“So,” Harrison gestured around the space, “This is the attic.” He scratched at his head, his arm flexing with the movement. Dusty averted his eyes so he wouldn’t stare. “Feel free to take the notes you need.” Dusty brought up the notes app on his tablet as he nodded at Harrison.

“Perfect, thank you.” Dusty lifted his head for a short smile, catching Harrison’s light brown eyes for a short moment before he looked down again. He was feeling especially unnerved around Will and Harrison since the Tuesday incident, even though Harrison wasn’t even directly involved. It helped that Will wasn’t here with them today, but Harrison was still a reminder of Dusty's stupid lust. 

"Harrison, could you show me where the current outlets are?"

"There's actually two in here and one is dead so we need to do some rewiring." Harrison pointed out both for Dusty.

"I know the last time this room was used for more than storage was in the '70s. Is there anything specific you'd need to do to reinforce the room's stability if it was traversed more often?"

For the next few hours, Harrison dutifully escorted Dusty around the mansion, answering each of Dusty’s questions about the layouts and dimensions of each room, along with more hypotheticals about how the rooms needed to be improved. Over that time, Dusty had been able to ignore the line of Harrison’s broad shoulders as he double-checked measurements, the way his shorn hair showed off his strong, square jaw, how his pouty lower lip became more pronounced as he searched his notes for an answer to one of Dusty’s questions.

Yeah…Dusty definitely didn’t notice any of that…

In the last room on the first floor, Dusty consulted the house’s layout, his eyebrows pinching together. “So, Ms. Pullman didn’t give me any requests about the basement. I didn’t even realize there was one,” he mumbled lowly, comparing his digital layout to the one Harrison had handed him earlier. “Anyway, it might be good for me to see it just in case she changes her mind.” Dusty imagined a few options for the room. A home theater would likely fit the bill. “Could you lead me down there?” Dusty raised his head to offer a polite smile but Harrison’s face was hard now, his jaw clenched. He was staring off to the side.

Harrison’s prolonged silence prompted Dusty to awkwardly shuffle his feet. When his legs felt sore from the movement, he switched to fiddling with his stylus. Dusty cleared his throat, his eyes darting around the floor. “If…if you’re storing equipment or, or it’s too messy…or something, I can see it another day. Or you can send me pictures! Or detailed schematics, maybe?” Dusty shrugged his shoulders before he took a steadying breath. He didn’t look away from the hardwood panels beneath his loafers, analyzing each swirling pattern as if it was the cure for cancer.

When the silence dragged on, his rambling started up again. “I have enough information today if you’d like me to leave,” he rushed out. Only his loud, panicked heartbeat met his proclamation. “Okay, have a good evening, Mr. Grace.” Dusty started to walk around the man, toward the front door, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“No, sorry, let’s go down,” Harrison said bluntly, before pivoting toward a hallway that held one of several bathrooms. Dusty swallowed a retort and quickened his footsteps to keep up, pushing his frustration with Harrison and his building anxiety to the back of his mind. 

Past the bathroom, Harrison stood outside a black-painted door, which he gestured toward. “The door could be replaced to match the interior design or taken out completely.” He backed up to open the door, Dusty scuttling back to avoid contact with the man. “The stairs are pretty narrow but sturdy. There’s plenty of room for wider ones though.” He flipped a switch outside the doorway before taking a step down into the newly-brightened room. 

Dusty took a cautious peek at the steps, deeming them safe to step on. His gaze flitted upward, seeing the arc of Harrison’s brow as he waited for Dusty to finish his perusal. Ducking his head and beginning his descent, Dusty recalled the one smile he’d gotten from the imposing man, a tilt of his lips that spoke of soft kindness in their first meeting. Since then, most of his looks had been somewhat passive but they were veering into the rude vicinity. Dusty had often been deceived by first impressions but he had hoped Harrison would be an exception.

On his fifth step, Dusty, caught in his musings, miscalculated his footfall, catching his heel on the edge to stutter down to the next one. It wouldn’t have been a big deal had he not decided to have leg day that morning then proceed to walk for hours in a giant mansion. I’m a moron, he thought as his knee buckled at the sudden shift of weight. On reflex, he flung himself toward the wall of muscle only two steps down from him. Thud, thud, thud, was the sound of his abandoned tablet tumbling down the stairs. He scrunched his eyes closed at the impact, praying he and Harrison wouldn’t share the same fate.

“Fuck,” Dusty whispered to himself, trying not to move and test his luck. At the sound of a grunt, his eyes pried open, staring into the widened eyes of his savior.

Harry’s head was wrenched back, a hand digging into his skull for balance. His whole neck was exposed, as one did in submission, and he tried to right his head but the death grip didn’t give him an inch. Another hand wrapped around his neck, nearly choking him in the process. When the force of a body hit his back, he stayed steady so neither hand could do further damage, even as his pride took a hit at the un-Beta-like pose.

“Fuck,” a voice rasped out near the crook of his neck. The single syllable was like a shot of adrenaline to his system, more than the surprise attack had been. It reminded him just who was clinging to him, just who was restraining him. Harry’s eyes snapped open, seeing Dusty’s tense face resting on his shoulder, his eyes hidden from view.

The sharp sting of desire coursed through Harry, stronger than it had on his first meeting with the shorter human. On that first day, Harry had been drawn in by what he thought was an angel. Big, guileless eyes that matched a shy demeanor. Unmarred skin and a sinless scent. But that appeal had worn off quickly. He didn’t want someone pure, someone who couldn’t hold their own. He never did but Dusty's looks had made him ignore that fact at first.

And Dusty hadn’t really changed since then. Besides Will’s encounter with him, Harry only saw him as he first did. An angel.

But now…with Dusty gripping him with such dominance, Harry could picture him as a devil. Someone who could tame a wolf without breaking a sweat. His pride forgotten, Harry grew hard at the possibility and he grunted in need.

Dusty blinked his eyes open and opened his mouth. Before he could speak, his eyes darted to where his hands held Harry. They loosened and he pushed himself to his feet behind Harry. A tantalizing scent drifted to Harry, one that he shut out by breathing through his mouth.

“Oh my God, thank you so much, I didn’t mean to grab you like that, did I hurt you?” Dusty’s came out in a rush as his arousal was quickly overtaken by embarrassment. 

“No, I’m fine,” Harry clipped out, not daring to turn around. He didn’t trust his dick. 

“O-oh, okay,” Dusty conceded. 

Good, Harry thought, Maybe we can get through this quickly. He walked the rest of the way down the stairs, Dusty following quietly before he bent over to pick up his tablet. Harry turned away.

Harry was almost positive that showing the basement to Dusty was a bad decision, considering Ms. Pullman’s biggest request involved this room. He didn’t want Dusty looking too closely at this room as construction went on. But Will had convinced him that a peek wouldn’t hurt, and Ms. Pullman could take care of Dusty’s curiosity about the room if need be.

Harry also wanted to leave soon since Rex was requesting his presence at the packhouse. He needed to be there for the in-person brief about the Beta’s accomplishments that day and Rex wasn’t one for patience. That had been evident in the link he had gotten from his fellow packmate, the wolf interrupting his discussion with Dusty just to remind him that he was to be at the packhouse at 7pm sharp. Harry glanced at his watch. He wasn't going to make it in time.

Dusty went about his note-taking, this time without any questions to Harry. He frowned at that realization. Harry had needed distance, both emotional and physical, to recover from the want he couldn’t act on but he liked feeling needed by the human. He almost whined at the loss.

“Okay, I’m finished,” Dusty nodded to himself, then to Harry, his face neutral. “Thank you, Mr. Grace.” He dashed up the stairs before Harry was ready to respond. When he had come up with something to say, he wanted to insist that Dusty use his first name again. And there were other things he'd insist upon the man in his dreams.