Heaven's Ballroom

by Aiden Bates

  He took my wrists in his hands, his body crushing against mine as we stumbled back against the wall. The weight of him, his hips grinding against my hips and his chest flush with mine, felt like a heavy blanket over my body on a cold night. It struck me how fucking lucky I was—that Noah and I could both admit what a bastard I’d been, and that somehow despite it all, he still wanted to kiss me anyway.

  I guessed there was no accounting for the desperation of pregnancy hormones. I didn’t want to question it too much—because he didn’t give me time to, and because if I did, it might stop and I never wanted it to stop. Not ever again.

  His lips were hot, burning with hunger as he pressed them to me. The left corner of my mouth, then the right, then smack dab in the center, his tongue slipping between my lips and flicking against my tongue, a loose flame that he could tease me with until he consumed me whole. I met it eagerly, closing my eyes and breathing him in. Every inhale bathed me in gratefulness. His heat. His scent. The sheer head rush of being this close to him, and the rewarding flush of need that surged through me, rising up through the muscles of my chest and turning my body to wildfire in response to his every move.

  “Shouldn’t have lied to you,” I purred, gasping as he pulled away.

  He looked up at me like the Romans must have looked at the villages they claimed before they set torch to them. Like something conquered. Something owned.

  “No more lies,” he said.

  “No more lies,” I echoed.

  Then his lips were on mine again, the heaviness of my guilt lifting and being replaced with the weight of his forgiveness. It was an unspoken promise—conditional, but real. The kiss said what Noah was too kind to say out loud: Don’t you dare fuck this up again, and in response, I chanted the words in my head like a mantra.

  No more lies. No more lies.

  His teeth nipped at my jawline, my neck, and I was lost in it. He could have sunk them into me so hard he drew blood and I would have thanked him for it. Instead, I internalized that fire that rose up inside me and let it course through my veins until it roared and crackled, all-important and all-consuming.

  Fucking this up again was the last thing on my mind right now. Fucking Noah, though…

  There were other things in the room more worthy of a good fuck.

  Sharply, I twisted my wrists beneath his and broke free of his hold. I spun him around, pressing his chest to the wall and undoing his shirt, his pants—from the way he gasped, maybe even his mind—while I moved against him from behind. My lips dipped to his ear so he could feel my breath, the heat of me. My teeth nipped at his earlobe in warning.

  “You’re mine,” I told him.

  He sighed, nodding slightly. “I’m yours.”

  My own clothes, I removed one-handedly, tossing them to the floor as they came away. I didn’t want anything between us anymore. No clothing. No half-truths. No more lies. Anything between Noah’s skin and mine was a nuisance, and if that meant ruining my best shirt when the buttons tore away and scattered to the floor, that was fine.

  “This,” I growled, curling my hand around his abs and pulling his hips back toward me. Not showing yet, no—but I knew beneath his six-pack, there was a baby growing in his womb. My baby. Ours. “This is mine.”

  “Couldn’t be anyone else’s,” Noah said with a sharp little laugh.

  I cut the laugh short with my teeth on his neck this time, scraping against his flesh. My tongue followed, smoothing down his jugular, feeling his pulse quicken against my lips. Achingly, my cock settled between the muscular cheeks of his ass, my hips working with a mind of their own as they pumped my length up and down the valley, jerking me off with nothing more than how hot and hard his body was against mine.

  “Ace,” he gasped, and I pushed myself between his cheeks.

  His hole was soaked for me, clenching in desperation for my rock-hard dick as I glided effortlessly inside him. That wetness, combined with white-hot pleasure of the way his channel clung to my thickness, would’ve been enough to set me off immediately. My balls tensed in readiness for it—to fill his ass with my cum all over again. To reassure him that I was his and he was mine. Forever this time. For good.

  “Ace,” he moaned, low and sweet.

  I’d planned on being gentle with him. Passionate, but soft. Instead, he rocked his hips back against me, taking me deeper still, and any possibility for gentleness went right out the goddamn window, lost to the street and the moonlight. I gave him short, sharp thrusts, stimulating the edges of his tight, wet hole then pressing as deep as my length would allow. The hand that wasn’t cupping his belly, keeping it safe from my roughness, reached around his waist to grip his cock. He was slick there too, precum coating his tip and dripping all the way down his shaft. I caught him in time with my own rhythm, thrusting and stroking him deliciously so that every part of him felt completely fucked. Totally satisfied.

  “Fuck, Ace,” he swore, arching and writhing against me like I was tearing his whole world apart. “I’m close—I’m so close.”

  “Your ass or your cock?” I asked, grazing his shoulder with my teeth.

  “Both,” he panted. “God. Please. Both.”

  His balls tightened against my fist as I quickened my pace on both fronts. I could feel him losing control beneath me. I hadn’t been in control of myself to start with. The world crescendoed around us, sinking our consciousnesses into a hot, wet red velvet place, and I knew then that we’d come together. Hard, intensely, every muscle of both our bodies clenching at once.

  “I love you,” I snarled, my cum rushing up out of my balls and through the length of my shaft. “Fuck, Noah! I love you—I love you—I—”

  “I love you too,” he hissed, his breath a repeating staccato. His cum waterfalled down my fist, cock twitching frantically beneath my fingers. “God, Ace, I love you too.”

  And all I could do was lean forward, resting my cheek against his as I filled his ass full of my thick, rich cum. If he hadn’t already been pregnant with my baby, I would have gotten him pregnant all over again then. Noah trembled beneath me, my every move only seeming to set him off more. I settled for staying still. Holding my breath, then releasing it in long, cool exhales down his chest, which only made him shiver harder.

  We stayed there for longer than my brain could comprehend. Making soft, sweet noises at each other. Relishing the thrill of it, this closeness, being one.

  Forever, this time. For good. No more lies.

  I slipped my cock out of him after what felt like a perfect century, still hard and still longing for him. “How was that?” I asked, and he laughed.

  “Christ, Ace. Just…Christ.”

  “That good, huh?”

  I glanced at the hall to the bedroom, suddenly aware that we hadn’t even made it out of the doorway. Hell—I was surprised we’d even made it that far. My cock leapt up against him at the thought of taking him to bed, pulsating and slick against his thigh.

  “Mm. No, I think what you just did to me…” His eyes glinted teasingly as he turned to kiss me. “It was downright criminal, Ace.”

  I laughed at the joke as he pressed his lips to mine. I’d been wondering how to tell him. Wondering if it’d ever come up.

  “So I guess you’ve seen the police reports.”

  He grinned, pleased with himself. “Blake has NYPD connections. I’ve known from the start.”

  I purred, low and throaty, as he claimed my neck with his kiss. “I didn’t do it, for what it’s worth. Took the fall for my dad. Paid for it. Dumbest decision of my entire life.”

  “Other than losing me,” he pointed out.

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “Other than that. But I’m not a killer. Just an idiot.”

  He laughed. “I’ll say. It doesn’t matter, though. Sounds like you did more than your fair share of time.”

  “For that offense, maybe.”

  He lowered his cheek to my jawline, nuzzling me lovingly. “My parents always warned me that if I moved to New York I�
��d end up impregnated by a criminal. Seems fitting that they were actually right.”

  “And what about all my other crimes?” I asked, closing my eyes and enjoying the feel of his skin against mine.

  “Oh, I’m sure you’ll be punished fairly for those as well,” he cooed with promise.

  Christ. Even when we were discussing my sordid past, he made my fucking cock throb.

  “You know…we could continue this conversation somewhere more comfortable,” I pointed out.

  He laughed, his hands cupping my jawline as he pulled me down for another passionate kiss.

  “I think as long as I have you, I’m going to be comfortable for a very long time.”

  I raised an eyebrow, basking in the sweetness of his tongue against mine. “Does that mean you don’t want to…?”

  “Oh, no,” he assured me, wickedness flashing in the blues of his eyes. “I want to. I want to very much.”

  Then his fingers were twining with mine as we raced down the hall. At the end of it, it felt like I’d find the beginning of our lives.

  We trusted each other. We believed in each other. And after all we’d been through together…

  Comfortable for a very long time sounded pretty fucking nice.

  Epilogue

  Eliot

  It was, hands down, the most embarrassing night of my life.

  Taking my clothes off for money—it wasn’t exactly the kind of future I’d planned for myself when I graduated high school. Places like The Backdoor preyed on idiot dreamers like me, stupid idealists who moved out to New York thinking that they were one critically acclaimed off-Broadway play away from making it big. But then we spent the first half of our savings on an apartment deposit, the second half on our first month’s rent, and just when we were considering posing nude for NYU art students at twenty bucks a pop, men like Wesley Harmon swept in to promise us everything we’d ever dreamed of and more.

  Which was exactly how I ended up in a slutty priest outfit on a shitty strip club stage, realizing how much I hated myself while I stumbled my way through butchered Latin and flicked “holy water” at the unimpressed Alphas standing in the front row. As Ben, a more slender dancer, approached the stage for me to “exorcise” him, the crowd began to boo and I gave him a little shake of my head.

  Don’t bother embarrassing yourself, my look said.

  The defeated look that he shot back at me as he slumped away and I followed was the final hammer to my spirit that I needed. I didn’t know who’d convinced Wesley that a goddamn Exorcist theme night was exactly what The Backdoor needed to draw a crowd, but I’d bet my rosary that they didn’t have the club’s best intentions at heart. I stuffed it into my pocket as I stormed offstage and out the door, stripping my black-and-white collar away from my neck and throwing it into the trash on my way out.

  Sexy fucking priests. There was reaching, then there was that. At best, every shift I picked up at The Backdoor was demoralizing and humiliating. At worst, I had to stand in front of a bunch of horny, bored men and pretend to save a “possessed” Omega twink from a sex-crazed lust demon, armed with nothing more than a battered copy of Pride and Prejudice dressed up like a bible and the so-called grace of God.

  Outside in the parking lot, I raised my eyes to starless sky and prayed for forgiveness as I fumed. If not to God himself, then at least to William Shakespeare and Lin Manuel-Miranda. The lead role in Death of a Salesman and a high school production of Macbeth had blown my ego up before I came to New York. I’d thought I was going to be hot shit as soon as I convinced some lovesick director to cast me in something on Broadway. Now that I knew what the industry was really like, my ego had deflated like a week-old party balloon. A six-pack and a set of broad, rippling shoulders didn’t mean shit here when everyone else had exactly the same. Here in the city, my body wasn’t seen as anything more than something sexy to stare at while the Alphas who owned this city decided who they most wanted to fuck for the night—and my acting skills, apparently, weren’t anything to write home about either.

  “Eliot,” Ben hissed, poking his head out the back exit, nervousness in his eyes. “Get back in here! Wesley is pissed.”

  “Pissed drunk, maybe.” My back molars ground together with contempt for our boss. “He’d have to be, to think this whole Ave Maria thing was ever a good idea in the first place.”

  “Well, yeah. He’s fucking wasted,” Ben agreed, combing his fingers through his mousy brown hair. He’d talked about dying it blond like mine, but I was a natural. The color of cornsilk and Kansas sunshine. On Ben, I knew, it would’ve looked garish. Fake. Exactly what Wesley Harmon wanted, come to think. “But he wants us to finish the set.”

  “I’d rather eat a dick,” I said honestly. At least with a cock in my mouth, no one would fucking boo at me then.

  “Yeah, well, you might have to if you don’t go back on,” Ben pointed out. “Says he’s withholding your paycheck if you won’t come back in and finish what we started.”

  “Shit,” I swore, soft and low. I knew exactly how much money I had in my wallet—not even enough to get the subway home that night. Trust Wesley Harmon to choose the world’s most embarrassing stage show to coincide with payday on opening night.

  “Yeah. I know, man. I’m just as broke as you are, remember?”

  I sighed, feeling just as annoyed with Ben as I was with Wesley—and, while I was at it, with myself. At least Ben had been a dancer at Heaven’s Ballroom at one point. He only had his own idiocy to blame for jumping ship when Wesley had offered him twice the pay—then immediately failed to follow through on it. Me, I’d only planned on working at the Backdoor until I could catch my “big break”—which I was beginning to suspect would never even come. I would have auditioned at the Ballroom in a heartbeat…if between my shifts and my other auditions, I’d ever found the time.

  “I can’t do it, Ben.” Admitting defeat wasn’t really my style, but I’d be damned if I was going back out on stage just because Wesley wanted me to that night. “Are you still seeing that Alpha from the Upper East Side? Maybe he could give us a ride home…”

  “No,” Ben said, flushing crimson. “I, uh…yeah, I might have kind of slept with his stepson. That ship has sailed, sunk, washed up onto shore in little pieces.”

  “Fuck.” Another item of annoyance on Ben’s ever-mounting tab. Not only had he thrown away the best dancing gig in town for Omegas like us, but he also couldn’t keep it in his pants for long enough to string a relationship along for more than a week or two. They said that cheaters never prospered, and I was inclined to agree—but Christ, it didn’t seem fair that I’d get caught up in the crossfire as well.

  “Come on,” Ben urged. “Just ten more minutes. We take our clothes off, give a few lap dances…”

  “No,” I said again. “No—fuck, I’m not going to do it. You do what you want, but when you’re done, do me a favor and tell Wesley that I quit. He can keep my fucking money.”

  “Then how the hell do you think you’re going to pay rent this month?”

  I gritted my teeth even harder, glancing up again at the cloud-streaked sky. I wished I had an answer for him, but I didn’t. All I knew was that I wasn’t going to go back in there, not even if I was being paid to. Not again. Not after tonight.

  “Whatever,” Ben spat, shaking his head and backing away from the door. “Your fucking funeral, man. Find your own way home, then.”

  The door slammed shut behind him, leaving me shirtless, clad only in a pair of shiny black dress shoes and some breakaway priest’s slacks. I realized a moment too late that I’d left my wallet in the dressing room—but when I yanked at the door, I found that it had locked from the inside.

  “Shit,” I swore again, pounding my fist on the metal. It reverberated through my knuckles, shivering up the muscles of my arm.

  I really was alone now. Maybe more alone than I’d felt since I first got off the bus in this godforsaken city.

  But then, I felt a presence shift at the mout
h of the alleyway leading to the street.

  Not alone, then.

  Not quite.

  “Sorry,” a voice called out, deep and strong, but somewhat hesitant. I recognized the man as an Alpha straight away. Taller than me by a few inches, with a jawline so strong he could’ve led armies on the power of his good looks alone. He had dark, ruddy hair, a brown so deep that it caught streaks of red in the streetlight as he approached. “Don’t take this the wrong way or anything, I just overheard…”

  “It’s fine,” I said, waving him away. Some would-be knight in shining armor was the last thing I needed for the night. Especially when he was the kind that hung out around places like the alleyway behind The Backdoor. “Really, I’m fine.”

  “No,” he said gently, a look of sympathy set in his brow. “It’s just…do you need a ride?”

  I blinked, taken aback by the sudden offer of charity. Back in Kansas, that kind of thing came easy to people. I was raised to give up the shirt off my back if I saw someone who I thought might need it more. But here in New York…

  He shrugged off his jacket, holding it out to me like an olive branch. It was only then that it struck me—I didn’t even a shirt on my back to give anymore.

  “I don’t need help from some city slicker Alpha,” I told him, trying to sound polite and failing miserably. I’d been raised right, but I’d also been raised proud. One glance at that jacket told me that it was worth more than everything I owned combined. “Thanks, but I meant it. I’m fine.”

  He stood there for a moment, staring at me in a way that I wasn’t accustomed to. Normally, Alphas didn’t look at Omegas like that. Being sized up like a piece of meat in a butcher’s shop—I was used to that. But there was a difference between being looked at, and being seen.

  It hit me that finally, someone was finally doing more than just looking at me for the first time all night.

  “It’s not really an offer,” the man said, a tiny smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re standing around shirtless outside the sleaziest strip club in town—and I’ve just heard that you don’t have the money to get home.”