Anymore.
"You think I'll…" He didn't need to finish the question. I understood why it would be difficult for him to.
"I don't know. This doesn't seem the same, like Hollister said. But if it happened. I could never do that to you."
"Do it to me?" Jazz repeated, clearly taking offense. "I'd be there too. It takes two to impregnate a man." He tilted his head to the side, thinking. "That doesn't have the same ring to it."
He couldn't be saying what I thought he was saying. I was ready for forever, to bind him to me in every way possible, but how could he be ready? "A baby, Jazz…"
As I spoke, I pictured a child with Jazz's soft curls. His beautiful eyes. A child. How long had it been since any of us had even spoken to a child?
Since before we'd picked through the rubble that had once been our pack's school building.
"No, I can't tell you right now with one hundred percent certainty that I want to be pregnant or have a child. Because that's a crazy question. Why would I ever spend any time wondering about that? It wasn't like I was in a place to assume care of another person while I was on the run. I'm not an idiot. I have concerns. I don't want it to hurt. I don't want something to happen to me or the child. I'm scared, but not so much that I don't want this. You. Maybe nothing will happen, and this is all a fluke, coincidence. Unrelated." He didn't sound like he believed that entirely. His mouth went slack as his pupils dilated wide. He cleared his throat and, in a firmer voice, said, "Whatever it is, if it includes you, I want it."
The urge to argue rose. I needed to tell him he couldn't know what he wanted because just wanting me was proof of his bad decision-making. I recognized the thought now for what it was: my own misgivings. I didn't feel like enough. I hadn't protected my pack. I hadn't protected Pierce. I'd let my brothers dwindle to shadows of themselves, and we were still stuck on the same road, spinning our tires on the same stretch of asphalt that we were five years ago.
While my qualities as a leader were questionable, I wasn't a stupid man or alpha. I wanted Jazz too much to doubt what he said was true. I covered his mouth with mine, attempting to tell him what his trust meant to me, that with him, I wouldn't fail. But, I was a man of action, not great with words. I'd tell him best by showing him.
And right now, I needed to show him he was loved.
I locked the door and brought him to the far corner, setting him down on a stack of mats. I didn't want the chill in the air getting anywhere near him, as sweltering as he felt against me, and covered him quickly with my body. Cradling his head between my arms, I nestled his body between my legs, wanting to hold him in that moment more than I wanted inside him.
He stared up at me with huge doe-like eyes, and I was blown away by trust in his gaze. I didn't deserve him. That was a fact as clear as any. But I would work to deserve him. I'd work to be the Alpha I'd once been, and I would work to deserve the title of our team's leader.
"Never doubt this," I said gently, intending to reassure more than I scolded. "You're mine, Jazz."
"You've said that before," he grumped, his cheeks pink with desire.
"I was trying to give you an out, my boy."
He clung around my neck, trembling. "I don't want an out. I want you in."
Smirking, I took control of his mouth. "My sweet, naughty boy," I murmured between kisses. "I'm going to fill you up."
He moaned, deep and needy. His bottom half wiggled, searching for a firmer contact at his center. "Please, Knox. I'm burning for you." His gaze smoldered as he ground his hips up in a circular motion.
I growled, gripping the side of his waist to keep him still. "I know what you need, sweet. I know just what you need." I reclined beside him, removing his clothes so that every inch of his body was open and waiting for me. As I revealed his skin, I kissed it, rubbed my face into him, marking his body with my scent.
His face flushed; the redness crept down his neck to his chest. Suddenly, his breath hitched, and his eyes swarmed with tears.
My alpha went on alert. Some thing was making my boy sad. That was unacceptable. But I sensed no other presence. "What is it, Jazz? Don't cry, baby." I kissed his tears as they fell silently.
"I just. If you mean it…"
I growled at his use of if. "I mean it."
He blinked several times, waiting to speak until his lip stopped trembling. "Then this is the first time I've… the first… I've never been home before."
I understood what he meant. Not that he'd never lived someplace, but that he'd never had a place he called home. My chest tightened as a possessive wave washed over me.
This place wasn't a home yet. But it would be. I'd make it that way for Jazz. And until then, his home would be wherever I was.
I propped up on my side, hovering over Jazz's smaller form. "This is your home. This is where you are wanted. In my arms. By my side as my omega." These weren't the types of words I was accustomed to speaking. Gentle, comforting. They were outside of my normal scope, but each word felt right. I didn't search for something to say because I was explaining fact. Simple as that.
"I want that. I want you." He moaned into my mouth, and I let my hands explore his body, tickling over where my lips had been. I wanted to take my time, kiss over his body at least once more, but the whiny tenor of his moans told me my boy needed my dick, now.
I reached on the shelf to our right for the coconut oil the twins used. I pumped the bottle, filling my hand with the slick liquid as Jazz watched, his breaths rasping through parted lips.
"Why is that down here?" he squeaked. "You use a rock to wash. How do you have anything remotely close to a beauty product?" He smiled wide.
"The twins use it." I frowned, not wanting to think on this for too long. "Let's just be glad it's here."
My hand gripped his dick, erect and pointing straight up. He thrust up into the slick circle of my fingers. "Fuck, I love your hands. Big, strong." His bottom half lifted from the mat and stayed lifted as his moans became wails.
The sight was too pretty to stop, so I let him continue chasing his release. His eyes squeezed shut, opening whenever he gasped. When his cries reached a fevered pitch, I relaxed my hand, smirking at his shout of displeasure.
"We have time, Jazz. You don't need to rush."
He hmphed. "Yes I do," he whined, punctuating each word with a dramatic pelvic flex.
I tightened my grip at the base of his cock, squeezing to get his attention. "No, we don't. I'm not rushing just so I can get my dick in you faster. You're too precious for that."
He frowned, but I knew deep down he would appreciate the restraint. He may have been ready to go balls to the wall, but I wouldn't let him be hurt. Not in that way.
I stroked him a few more times, whipping him into a frenzy before diving my hand down where I found his sweet hole.
He grabbed my wrist, attempting to push it further, deeper. He was impatient, and I loved it. My boy couldn't wait to feel me. With excruciating patience, I fingered him, waiting for his cries to level before adding a second. He was so tight; I couldn't risk it. Two became three. I scissored my fingers testing that he was ready for a fourth. While stretching him in every direction, he twitched against the mat, his body spasming out of his control.