by N. J. Lysk
It wouldn't be even half an hour walking from Peckham, but walking was a little too slow for his speeding pulse. “We could get hoverboards.”
“Really?” The man sounded shocked but delighted. Uri almost asked him his age, but it didn’t seem like the kind of question to ask someone who’d simply offered a little pleasure—not when he was clearly legal, at least.
“What?” Uri demanded, raising his eyebrows. “A guy in a suit can’t have fun?”
“Oh, I’m sure you are a lot of fun,” Thomas assured him with a slow, deliberate look down his body, and gods, he was shameless.
Uri used the excuse of searching for a hoverboard station to look away from him, hoping the light was low enough to hide his blush. It seemed a little unfair that he had to deal with all the... side-effects of not being Caucasian without at least getting skin dark enough to hide his feelings. From betas, at least, alphas and omegas also got the benefit of being able to figure out his emotions from his pheromones.
Since children weren’t allowed to ride real hoverboards, the floating rides that went fast enough to be effective transportation for short distances were almost always the exclusive domain of teenagers thirteen and older.
Uri still remembered getting up at the crack of dawn the day he was due to attend the qualification course at his school. He was not a morning person, but it had been worth every minute to suddenly have the freedom to move around the city on his own. There was nothing wrong with the buses and trams, sure, but it was nothing to having his own vehicle. Hoverboards identification codes meant that all your routes were recorded so they could not get lost and so that any damage detected when the board returned to the base after you were done with it and sent it floating could be paid for by the real culprit. It’d seemed harmless enough when he’d been told about it back when he’d signed up for it, but of course, it hadn’t taken that long for someone to think of other uses for that data. In the fallout of the kidnapping case where the perpetrators had snatched a kid off their hoverboard, parents had acquired the right to request their children’s movements to ensure their safety.
There was a kid at the centre whose abusive mother had tracked them down that way; two hours later, they’d made it through the front door with a broken collarbone, two weeks later Uri had been called in by the Peckham Children’s Home after the judge had decided a long-term adoption centre made more sense than a foster family who couldn’t warranty the mother wouldn’t find the kid again.
Legally, there was nothing to stop her from requesting the company track her kid’s hoverboard again.
“Hey,” Thomas said. Uri stopped to look at him.
“You looked really far away,” the beta told him. He was right, of course, but Uri had no idea how he could tell. Thomas didn’t press, returning to his natural bonhomie. “You sure you remember how to ride, old man?”
“Oh, I can ride,” he said, not looking away. Thomas hid it well, but he couldn’t quite suppress his reaction to the innuendo. Good, it cost Uri to say things like that, but he couldn’t quite let someone dominate the conversation so completely.
In truth, Uri couldn’t remember the last time he’d taken out a hoverboard—the firm he worked for was in Oval, which was far enough from Brixton to require a tram, and his parents’ place was so close to work he almost always visited after he was done. The homemade dinners and intelligent conversation after a whole day of struggling to convince people other people mattered and the law did indeed support that view... Well, sometimes going home was all that made the day bearable.
He loved his job. It was hard, and he loved the challenge; or at least he loved the results enough to make the sweat seem worth it. But he needed the safety of a place where no one questioned his most basic beliefs about humanity, where they had taught him those beliefs, not simply telling him what was right, but showing him the way you behaved like a decent human being by listening to what others needed and trying your hardest to give it to them.
Not that there weren’t plenty of conversations, too. Ruth was a philosophy professor at a local college and Esti was a social worker, so there was very little in their lives that didn’t need to be analysed for moral failings. But sometimes he was too exhausted to talk, and then he could just go home—to the place that still felt like home to him even a decade after he’d moved out to go to university—and be with people who understood. The people who’d taught him how to bear the pain of failure and the struggle of a just fight and keep going, which was to say, the people who’d taught him to sit down and eat a good meal, laugh at a silly comedy and sleep in on Sundays.
His mothers and he didn’t really talk about sex. Esti had saved David and him the embarrassment by matriculating them into a sex education seminar at around the same time they’d got their hoverboarding licenses. But the same principle applied here: seize the moment and share the joy.
He unhooked the hoverboard with his foot, stealing a glance at Thomas only to find him shaking his head.
“Show off,” he accused while he used the manual disengage mechanism. He then proceeded to jump on the board, making it wobble for a moment before he used what must have been rock solid core muscles to stabilize it. He met Uri’s eyes, eyebrows raised. “Coming?”
Uri snorted, not sure if the pun was intentional, and Thomas’s smile turned up a little further as if to confirm that yes, his sense of humour was that immature.
He stepped onto the board before tapping twice with his toe to get it in the air, not wanting to risk falling on his face in front of the guy with the professionally trained reflexes. Then he decided to prove that he wasn’t that mature either and shot ahead of Thomas, brushing by his side fast enough to risk making him stumble. The risk was minimal because the board only hovered about thirty centimetres off the ground, but it set his heart hammering as he leaned a little further forward than the still-crowded streets made wise.
It was reckless, especially when he was rusty, but he couldn’t do anything else with the rush of adrenaline suddenly pumping through him. It needed out, and whether it was the board or the guy cursing him out a few feet behind, it needed out now.
He turned onto a side street, not caring about destination, just about finding some space to let loose where he wouldn’t crash into anyone. He got lucky; the street was big enough for motorbikes but old enough to have cobblestones, which would keep all sensible people on wheels well away. He bent his knees and pushed his shoulders forward for a little extra momentum and laughed out loud as the wind rushed through his hair and made his dress jacket flap around him. Like a cape, he thought, remembering Thomas’s comment about Kyeran.
Something sped past him and he clenched his eyes shut even as he straightened to keep his balance. “Tosser!” he called out as soon as he was sure he wasn’t going to fall head first into a garbage bin.
Thomas, who was the worst of show-offs, turned his board in a broad circle so he could meet Uri’s eyes. His smirk only made Uri want to bite his mouth all the more, but before he had a chance to do anything, Thomas offered a jaunty wave and turned onto the next street, even narrower and practically deserted except for a veiled figure who, after pausing for an instant to assess whether they were a threat, kept walking on the other side walk.
Uri leaned forward, urging his board to speed up and keeping his shoulders tense for balance.
Thomas, who’d slowed down enough to look back at him again, met his eyes across the distance and signed, {Catch me?} With eyebrows raised and mouth wickedly curved. He waited a moment, long enough to see Uri’s reaction, then turned and raced away.
Uri hadn’t quite decided but he found himself following at once, his body responding to the challenge as if by some deep instinct. He never knew if those were an alpha’s aggressiveness or human folly. He normally cared—maybe too much. But right now, all he knew were the fresh air—a little cold even—and the man in front of him, banking hard as he reached the corner going way too fast. Uri closed the distance between them, wonde
ring if there was someone he couldn’t see. But a quick look proved the streets were safely empty.
As far as he could tell, Thomas had simply stopped at the crossing. “You okay?” he asked, a little confused.
Thomas looked up, seemingly from very far away. “Yeah, just... Maybe this is a bit dangerous.”
He seemed strangely vulnerable. “Didn’t think hockey players cared that much about their physical integrity,” Uri joked.
It was the wrong thing to say; Thomas frowned. “I don’t care that much about getting hurt on the ice, and anyone who’s on it with me knows the score. But hurting someone here because I’m being irresponsible is completely different.”
Uri stared at him, mind reeling. “I’m sorry,” he said after a beat. “I— it wasn’t funny.”
“I... Dammit. I’m sorry.” Thomas swallowed, turning his face away and exhaling slowly, his light blond hair was puffing up endearingly, but he rubbed his face like he felt old beyond his years. “For snapping at you.”
He was half a head taller, and broader too, but seeing him slump forward like that called to every protective urge in Uri’s brain—and if it was an alpha thing, it was the only one he had never minded. Being a good person was hard enough without overanalysing if what made you try to help others was biology or nurture. In the end, only the results counted. He slid his board close enough that the anti-crash mechanism slowed him down. He reached out to gently cup Thomas’s elbow. His skin was colder now, and he didn’t lean into the touch. Uri kept it light but squeezed once, making his presence known without pushing. “We can slow down, it’s a nice night.”
The beta raised his eyes, still not quite back to normal, and looked around. “Is it?”
“Well, for London,” Uri clarified. He made his hand open, the other man seemed better now, there was no reason to cling.
That earned him a snort from Thomas. “Okay, then. Let’s take a leisurely stroll... My place isn’t far,” he added somewhat hesitatingly.
“Good,” Uri reassured him. “You promised me a drink.”
URI COULDN’T HAVE SAID how long it’d taken them to reach the right block of flats. Once they weren’t racing, it became harder to ignore that what Thomas was really offering wasn’t a drink. There was nothing wrong with casual sex, of course, but it wasn’t really Uri’s thing. It didn’t matter how often he was told dating betas could be nothing but for him. Maybe he wouldn’t bond to a beta, but then again, the idea of bonding an omega wasn’t—
His thoughts came to a halt when he saw the hall they’d just walked into. Marble floors and silver details, as well as enough decorative plants the building had to be paying a water usage plus.
Thomas seemed to catch on to his surprise because he turned to seek his gaze. “The team gives us the flats for a flat fee. They like to be able to find us,” he added with a shrug and a boyish smile.
Uri almost mentioned how utterly creepy that was, but he bit it back. He probably had already upset the man enough for one night. Even if they would only have this night.
Especially if they’d only have this night.
“It’s beautiful,” he said instead.
Thomas shrugged, clearly assuming Uri was just being polite. “Come on, the stairs are this way.”
So the electricity regulation on lifts still applied. That was good, he supposed. Uri had never lived anywhere with a lift, but it was meant to be used only for the higher floors and those who needed it. By the time they made it to the second landing, he started to suspect he might have been a little too out of shape for the stairs. He was panting a little—while Thomas could have clearly kept going without breaking a sweat—when the beta stopped so suddenly he had to reach out and steady himself by clutching at Thomas’s hip.
He looked up, expecting an explanation, and found Thomas’s green eyes sparkling. He allowed a beat to pass between them before he reached out and put a big hand on Uri’s cheek. It was an odd position, standing below someone who was already taller than him, and... Thomas’s eyes flickered down. To his lips, he was sure of it. “I really want to kiss you,” he confirmed, which seemed like a question except that he was already bending closer.
Uri tightened his hold on Thomas’s shirt and straightened to his full height, allowing his face to be tilted upwards. Thomas’s lips were a little dry, maybe from the wind, maybe from the ice he spent so much time on, but it didn’t matter for long—after the first warm brush of mouths, his tongue came out to lick at the seal of Uri’s lips. Uri sucked on it, suddenly desperate. Thomas grunted into the kiss, and Uri’s instinct to pull him closer would have sent them crashing down the stairs if Thomas hadn’t had the foresight to take hold of the banister.
He threw himself backwards as he pulled and Uri stumbled but managed to regain his footing and keep them both upright. Slowly, he lifted his face from where it’d ended up pressed to Thomas’s collarbone. He was still panting, from excitement or terror, or both. And then he met Thomas’s eyes and his breath left him in a rush; it took him a second to realise the man was laughing.
His laughter was possibly the only unattractive thing about him, high and nasal and nothing like the smooth tenor of his voice, but that set Uri off too. It was a good feeling, leaning on a warm body as he laughed away the fear. “Oh, gods. I’m— I’m sorry,” he managed to get out between guffaws.
Despite the shared hilarity, Thomas lowered his hand from Uri’s shoulder—where it’d ended up as they flailed—to his elbow so he could tug him up a step. He was still taller, but he was near enough to kiss again. And if Uri gave in, he thought as it stopped being funny and started getting hot again, they were guaranteed to fall down the stairs. It was clear Thomas’s plans were always going to be a little on the dangerous side. Uri shook his head, turning his face away. “What floor?”
“Third,” Thomas answered, lips brushing his ear in a clear provocation.
Uri shot him an incredulous look, taking a step back with the strength of his indignation. “We’re almost there?!”
Thomas shrugged, leaning back against the wall at his back and making Uri realise his hand was still clenched on the other man’s shirt. “I thought it’d get weird if...”
Uri leaned in and pressed a quick peck to his lips, enough to shut him up but not enough to taste him. He couldn’t let himself taste him again, not and... He let go and stepped back, Thomas’s hand on his shoulder falling away. “Go get me that drink,” he ordered, pointing upwards with his head.
Thomas smiled like he’d been complimented, then gave an almost regal nod. “Yes, sir.” But instead of moving, he glanced downwards. It took Uri a long moment to realise he had to give him more space if he expected him to turn enough to continue climbing up the stairs. He chose to take a cautious step down, taking hold of the opposite banister just in case.
He heard Thomas’s feet pounding up the steps, even faster than before. Maybe he’d given the man good incentive to hurry, or maybe he was simply that young and fit, of course.
Gods, what had possessed him to do this? He followed more slowly, already hoping the drink would settle his nerves. Maybe just enough to tell Thomas... The door was open already, soft light spilling into the equally fancy corridor.
He walked through the doorway like he was going into court, heart battering and mind sharp with nerves. Maybe that’s where he got the confidence to close the door behind him without hesitating. But he hadn’t prepared any arguments. He didn’t think there were any for Thomas’s warm smile and the bottles he’d set on the table for Uri to choose from.
“So are you a beer guy or more of a whiskey person?”
“Neither,” Uri admitted, then shook himself. “But give me whiskey. Please.”
“Ice?” Thomas offered, already getting a low glass and pouring.
“Um, yeah,” Uri agreed. He had never tried whiskey, but he couldn’t think of a single beverage that tasted better at room temperature.
Thomas’s fridge turned out to have an ice compartment th
at helpfully spewed out some cubes into the glass like a robot in a science fiction movie. Thomas turned his way and set the glass down, then offered an apologetic smile and lifted his hand to his mouth to... lick it. Uri stared, forgetting the drink, air, and the universe.
The show must not have been intentional because Thomas caught him looking and pulled his hand away at once, proving he was capable of blushing. It looked good on him, like everything else. The fair skin of his high cheekbones had gone the darkest, the flush fading a little towards the sides of his face.
“I forgot you put the ice in before the whiskey,” he explained, then went and opened the beer for himself.
Uri took a sip of his whiskey, then grimaced at the burn. Ugh, why did people drink this?
He heard Thomas laugh. “You wanna sit, maybe?” his host offered.
Uri checked the level of his drink—unfortunately high—and pulled out a chair from the beautiful glass table. He frowned, rubbing his thumb against it; it weighed so little that he was a little unsure about sitting on it.
“Doesn’t seem real, does it?” Thomas asked, sitting on the identical chair across the table. “It’s some polymer or something.”
Uri gave in and carefully took a seat; he was fairly sure Thomas outweighed him by at least twenty kilos of pure muscle so he was probably not going to break the thing. “Let me guess, the flat came furnished?”
He got a shrug in response. “Well, yeah. You think they want their players to spend time buying furniture when they could be putting in time on the ice?”
Uri took another sip and managed not to wince. “Don’t you have to do that anyway?”
“Well, some practices are optional, so...”
Chapter Three: Thomas
“You go to every single one anyway?” Uri guessed.
Thomas didn’t quite manage to hide his smile. “I don’t go to morning practice sometimes, if I have something more interesting to do...” He raised his eyebrows and put the beer to his mouth for a long pull that exposed his throat—there was no way he was going to figure out how easy it was to make the man blush and not take advantage of it.