Blue settled nicely against his mate, his thin body stretched out in an elegant line as he leaned back against Eivind's chest. He found comfort in the strong, hairy arm wrapped around his waist, preventing him from tipping too far to one side or the other. He laughed heartily at Devin's words, tiny crow's feet dotting the corners of his eyes as his smile stretched from ear to ear. He was happy. His heart felt light, weightless as a feather dancing with the breeze, and though somewhere in his mind he knew this feeling of uncontrollable lightness couldn't last forever, he grasped at it tonight with warm, electrified fingers.<br/><br/>“Only a madman would say yes,” Blue countered, turning once again to stare into the dark pools of Eivind's eyes, almost black in the low light. “You hear that?” he asked, grinning, reaching up stroke the rough hair on the side of his lover's cheek. “You've driven me absolutely fucking crazy.”<br/><br/>The young human was pulled from his playful musings by the sound of his best friend's voice and the promise of gifts. He placed his nearly empty glass down on the table before them and watched with a curious gaze as Sig presented the couple with a decorative item made of knotted rope. Blue took the piece into his hands, admiring the simple yet elegant curves, the tightness of the knotting, and listened quietly as Sig explained what the item was and what it meant. At the moment of understanding, Blue pressed the knotted rope to his chest, smiling. “Thank you, Sig,” he said softly, looking to the small wolf with a mask of wistful appreciation. “This will come with us wherever we go.”<br/><br/>Blue's promise was punctuated with a kiss, unexpected but not unwelcome. Though their lips were pressed together for only a couple of seconds, Blue could taste the sweetness of Sig's mouth, swirling together with a lingering hint of smoke—that must have been from Stellan, he decided. A small, instinctual whine sprang from his lips when Sig pulled away and kissed Eivind, then pulled the two close. “Are all Swedish traditions so hot?” Blue laughed, trying to hide the swell in his cheeks by placing a hand over his face. He tucked himself back into Eivind, his safe place, his home, nuzzling the older male's neck.<br/><br/>Stellan watched the interaction with a bemused grin on his face, happily sipping his beer and enjoying the brief moment of unfiltered joy. Sig was excited for his friends, and the little wolf's delight was contagious. He wondered how intoxicating it must be for Eivind and Blue to feel such a rush of emotion, if he would ever know the feeling himself. He stared at the small wolf with the golden hair and smiled to himself, distracted only but the violent buzzing of his phone in the pocket of his jeans.<br/><br/>The texts slapped the smile from Stellan's face, sapping him of all cheer he found in the celebrations. It didn't take long for Sig to realize something was up. The two went outside after a few quick and apologetic goodbyes. Garlan stood by Stellan's motorcycle, too close to Blue and Eivind as far as he was concerned. But better out here than in there.<br/><br/>“So fuck me, I let it slip my mind,” he growled, waving away Garlan's suggestion. “Look, I don't think we need—”<br/><br/>“<i>We'll follow you on the bike.”</i><br/><br/>Stellan's head snapped to Sig, his jaw clenched tightly. “Sig, I don't think—” he began, but Sig cut him off with a raised hand. He'd already decided it seemed, and though they'd only been together a short while, Stellan had come to know that once Sig made up his mind there was no changing it. “We'll follow you on the bike,” he repeated, his voice gruff and dripping with contention. Stellan huffed as the two put on their helmets and climbed onto the motorcycle, engine rumbling to life between his thighs as the taillights on Garlan's shitty hunk of metal lit up. Sig was a werewolf like the rest of them and that fact alone would award him some amount of respect from the alpha. But he was small, foreign, and beautiful, and Stellan found no pleasure in the idea of presenting him to his pack like a sweet little trophy he had picked up on his travels.<br/><br/>They drove the long distance back to pack territory, Stellan pulling his prized motorcycle up next to Garlan's old rust-eaten beast on the shared dirt lot. “Give us a sec,” Stellan barked, and though he could see Garlan wanted to argue, the cranky wolf yielded to pack hierarchy, giving Stellan and Sig a bit of space as he went to go strip off his dirty clothes. Undoubtedly Lofgren would demand they all shift sometime tonight.<br/><br/>“You don't have to do this,” Stellan whispered, pulling Sig to him and holding on tightly to his narrow hips. He leaned down and kissed along Sig's neck, scenting him, wanting to ensure there was zero ambiguity to Stellan's interest in the small wolf. Though not technically mated, Stellan's aroma was aggressive and overpowering. The big wolf's urge to claim him permanently had been growing the more time they spent with one another, and now he wished he had done it, if only to keep any of his horny packmates from getting fresh.<br/><br/>“Lofgren's wild,” he explained, stepping back to begin removing his clothing. “He's old school, ritualistic. I don't want him thinkin' you're fair game. Wolves your size... they're nothing but breedin' practice for Lof and the others. A way to keep their testosterone up. Anyone tries to mount you, I'm likely to rip out their throats.” Stellan was speaking with a low growl now, his body tense and agitated. “Don't want things to end in a brawl but I don't see you like that. Don't want no one else to, either.”