by A. J. Stone
Now the alpha’s penetrating gaze skewered Marcel. “Yes, you did.”
“Are you telling him all the same lies you told me? I bet he’s stupid enough to buy it.” The green-eyed monster dictating his actions had turned Marcel into a man he didn’t recognize. “As if you have an honest bone in your body. Whatever gets you laid, right?”
This was different from when he’d pushed Zeke before. Right now, he was out of control. Fueled by an irrational jumble of emotions, he had no idea what he was saying, but he knew he’d regret it later.
Zeke regarded him with steel lining his calm demeanor. “Tread lightly.”
He might as well have told Marcel to calm down. It had the opposite effect. “Fuck that, and fuck you. I’m not afraid of you, Zeke. You come in here, playing like you’re some big badass, when you’re really just a glorified security guard.”
The skin surrounding Zeke’s lips went white because he pressed them together so hard. “I see you’re still dedicated to being unreasonable. The dining room has been cleared as you requested, so I’ll be going now.”
He turned to leave, and at that moment, Marcel’s canine whined. In response, an overwhelming rage—fueled by shame—had him leaping across the space to attack Zeke. It was the opposite of what he really wanted—the firm press of Zeke’s lips against his, the gentle glide of his palm skating across Marcel’s skin, the scrape of whiskers on his inner thigh as the alpha claimed every inch of his body. Instead, his frustrated fists flew, but they didn’t connect. In short order, he found himself wrapped in Zeke’s powerful arms, his back to the alpha’s chest as the stronger man held him immobile.
“Let go of me. I fucking hate you.” Really, Marcel hated himself, but thinking about the reasons behind the tumult of emotion hurt too much, and so he directed the feelings he couldn’t handle at Zeke.
A bark of strangled laughter shot from Zeke. “That’s rich. You hate me because I refuse to stay and suffer your abuse.”
Marcel struggled, fighting Zeke’s hold, but the alpha’s arms were like iron bands.
“This isn’t a cease-fire, cupcake, but if you stop fighting and agree not to attack me again, I’ll let you go, and then I’ll leave peacefully.”
Though the idea of Zeke leaving filled him with a sadness that crushed his chest, Marcel forced his body to relax. He sagged against the alpha, and Zeke’s hold softened. Before he knew what he was doing, Marcel turned in Zeke’s arms and tilted his face up. Subsonic whines escaped from his throat, and his hands slid over the alpha’s biceps to grasp at his shoulders.
“Zeke.” The name, the one he’d been withholding to keep emotional distance between them, floated out on a desperate exhalation.
The alpha heeded his plea. Zeke didn’t bother with a gentle teasing. He closed his lips over Marcel’s devouring him with unrestrained passion. Marcel responded in kind. He opened to the alpha—his alpha—and melted against the body of the man he’d wanted since the moment he walked into that hospital room looking like a sexy god in a three-piece suit.
The kiss heated Marcel from the inside, sparking a blaze that had been smoldering for a month. It drugged him, creating a sharp need while leaving his limbs too heavy to move.
Suddenly Zeke broke the kiss and pushed Marcel away. Stunned, Marcel took a moment to process what was happening. The whites of Zeke’s eyes had turned black, and his dark pupils had become vertical slits. The blue irises were still there, though that hint of color only emphasized the darkness surrounding it. The tip of a forked tongue flickered out to whet Zeke’s lower lip.
The danger of this apex predator was readily apparent, but Marcel could find nothing that inspired fear. If anything, Zeke’s appearance promised a passionate encounter.
“Please don’t stop,” Marcel breathed. He’d never begged in his life, but he’d do it now because that one taste already haunted him.
“You hate me,” Zeke reminded him. “If I get you pregnant, you’ll hate me even more.”
“Wear a condom.” Where had that come from? It was already too late.
“No.”
It didn’t matter. The deed was done. “Fine. No condom. Fuck me anyway.”
Zeke might have been surprised, but his only discernible expression was raw and undisguised need. “You’re sure?”
“Yes. I’m sure.” Marcel lifted his shirt over his head and peeled out of his sweats. He stood unsteadily, not because his ankle was bothering him, but because his body trembled with anticipation.
The alpha’s gaze roved Marcel’s form, drinking in the visual like an elixir. If he noticed Marcel’s rounded belly or understood what it meant, then he didn’t comment. He toed off his shoes and tossed his jacket over the arm of the sofa. In a blur of movement, Zeke scooped Marcel in his arms and carried him to the bedroom. He set Marcel on the bed and settled his weight on top of him.
Marcel spread his legs and wrapped his arms around Zeke’s neck. “Kiss me, Zeke.” Saying the alpha’s name like a caress, Marcel assumed control. He smiled as Zeke’s lips brushed against his, but the moment Zeke’s tongue plundered his mouth, he understood Zeke was the one in control. Marcel might not be a submissive omega, but Zeke was a dominant alpha. He didn’t do things by half measures.
Zeke kissed like a god, staking his claim and taking his due while he left behind sweet bliss. This time when he broke off the kiss, his mouth explored Marcel’s chin and the line of his jaw with the scrape of his teeth and nips from his strong lips. That drugged feeling returned, but this time Marcel’s limbs didn’t feel heavy. Tingles of electricity shot through his synapses, making him writhe.
Marcel wanted to be even closer to Zeke. He arched and undulated, caressing the alpha with grasping strokes and wayward scratches. He tried to undress his lover, but his fingers were all thumbs, and he fumbled the buttons. Mindless with need, he whimpered and moaned as Zeke explored his body.
“Naked,” he begged.
If Zeke heard the plea, he ignored it. His mouth traveled a leisurely path down Marcel’s chest in a series of light bites and barely-there licks. Those strong hands moved over his skin, gently stoking the frenzy. He lifted Marcel, and then the last garment—white boxer briefs—was gone.
Kneeling up, Zeke held Marcel in place with the power of his gaze. It moved across Marcel’s body, reactivating the effect of every single kiss, bite, and caress simultaneously. Marcel struggled not to climax.
Zeke loosened his tie, and then he worked the buttons on his shirt and vest. “Touch yourself, Marcel. I want to see you work that magnificent cock.”
His cock was the single place Zeke hadn’t yet explored. As much as Marcel wanted his alpha to touch him, he knew better than to argue. Now was not the time to drive Zeke over the edge, not with the lizardlike slits his eyes had become. The element of inherent danger made Marcel’s cock even harder.
He fisted his cock. “Do you want to see me come?”
Zeke’s tongue darted out. It was long and thin, with a forked tip that gave his words a sexy sibilance. “Yes.”
The buttons on his shirt open, Zeke shrugged out of it. He tossed the vest, shirt, and tie to the chair beside the bed. Then he rose to his knees to tackle his belt and pants. Marcel watched eagerly as Zeke revealed the actual size of the impressive member he’d felt when the alpha had held him against his body. Last time had been too quick, too frenzied for him to have paid much attention to details, and his animal side only recalled feelings, impressions, and sensations.
As was true of the rest of him, Zeke’s dick was extra large. The long, thick shaft was ribbed, and a single pearl of wetness spilled from the purpled crown. Unable to control himself, Marcel sat up and stole it with a single lick. It tasted heavenly, and he couldn’t stop with a mere sample. Wrapping his hand around Zeke’s cock, he wet the tip and closed his mouth over the smooth head.
Zeke held still as Marcel moaned around his cock. He licked the length, the musky, salty flavor causing him to salivate for even more of a taste. Not nea
rly enough time passed before Zeke grasped Marcel’s head and forced him to abandon his ministrations.
He whined, a subsonic noise that the alpha clearly heard.
With an arrogant grin, Zeke pushed Marcel back and pinned him to the bed. “Cease your whining, cupcake. I’m not going to come in your mouth—this time.”
The whining wasn’t something he could control. It came from his shifter side, a primal force that wouldn’t be denied. But something about being pinned by his alpha calmed the frenzy because it promised to sate the lingering ache.
Zeke lifted Marcel’s legs out of the way, and he positioned his wet cock at Marcel’s sphincter. “Inhale, omega. This won’t hurt unless I want it to.”
With that ominous assurance, Marcel filled his lungs.
“Now let it out slowly.”
As he did, Zeke pressed forward. The bulbous crown stretched his opening. Though it was impossibly large, it didn’t hurt. The exhalation came harder as each ridge impaled him anew, and by the time Zeke was all the way inside, Marcel gasped for air.
Had Zeke taken this kind of care last time? In the blur of memory from that night, Marcel could recall tender touches and the bliss of having Zeke inside him.
“Breathe, Marcel. That’s it. Relax, cupcake. I’m going to make you feel so good, you’ll have plenty of reasons to forget why you hate me.”
“Don’t hate you.” Marcel wrapped his legs around Zeke’s waist and grasped the alpha’s arms for an anchor. “Want you. Need you. Dream about you.”
These were confessions Marcel hadn’t meant to make, but he couldn’t seem to stop the confessional flow. He was grateful when Zeke’s mouth claimed his. Holding his weight on his elbows, the alpha rocked into Marcel, and his tongue swept into Marcel’s mouth. Zeke claimed every part of the omega.
His pace increased, and he fucked Marcel faster, swiveling his hips in a sinful way that elicited frantic cries from Marcel’s depths. Then his hand closed over Marcel’s, ripping it from where he grasped Zeke’s shoulder, and he guided it between their bodies.
“Touch yourself, Marcel. I want to see you climax.”
It wouldn’t take much to get him there. Passion roared through Marcel’s body, and touching his cock made every cell in his body explode with the force of his orgasm. His ejaculate shot out, streams coating his stomach and splashing onto Zeke’s chest.
Without missing a beat, the alpha bent his head down, and that long tongue snaked out, slurping up every drop. Incredibly enough, the distraction didn’t interrupt Zeke’s rhythm. His hips moved faster and faster. The cords on his neck stood out. Very soon, he threw back his head and roared. Flames shot from his mouth as his orgasm emptied into Marcel’s body.
His body shuddered as the last drops wrung from him, and then Zeke collapsed on top of Marcel.
Trembling with the aftershocks, Marcel clung to the alpha he’d rejected. As their bodies cooled, Marcel thought about what it would be like to have Zeke like this all the time. Would he eventually forget he’d ever dreamed of dancing under the spotlight? Could this be enough to keep Marcel from the depths of the abyss that had taken hold of him not so very long ago?
Zeke gently extracted his cock. He pressed a kiss to the hollow of Marcel’s throat, and then he went into the bathroom to clean up.
Everything—from the first kiss to the last—had been both hot and romantic. Zeke hadn’t tempered his passion or hidden his emotions. The alpha was all-in. Marcel had only to accept what he offered.
A small part of him wanted that, but the rest of him vehemently rebelled. Against what, he wasn’t sure. In a little over a month, he would have a baby to care for. Did he want to do that by himself, did he want to give it to Zeke to raise, or did he want to wave farewell to the dream of who he wanted to be?
On the verge of tears, he snatched up his underwear from the floor and slid into it.
Zeke returned. He stood in the doorway, a magnificent specimen that rivaled anything carved in marble, his head cocked to the side as he assessed the situation. “You’ve decided to hate me again.”
“No.” Marcel had never hated Zeke. He hated himself for his weakness. “You should get dressed and go home. Holden will be back soon.”
Danger signs blazed in Zeke’s eyes, but Marcel chose to ignore them. He took one long stride into the room. “I won’t play games with you, Marcel. You belong to me.”
“You have an omega. I saw you with him.”
“He is not mine.” Zeke snatched him up, iron bands around his arms holding him so that only his toes touched the floor. “You are mine, and I am yours.” What began as a violent claim ended with a frantic offering.
“Yeah, right,” Marcel scoffed. He called on the ugliness that came with his self-loathing, and he turned it on Zeke. “You made it pretty clear from the start that you wanted to have sex with me. Maybe I just wanted to keep a roof over my head. Hey — if I keep letting you fuck me, can I stay here for longer than six months?”
That dangerous light turned ominous. “You can stay here for as long as you fucking want. But I won’t let you debase what is between us by taking other lovers. Holden moves out today.”
Marcel knew full well what Zeke thought, though he was a little puzzled that the alpha couldn’t figure out that they were just friends. Surely he could tell by scent alone Marcel hadn’t even entertained the thought of being with another man since the moment he laid eyes on his alpha — even though he’d rejected Zeke’s claim.
And yet Marcel sought to play a dangerous game. “Holden is not moving out. You don’t get to dictate who lives here. That’s not in the settlement.”
With stiff movements, Zeke dressed.
Recognizing that he’d gone too far — he didn’t mind pissing Zeke off, but he ached to see he’d hurt the alpha — Marcel went to him. He set his palms against Zeke’s bare chest, barring him from buttoning his shirt. “He’s not my lover. We’re just friends. You know that.”
Zeke froze. His gaze zeroed in on Marcel’s briefs. “I’m not stupid, Marcel. His scent is all over you.”
The pain hiding behind Zeke’s blue eyes and the stiffness of his shoulders skewered Marcel. He rested his hands on Zeke’s cheeks, seeking to soothe his alpha’s torment. “I swear he’s not. Holden is straight. We’re just friends. I let him stay in the second bedroom, and he helps me out with the things I can’t do.” Then he realized the problem. The alpha shifter could smell everything in the apartment. “These are his underwear, yes. It’s laundry day, and I only have the clothes I brought in my backpack. He lent me the sweats and shirt I was wearing earlier.”
Holden was larger than Marcel, and the tight shirts and leotards Marcel had packed didn’t work well with his increased midsection. He needed paternity clothes.
Disbelief temporarily replaced the pain. “You’re wearing another man’s underwear? The stipend is enough for you to buy your own.”
There had been expenses first month that ate up the stipend — fees to set up various services, purchases related to his injuries, and the cost of transportation since he couldn’t make it to the bus stop. That heavenly sweet potato mash he craved. Knowing any explanation would be inadequate in the face of Zeke’s upset, Marcel shrugged. “I spent it all.”
Zeke’s frown said enough. He disapproved of Marcel’s actions, and he was going to admonish Marcel for not calling him to ask for what he needed.
This was going in a direction Marcel didn’t care to travel. He scrambled for footing. “Look, I’m not sleeping with other guys, okay? But that doesn’t mean we’re together. This was a one-off. Or, a two-off. You were an itch I had to scratch, and now it’s over.”
That harsh gaze impaled Marcel with icicles. Zeke severed contact, pushing Marcel back. “You want to reject your omega nature and my claim on you as your alpha. I can’t—and won’t—force you into a relationship you don’t want. But I won’t pretend what you did today is okay. You used me. You used my need to love and protect you against me, and I will
never forget the depths to which your treacherous heart will sink to get what you want.”
For the first time in his life, Marcel didn’t know what to say. His actions didn’t have anything to do with Zeke. They were the actions of a man who was desperate not to lose everything that made him who he was—and yet, he remained doomed. This wasn’t something a dragon alpha would understand. He knew from his budding friendship with Edgar what he’d have to give up. Edgar served his dragon alpha as a husband and father. He was everything an alpha from an ancient race expected from an omega.
Marcel knew he wasn’t cut out for that life. He’d never be what Zeke wanted him to be, and that fact stabbed at his heart, taunting him with what he could never have—an alpha who respected him and who supported his dreams. It had been easier to accept he’d always be alone when he hadn’t met an alpha who invaded his every thought and made his canine cry with wanting. But now it was different. Now it hurt.
He wanted to argue with Zeke, but he had nothing substantive to say that would sway the alpha. Any reason he gave would only induce Zeke to argue against him, especially if he admitted he was pregnant. Marcel sat heavily on the bed, his gaze as sullen and dark as his thoughts.
Zeke left the room. When he returned a few minutes later, he was fully dressed. He extracted his wallet from his inside breast pocket and opened it up. He pulled out a wad of cash and tossed it to the bed. The stack of bills hit the mussed cover and scattered. “That should be enough for underwear of your own and some new clothes.”
Then he was gone. The apartment was noticeably colder and lonelier.
Marcel glanced at the cash, automatically counting the five hundred in various bills. He wondered if Zeke’s goal had been to make him feel as used as he’d made Zeke feel. If so, mission accomplished.
A single tear slipped down his cheek, and then a torrent followed.