He was a particular man – none of that was a secret. Morpheus preferred things a certain way, from the ran the pack ran all the way down to how he was greeted upon coming home. There was something about Owen that kept him warming the Alpha’s bed. He was not of his kind, which could have been considered a scandal in of itself, but the boy had learned his place quicker than any of his wolves, and with no one in the pack vying for this very spot, it made it all easier. The door closed behind him and there was Owen, seated on his knees in the center of the room just as Mo liked him. It brought the faintest touch of a smile to his lips, but by the time he reached the boy, the expression was stoic once more.
Mo reached, rough and calloused fingers taking Owen’s chin to lift his face up so he could get a look at him. There was a slight notion of appreciation in his touch, in the way the pad of his thumb dragged over his bottom lip. Silent as it ever was with Mo. His thumb, once it had traced the entirety of the boy’s lip, then pushed forward, seeking the wet warmth of the other’s mouth.
