit by the streetlight glow. "You two behave."

"We won't," Anna called sweetly.

The door shut behind him. The house felt quieter immediately, like the energy had gently shifted.

Anna turned back to Wolf, who was watching the laptop screen again. The house was still up. Pale stone walls, soft arches, that generous garden wrapping around the back. Big windows that would flood the space with morning light. They'd been flipping through the images all evening.

"You still like it?" she asked, trailing her fingers down his stomach.

Wolf hummed. "I do. I can picture it--waking up with the light pouring in, you padding around the kitchen in one of my shirts, me out back with my hands in the dirt."

Anna smiled. "Building us some dreamy wooden bench with secret compartments?"

He grinned. "Exactly. And a trellis for the vines. Maybe a raised bed for tomatoes."

She laughed and curled closer. "You'd make the whole block jealous."

"Just doing my part as the handsome neighbor with enviable herbs and power tools." He smiled, but his smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

Anna catches it. Lets the silence stretch before asking softly, "What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"

Wolf shrugs, eyes fixed somewhere between her collarbone and the ceiling. "I don't know. It's just... a lot. I want this. I really do. But part of me keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Anna leans in a little, brushing her fingers along the side of his face. "You think something's going to go wrong?"

"Not exactly," he admits. "More like... I'm going to fuck it up. Or it'll slip away. Or one of us wakes up one morning and feels trapped. Or you'll realize I'm not actually the man you want to build a life with."

The room gets very still.

Then Anna says, "I'm not going anywhere."

She says it like she means it. Like she's already ten steps ahead, already imagined the garden, the light in the morning, the coffee rituals, the dogs racing down the hallway. "I'm not half-in this time, Wolf. You know that, right?"

He blinks. Nods. His throat tightens.

She climbs into his lap, straddling him without fanfare, holding his face between both hands. "And you are the man I want to build a life with. Even if you're a little feral. Especially if you're a little feral."

That makes him laugh--soft and surprised. And then her lips are on his. Warm. Sure. No seduction, no performance. Just love and need.

They don't rush. Wolf touches her like he's memorizing something. Anna kisses him like she's anchoring them both.

At one point, she murmurs against his lips, "We're gonna see the house tomorrow. And if it feels right... we'll make it ours."

There was a beat of silence, tender and electric. He closes his eyes. Breathes her in. Lets go.

Wolf leaned in and kissed her--not rushed, not desperate, but deep and certain. He rolled onto his side, bringing her with him, hands sliding along her back like he was memorizing her shape. When she sighed into his mouth, he smiled.

"God, I want you," he said against her lips.

"You already have me," she whispered.

He kissed down her throat, over the curve of her shoulder, then paused--just looking at her, drinking her in.

"Tell me again," he said, voice rough now, tinged with vulnerability.

Anna met his gaze without blinking. "You have me, Wolf. I'm here."

He closed his eyes, let the words settle in deep. Then his hand slid between her thighs, deliberate, knowing. He found her already wet, and the sound she made lit something up in his chest.

"Good," he said, fingers teasing her clit in slow, practiced circles. "Because I want to take my time tonight."

She arched into him, already trembling. "Then take it."

Wolf kissed her again, slow and deep--savoring her. His fingers slid down the curve of her thigh, brushing just beneath the edge of her panties. Her skin was warm, her breath already hitching in anticipation. He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, then her throat, letting the silence stretch as his hand eased between her legs. One slow glide down the seam of her body, and he felt how wet she already was.

"Yeah," he murmured, more to himself than to her, voice low and reverent. "Just like that."

Anna sighed, hips tilting toward him. "Don't tease."

He laughed quietly, brushing his nose against her jaw. "I'm not. Just... appreciating the view."

"You've seen it," she whispered, breath catching as his fingers circled her clit with slow, featherlight pressure.

"Still my favorite thing," he said, kissing the soft underside of her breast. "Second only to the way you sound when I make you fall apart."

She huffed a laugh, half-lost already. "Then shut up and--oh, fuck..."

He dipped lower, fingers slick now, gliding in slow strokes. Not rushing. Just getting her used to the rhythm, the presence of him. Her legs opened further, thighs tense around his wrist, but he kept it steady--circling, teasing, drawing slow gasps from her chest.

"I love how you move," she said suddenly, one hand threading into his curls. "Like you already know everything I want."

Wolf smiled against her skin. "I've been paying attention."

His mouth followed his hand down her body, kissing along her stomach, over the waistband of her underwear. He sat up slightly to ease them off, taking his time. She helped, lifting her hips without hesitation, and when he spread her legs open again, her breath caught--just from the look in his eyes.

He kissed the inside of her thigh, then the other. Pressed his cheek against the softness there for a moment like he needed to anchor himself.

"You okay?" she asked softly.

"More than okay," he said. "Just... I don't want to miss anything."

Then he lowered his head, and everything else went quiet.

His tongue was slow, patient. Long, deliberate strokes from base to tip, never rushing the peak. He worked her open with his mouth like he was reading her--adjusting each time her breath changed, each shift of her hips, each sound she couldn't hold back.

Anna was already writhing, her hands in his hair, one heel digging into the couch. "Wolf, fuck, don't stop..."

He didn't. Just flicked his tongue over her clit with a soft, focused rhythm, holding her open with one hand while the other pressed against her belly, grounding her. Her hips started to roll, chasing it, but he kept control, pulling back just enough to keep her simmering.

"God," she moaned, breathless now. "You're fucking relentless."

"Mm," he hummed against her, smug. "You like that?"

She made a noise--frustrated and desperate and sweet--and he grinned before dipping two fingers into her, shallow at first, then deeper. Her walls fluttered around him, the heat and pressure pulling him deeper into his own arousal, his own ache building low in his belly.

"You feel so fucking good," he said, voice rough now. "I could stay here all night."

"You might have to," she gasped.

He kept at it, mouth and hand working in tandem now, drawing her closer with slow precision. Her whole body was trembling, thighs taut, breath ragged.

But she didn't come yet. She was right on the edge, but he backed off slightly--just enough to let her hover, to draw out the moment, the heat.

"Jesus, Wolf," she groaned. "You're torturing me."

"Not torture," he murmured, kissing her thigh again. "Just worship."

Anna laughed breathlessly. "You're such a romantic when you're ruining me."

He grinned and came up to kiss her, tasting her on his lips. She pulled him in by the waistband of his sweats, hands slipping beneath the hem of his shirt to touch his back, his chest, every part of him she could reach.

"Take this off," she said, voice low now, needy.

He stripped his shirt off without a word, then kicked his sweats off, leaving the soft briefs he wore. She ran her hands over his stomach, over the flat plane of his chest, the scars he carried without shame. Her eyes held his, warm and certain.

"You're so fucking beautiful," she said.

He blushed a little, but he didn't look away. Just leaned in and kissed her slow. Deep. "You too."

Anna shifted, pushing the cushions aside to make more room, and Wolf reached for the harness tucked under the coffee table from earlier--leftover from their last night together, washed, set aside, maybe even subconsciously kept close.

She raised her eyebrows as he adjusted the straps. "You planned ahead?"

"Hopeful," he said, smiling.

When he settled between her legs again, fitted against her, she gasped--just from the pressure, the promise of him there. He didn't thrust right away. Just rocked into her slowly, watching her mouth fall open, the way she dragged her nails along his back.

He moved with purpose, hips rolling, eyes locked to hers, one hand laced with hers beside her head.

The way she clung to him, the way she opened up--it felt like everything. It wasn't about the strap, or the way it made him feel like more of himself. It was the way she looked at him while it happened. Like she saw him, all of him, and wanted him exactly like this.

No one rushed. No one begged for it to end. They just moved together, over and over, until their sweat-slicked bodies were shaking, breath coming in soft moans and broken yeses.

And when she finally came--gripping his shoulders, crying out into his mouth--it was long and slow and shaking. He held her through it, trembling too, overwhelmed by how much he felt.

They stayed that way--quiet, pulsing, wrapped in each other like a secret--until the room faded around them.

Anna was still panting when the aftershocks eased, her body soft beneath him, one arm flung over her eyes like she needed a second to come back to earth. Wolf stayed close, mouth brushing her collarbone, hands stroking slow over her hips, her belly. He didn't pull out. He didn't let the moment cool.

Instead, he murmured against her skin, "You're not done, are you?"

She laughed--hoarse and warm and wanting. "Fuck no."

"Good," he said, and kissed her again--long and possessive this time. She opened to him right away, tongue sliding against his, legs curling around his waist.

When he moved again, slow at first, she gasped--more sensitive now, but hungry, responsive. Her heels dug into the backs of his thighs, urging him to keep going.

"Harder," she breathed. "Come on--"

Wolf did. He set a rhythm this time, slow and deep, then faster, then back again. Just to watch what it did to her. Just to hear the way she whimpered when he bottomed out and stayed there, grinding against her until her back arched.

Her nails raked down his back. "You like teasing me like this?"

"Yeah," he groaned, voice thick. "You make it easy."

She grabbed his jaw with both hands and kissed him--messy and hot, tongue pushing into his mouth with a need that made his hips stutter. She moaned into him as he thrust harder, and he had to pull back to look at her again.

"Anna," he rasped. "You should see yourself right now."

Her hair was stuck to her cheeks, her mouth swollen from kissing, her skin glowing. She looked up at him like he was everything she wanted, and he didn't know how to hold that without falling apart.

"You keep fucking me like that," she whispered, voice ragged, "and I'm gonna lose it again."

"Then let go," he said, breath hitching. "Come for me. I want to feel you when you do."

He reached between them again, fingers slick where he touched her, circling her clit with just enough pressure to make her cry out.

"Oh--God, Wolf, please--don't stop--"

"I've got you," he said, hips moving faster now, rhythm tight and focused. "You're so fucking wet--so good--"

She came with a desperate sob, clinging to him like her body couldn't decide whether to pull him in or push him away. Her thighs shook, her hands trembled, and her face twisted in a moan so raw he nearly lost it too.

But he held on, breathing hard, grounding her through it, pressing his forehead to hers as he slowed the thrusts, letting her come down easy.

She was still shaking when she opened her eyes.

"Holy shit," she whispered.

He kissed her gently, still cradling her hips. "Still with me?"

"Barely."

He chuckled, but the sound broke halfway through. His own need was thick now--deep in his gut, his thighs, a whole-body ache he'd been holding back because he wanted her first. Needed her to get there.

But Anna saw it--felt it in the way he trembled, the way his grip tightened when she moved beneath him again.

"You didn't come yet, did you?" she asked, voice still breathless but laced with a teasing lilt. "You've been holding back."

Wolf swallowed hard. "I was... focused."

"Mm." She kissed his throat, his shoulder, dragging her mouth down to his chest. "Let me take care of you now."

"You don't have to--"

"I want to."

She pushed him gently onto his back, straddling him, the strap still slick between her thighs. Her body still flushed from orgasm, but she looked hungry again--like she'd just gotten a taste and wanted more.

She rolled her hips against him, slow at first, letting the base of the harness rub where he needed it most, where the pressure made his legs twitch.

His head dropped back. "Fuck..."

Anna leaned forward, brushing kisses over his jaw. "Tell me what you like."

"Like this," he gasped, hips rising to meet her. "Exactly like this."

She set a rhythm, grinding against him, her hands on his chest, her mouth never far from his. She whispered filth into his ear between kisses--telling him how good he felt, how hot he looked under her, how she couldn't get enough of the way he moved, the way he moaned when she got the angle just right.

He gripped her hips, letting himself feel it--every stroke of friction, every rush of heat, every ragged gasp she dragged out of him.

Anna moved with easy confidence now, her skin still dewy from orgasm, her thighs flushed and trembling slightly as she straddled him. Wolf couldn't look away. She was radiant--eyes dark with desire, lips parted as she rolled her hips just enough to tease, the base of the strap grinding into his clit with every pass.

His fingers dug into the backs of her thighs. "Fuck, Anna..."

She kissed him, soft at first, then deeper, tongue coaxing, claiming. Her hands stroked over his chest, his sides, grounding him as he gasped and writhed beneath her.

"I want you to come for me," she murmured. "But I want to feel you, too. Skin to skin."

He nodded, breath catching in his throat. "Yeah--okay."

She pulled back slightly, and he watched with wide eyes as she unbuckled the harness, tossing it gently aside. Her hand stroked down his body, slow, reverent, as she settled between his legs and kissed his belly. Then lower.

He jolted when she kissed his clit. Not hard. Just a brush--her mouth soft, her breath warm, her fingers spreading him gently open. She licked him then, slow and thorough, tongue circling and teasing, learning the shape of him like she wanted to memorize it.

Wolf's hands flew to her hair, eyes wide, hips arching toward her mouth. "Oh my--fuck, Anna--"

"You taste so good," she murmured, lips slick, voice wrecked. "So wet for me already."

She sucked his clit gently between her lips, and he bucked, crying out before he could stop himself. It felt like fire and velvet, like nothing he'd ever felt before--every nerve lit up and thrumming, his whole body drawn tight with need.

"God, I can't--Anna--"

"Yes, you can." She dragged her tongue slow over him, then crawled back up, straddling his thigh. Her pussy was soaked, slick and flushed and hungry, and when she lowered herself against him--clit to clit, heat to heat--he nearly came from that alone.

Their slick folds slid together, gliding so easily it felt unreal. Anna moaned low in her throat, and Wolf stared, stunned, as her body arched into him.

"Fuck--you feel that?" she panted, grinding slow. "God, you're so soft--so hard at the same time--so fucking perfect." She dragged her slick pussy over his clit.

He couldn't even speak. His hands gripped her hips like he needed to anchor himself to the earth. Then her clit dragged over his in the most excruciating rhythm, wet and hot and pulsing. He felt everything--every slip, every pulse, every tremble. The glide was perfect, so wet, so raw, so open.

Anna leaned over him again, chest to chest, mouth to his ear. "I want you to come just like this. I want to feel it."

Her words broke something open in him. Wolf thrust up into her, hips jerking, desperate for more pressure, more contact. Anna moaned and met his rhythm, their bodies locked in the most intimate friction, grinding faster, harder, her slickness mixing with his in a flood of heat.

"I'm gonna--Anna--fuck--I'm gonna--"

"Do it," she whispered. "Come for me, baby. I want all of it."

He clutched her ass and pulled her down harder, his body shuddering as he ground his clit against hers, grinding until the pressure was unbearable--until it exploded. His orgasm hit like a wave crashing through him, pulling a choked cry from his throat as his whole body seized, bucked, then trembled violently beneath her.

Anna moaned too, chasing her own pleasure as he rode his out. Their bodies never stopped moving--slick and needy and tangled. She held his face as he came, watching every shudder, kissing him through it like she wanted to keep him there forever.

When it finally passed, he slumped back, dazed and drenched in sweat, his chest rising and falling in quick, shallow breaths.

Anna rested on top of him, her face in his neck. "Holy shit," she whispered.

"Yeah," he rasped, arms wrapping around her. "That was..."

"I know."

They stayed like that, bodies tangled and sticky, hearts hammering in sync.

Eventually, they stirred--slowly, reluctantly. Their bodies were flushed and sticky, muscles trembling with the aftershocks, hearts still trying to catch up. Anna rolled off of him with a soft, lazy groan and immediately reached for his hand.

"Come to bed," she murmured, voice slurred with pleasure.

Wolf let her tug him up, still breathless, still half-dazed. They moved together without thinking, naked and tangled, the air warm around them. The sheets were soft when they climbed in, but the warmth between their bodies was better. They curled up under the blanket like they'd done it a hundred times--limbs interlaced, skin to skin, fingertips tracing each other's shape like a map they were determined to memorize.

Wolf reached out to touch her--her waist, her ribs, the curve of her breast, the slick heat still lingering between her thighs. He rubbed slow circles into her hips, pressed his face into her neck, and whispered, "I want to feel your wetness on my dick every day for the rest of my life."

Anna's breath hitched. Then she laughed, low and lovely, and tilted her head so she could look at him. "That so?"

He nodded. "Every. Day."

She kissed him for that--slow and sweet, the kind of kiss that seeped into his bones. Then she pulled away just enough to trail tiny kisses across his jaw, down his chest, his belly, all the way until she was nestled between his thighs again. He shivered when her mouth brushed over his clit--barely a kiss, more breath than touch.

"That one," she whispered, looking up at him with a sly smile, "was to say goodbye."

"Goodbye?" he echoed, eyes dazed.

"To your functioning brain." She climbed back up his body, laughing when he groaned and pulled her close.

They collapsed into each other, arms and legs wrapped tight, noses brushing. Her fingers stroked up and down his spine; his palm rested between her shoulder blades. Everything about them was bare--warmth, skin, affection. No guards. No hurry.

Wolf tucked his face into her hair and let out a long, content sigh. "You smell like sex," he mumbled.

"You smell like love," she teased, voice muffled against his chest.

They lay in silence a while, just letting it wash over them. The shared breath. The shared future.

Then Anna tilted her head. "Can I tell you something kind of... dumb?"

Wolf blinked. "Of course."

"I've already imagined what art you'll make in that studio. I can see it--sunlight hitting your shoulders, you in those paint-stained shorts, camera strap across your chest, focused like you forget the world's even there." She paused. "It makes me want to build the space around you. Like... I want to help carve out the life where you get to be you. The most you."

Wolf didn't say anything right away. His throat was too tight. But he kissed her, slow and sweet and grateful, and murmured against her mouth, "Then I guess we better go see that house tomorrow."

They chuckled together, lazy and full. Their bodies shifted closer, a tangle of satisfied limbs, and the rhythm of their breathing slowly synced. He kissed her forehead. She kissed his collarbone. Their hands wandered one last time--gentle now, playful--like their bodies were still saying hello even as their minds drifted into sleep.