Claimed (Werewolf boyxboy)

Chapter 35

THIRD PERSON POV

"It's not that long... It's not that far... Stop freaking out, he's totally safe..."

Jax's foot bounced incessantly against the floor of Corey's car while he mumbled to himself, thumbnail bitten down to a stump as he tried – and immediately failed – to tame his anxiety. It was only once his heart threatened to take off in an Olympic sprint that he gave up trying to contain his rapidly growing concern, and instead turned to his mate to express the true extent of his passion.

"Maybe we should turn around and pick him up! I mean, what if he's crying right now and we don't even know? Or even worse, if they're using the wrong nipple on the bottle?! You know he only likes the one with the bite marks in it!" Jax suddenly spouted, words spewing from his lips like blood through a punctured artery as he turned to take in the side profile of Corey's ever-blank face. The Alpha's was all sharp lines and jawbone, with a dusting of facial hair that – if he was being terribly honest – left Jax on his knees this morning, begging his mate not to shave it off.

Luckily, all that it took was a quick ball slurp and, as usual, Jax got his way. His Alpha would have gladly indulged his wishes with or without a blowjob bribe, but Jax didn't need to know that right now. Especially when Corey was still miles deep in the memory of a nauseatingly sexy Jax, cheeks aflush, curls a mess, with a thick string of saliva connecting his tongue to his throbbing tip...

Corey's chest hummed as he chased away the horny, much more concerned with the vibration of worry that trickled through their bond from Jax's end. He reached out in an effort to placate his easily riled beloved, pressing a warm, paw-like hand into the bouncing flesh of Jax's upper thigh.

"I know that it is easier said than done, but try not to worry, sweetheart. I can assure you, Theon will be perfectly safe with Osias and Berlin for a few hours." He reassured, squeezing the plump flesh in a way that usually made Jax melt into a warm, jelly-like goo. But like the stubborn little imp he was, Jax couldn't help but rebel, his brat-prone brain pushing back against the sensation that made him want to kneel at this man's feet (for the second time today, we might add).

"But, but... I didn't even get to finish telling him all the best ways to frame someone for arson! We really should turn around right now. Why aren't you turning?! Oh sweet God/dess, Jesus, and Satan's baby mama, I think I'm gettin' heart palpitations–"

Corey's fingertips dug into the hearty meat of Jax's thigh, pressing so deep that it was as if he made direct contact with the Beta's frayed nerve endings.

His Alpha's touch was an anchor, a weight that pressed him into the seat and reminded him that the world was not – in fact – about to burst into flames.

"Deep breaths," Corey instructed, deep voice vibrating from his throat, through his arm, and straight down into those nerves. "Just like we practiced."

"Just like we practiced..." Jax echoed, squeezing his eyes shut and focusing hard.

It had been difficult at first, learning to self-regulate when his wayward brain decided to run away without him. But through his healing process, the Beta soon noticed that if he just focused on one, single thing – an anchor to reality – he could knock his brain out of its overactive state of fight-or-flight. And right now, that one thing was squeezing the ever-loving shit out of his left thigh.

But damn, if Jax didn't fucking love it. Sometimes he wished that he could bottle Corey up just so that he could take a hit off of the man whenever he so chose.

When Jax finally caught his breath, deciding that he was about seventy-six percent recovered from the edge of cardiac arrest, he placed a slightly clammy, heavily freckled hand atop the back of his mate's larger, tanned one.