Chapter Twenty

I feel pretty…

—Maria

 

THOMAS REQUESTED APPROVAL for several supplies from the packhouse, and the council granted it. The supply room was a cross between a thrift store, a low-end new merchandise store, and a supply closet. When pack members found they no longer needed something, they dropped it off at supply. Each month, new essentials were brought in by the traders to keep necessary items in stock at all times.

New and used inventory was hung, shelved, or stocked for another packmate to take and use. No money was exchanged as the pack didn’t utilize a currency system. The expectation was everyone contributed things they didn’t need, and there was very little waste from the group other than necessary trash to dispose of. It was all give and take and sharing. They traded homemade or handcrafted things for money in the human world to support pack supplies.

Thomas walked the few aisles, searching for several items on a list he and Ryan had written out. After checking everything off, Thomas moved to the clothing. He picked out a heavy black coat and thick knit hat for Ryan since he loved his hats. Thankfully, no one else was in supply as Thomas added several new personal items and a few outfits for what they needed. What they both wanted. Thomas looked through a few bins of products and selected items before heading to the counter. He folded and stored everything into two bags to transport them home.

Ryan was out, walking the border of the Steele land, posting the private hunting club signs they’d found in the crates. It was a long shot, but they hoped the Bellum Wolves would avoid any marked areas known as human lands, especially hunting grounds. Wolves could smell human scents from some distance. Most Wolves would travel around such clearly marked areas, with painted markings on trees and nailed-in signage, knowing there would be traps and snares and armed men intent on mounting their heads to a wall.

Or worse, a full-body mount that kept the Wolf’s animal spirit bound to this world in a paralyzed purgatory. Taxidermy was the worst fate for a Wolf, not even wished upon an enemy. While the mounts in the cabin bothered Thomas at times, none were Wolves, and they were actual animals, not the shifted. Still, sometimes they were hard to look at.

Thomas ignored their frozen eyes and made his way to the bathroom. He bathed and took the time to shave in the few places he needed for this to work. He’d never had a lot of body hair, even after transitioning to Wolf. Yet, it was where it was meant to be. Or, it had been. Thomas rinsed out the razor. Out of the bath, he massaged sweet-smelling lotion into his skin and spritzed himself with a sweeter-scented spray. Thomas combed and divided his hair. He worked in two thin, delicate French braids, one on each side, before tying the ends off with short binding chords, letting them disappear into the rest of his long hair. It was far past his shoulders now, but he almost always wore it tightly bound and tied.

Not today. Today his hair swayed against his back as he carefully brushed a hint of color to his cheeks and faintly shaded his eyes. Thomas lined them and then darkened and thickened his light eyelashes with brush after brush of the delicate wand. He blinked a few times and smiled at the subtle but dramatic difference reflected back at him.

He stained his lips with a dry liner, giving them some color but not making them a smearing mess. And then he slid a pair of the new underthings up his legs and the bra around his back and over his shoulders, clasping it closed and smoothing it out. Last but not least, he carefully stepped into the pale, delicate slip dress fashioned from stretchy material. He tied the simple belt loosely at his waist and pushed the sleeves down past his shoulders to reveal the thin straps there. There’d been no shoes to fit him, so he was barefoot. Thomas thought it worked even better for what he was trying to accomplish.

With a look at himself in the tall mirror and a turn to check the back, Thomas was happy with the outcome. Subtle, not over the top—just right—and almost casual, an everyday look. Thomas gathered the extra items and took them to one of their shared drawers in the bedroom. He pulled the remaining underthings from their packaging, and put them in with their boxers and briefs.

Thomas lined his makeup on a small shelf in the bathroom. He realized as he put all those unique things where they would now belong, as he stared at his reflection once more, that he did feel beautiful, pretty even. This side of himself was okay, safe now, and he washed his hands before he started to cry because not only Ryan’s love, but his acceptance was nearly too much to handle.

Thomas headed into the kitchen and put a pot of water on to boil. He wasn’t cooking shit because he knew Ryan too well…and smiled as heavy boots stomped on the steps to knock off the snow. He listened to the approaching thunderous footsteps of his big man approach the door.

Thomas picked up the knife and faced the counter, then slowly sliced a piece of the freshly baked loaf as Ryan came in. The cabin smelled unbelievable from the baking bread. The door creaked, and Ryan’s boots took two steps and stopped dead. Thomas bit his lip and continued to cut.

“Hey, babe,” Thomas said.

“Holy…” Ryan whispered, and Thomas swore he could hear Ryan swallow from across the room. “I mean…” There was a long pause and some shuffling.

“Uh, hey there,” Ryan stammered out and bumbled the heavy board that locked the door from inside.

Thomas knew his surprise had Ryan stumbling and fumbling, and then, Ryan took a long breath and blew it out.

“Um…did you have a good day?” Ryan said quietly as he removed his coat, hat, and boots by the door.

“A great day. I did a little shopping. Picked you up a new winter coat I thought would look good on you.” Thomas had to start slicing another piece of bread from the loaf.

“Thank you, how thoughtful. You picked out a beautiful outfit for yourself. You look amazing. Let me get cleaned up, and I’ll join you.”

Thomas grinned as Ryan hurried to the bathroom. He filled a glass of water and drank half of it. Clearly, this wasn’t going to go as fast as he thought…had hoped. But this was Ryan’s fantasy, and the images he’d bravely shared with Thomas were some of this. Such unbelievably innocent role-play that Ryan saw as so kinky. That made Thomas smile. The rest, Thomas assumed, would just have to play out since Ryan hadn’t shared a play-by-play.

“Come sit,” Ryan said and pulled a chair out from the table for Thomas.

This was it. Thomas turned slowly. Ryan wore a look of awe and wonder on his face.

Ryan appeared pleased as he motioned to the chair. “Let me take care of you. You just relax and tell me about your day, that dress…” He paused appreciatively. “…while I make our dinner. Sound good?” He bent down, kissed Thomas on the cheek, and brushed his hand down Thomas’s smooth hair. “You look so lovely.”

“Thank you,” Thomas said, and his eyes burned as he blinked away the emotion. Thomas hadn’t prepared himself for his own reaction, how Ryan equally loved this secret side of Thomas. There was no judgment, just none.

“Now, none of that,” Ryan said and refilled Thomas’s glass. He set it on the table before opening the fridge and pulling out items to cook for dinner. As he worked, he stole glances at each element of Thomas’s transformation and smiled his approval. “You look amazing, so…beautiful.”

Thomas carried on with Ryan’s secret wish while enjoying the comfort of being like that for himself at the same time. The freedom of it hurt, but in a good way. Thomas talked about domestic things to continue their role-play, which strangely felt more real than pretending. Thomas ran his hands over the smooth material he wore. He discussed the curtains and the flowers to plant in the spring, Ryan’s ideas about wool and other woven materials Thomas was anxious to try out. He wondered if ducks might come to the lake and whether they’d count ducklings and watch them grow and learn to fly. Thomas wondered if there was a way they could get an old sewing machine one day.

“It all sounds like every dream I ever imagined with you, like a beautiful life,” Ryan said. “I want to work hard and give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of.” He sat a plate in front of Thomas and one for himself as he took his seat. Then he stood up abruptly. “Oh, I almost forgot. I have a present for you.”

Thomas waited, amused and a little nervous over how this was going, as Ryan went into the basement. It all felt so…normal. Ryan returned with his hand behind his back and reddened cheeks. He walked to the table and to Thomas’s chair, then went down on one knee and took Thomas’s hand.

“Thomas Mitchum, I love you. My mate. This is the best I can do for now, but one day, I would like to give you a ring to wear when we are together, even if it is just when we sleep. A ring symbolizes the endless love I feel for you.”

Thomas sucked in a breath, held out his shaking hand, and Ryan slid an intricate, tightly braided band of metal onto his ring finger. Upon closer inspection, Thomas realized the reason for Ryan’s recent cuts and minor burns on his fingers, the bloody little scabs and scrapes he’d lied about before they shifted and they healed. All that time he’d sneak off to the shed, not wanting Thomas to help.

Ryan had carefully braided fine metal wires and heated and smoothed the inside to be comfortable to wear—a humble ring made for Thomas, not perfect, but perfect in its imperfection.

“I want no other ring, Ryan. I will wear this and know how much you love me. I wish there was one for you.”

Ryan pulled another ring from his back pocket, and placed it in Thomas’s hand. Thomas leaned over and pressed his lips to Ryan’s and then slid the ring onto his finger. They both smiled.

“Let’s have dinner now,” Ryan said and sat down. He waited for Thomas to taste his food first, and then they ate and spoke about only pleasant things. There was no talk of war or fears about their future. After dinner, Ryan quickly cleaned up, asking Thomas if he wouldn’t mind putting a CD in the player.

“I can do that. Let me guess…The Zombies.” Thomas laughed, found the one he knew Ryan wanted. “Should I play it?”

“Yes, please,” Ryan said from the kitchen, then told him which song he wanted. “‘It’s the Time of the Season.’”

Thomas rolled his eyes because he already knew. As much as he wanted to, he would not give Ryan shit for this. It took a lot of trust to live out your deepest fantasies with someone else—even your mate.

“All done,” Ryan said, drying his hands on a dishtowel and admiring Thomas. “You really do look breathtaking in that dress. I promise you one day you can make your own.” Ryan nodded over his promise to Thomas. “How about a dance?”

Thomas pushed his finger down on the Play button. “I’d love to.”

Ryan smiled and held out a hand. Thomas took it.

Ryan slid a firm hand around Thomas’s lower back and pulled him close to his chest. “I want your cheek on my heart.” Their bodies and hips aligned against each other as close as they could each press.

Thomas rested his cheek on Ryan’s chest above his heart, and they swayed to a familiar, easy guitar and drum beat. Ryan stroked his hand gently over Thomas’s hair, playing with the long strands and braids. Thomas tapped out the notes with his finger.

Ryan ran his fingertips up Thomas’s arm and over his bare shoulder. He kissed him sweetly and slipped his finger under the delicate strap, running it between his finger and thumb while dragging his fingers over Thomas’s bare skin. Ryan mumble-sang the verse quietly against the top of Thomas’s head.

“Sing it.” Ryan laughed lightly over one of his favorite songs.

Thomas sighed and then whisper-sang the words.

They rocked their bodies together as Ryan whispered compliments and beautiful feelings into Thomas’s ear and kissed down his neck.

Thomas was so lost in Ryan’s fantasy, all these things they’d never been able to do but talked and dreamed about wildly in their youths. When the song ended, Ryan bent and scooped Thomas up in his arms and walked to the couch. Sitting down with Thomas across his lap, Ryan smiled and smoothed Thomas’s dress over his legs again, just past the knee. Thomas slid his arm around Ryan’s neck and leaned in for another kiss.

As they kissed, Ryan played with the hem of the dress and traced the skin just beneath the seam below Thomas’s knee. “Summertime” began to play, another of Ryan’s strange favorites Thomas knew all too well, music Ryan had been raised on with his father’s collection of vintage records. He was always humming or singing them under his breath, something Thomas loved and also teased him about.

Ryan began to breathe harder in their kiss as he cautiously inched his finger higher, lazily dancing across the smoothly shaved skin of Thomas’s thigh. Thomas didn’t dare move or shift against the rock-hard length beneath him. Instead, he found his own breathing increasing as Ryan braved slowly inching that finger higher and higher. Thomas moved his left leg just the slightest bit, allowing a small gap for Ryan’s hand.