by Zoe Perdita
“You need to get that suit off. Clean up. Get to bed,” Davis said and reached forward.
He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have touched Ken right then, because it sparked something in his brain that shouldn’t have been sparked at a moment like that. Not after the night they had. Davis shouldn’t think about Ken being naked on the couch with another man, but he did.
His brain was a total asshole.
Ken still trembled under Davis’s hands, but the touch didn’t shock him out of whatever the hell was wrong with him in the first place. Maybe he just realized what kind of danger they’d been in, and it finally caught up to him.
Reasonable, considering Ken had been sheltered most of his life.
Since Ken didn’t move, Davis slipped the suit jacket off his shoulders. Normally, he’d have dropped it on the floor and been done with it, but Ken was a neat freak. Emphasis on neat, so he slung it over the back of a kitchen chair instead.
“This would work better in the bathroom,” Davis mumbled.
Ken nodded with a slight dip of his chin, and Davis pulled the omega forward. At least Ken responded. Although, once they got to the bathroom Ken still didn’t try to help undress himself.
He stood still, hands balled into fists, chest heaving and eyes wide, as Davis yanked off the navy blue tie around Ken’s neck. That went in the sink. Then, his fingers danced over the buttons on Ken’s shirt.
One.
Two.
Four.
Each one revealed another few inches of Ken’s chest – the gentle curve of muscle hidden under his skin, like he did yoga or Pilates or something. And, fuck, he probably did.
Davis yanked the shirt out of Ken’s pants, and his stomach did this weird little dance. Here he was, undressing his best friend after one of the most traumatic experiences Ken had ever had, and he was getting a rush thinking about it. How vulnerable Ken looked at the moment. Just like he did when he told Davis the truth about his sexuality all those years ago, and Davis did nothing but hug him.
He could do a lot more now, and Ken would let him.
Yeah, his brain was a total asshole.
Slowly, well, slower than he needed to, Davis slipped the wet shirt off Ken’s arms. It dragged over Ken’s skin, leaving a line of goosebumps in its wake, and Ken took a deep breath.
A jolt shot straight to Davis’s cock.
What. The. Fuck?
He closed his eyes. Breathed in through his nose and out through his mouth. It moved over Ken’s chilled skin, and his entire being filled with Ken’s distinct scent. “You want me to take off your pants too?”
“Yes,” Ken said softly, his voice hitched and far away.
So that was the first thing he said when they got back. Davis almost laughed. Really!
But who the hell was Davis to say no? He was the one who got Ken into this mess to begin with. Unlike before, he’d fix the problems he caused now.
Still, in order to fix this problem, he didn’t need to brush his fingertips over Ken’s lips. But he wanted to feel them. Yeah, they were as soft as they looked. And they gave like he thought they would – like his goddamn bastard mind told him they would.
Ken’s mouth pressed into Davis’s hand. Kissed, just like they’d done before, and the sensation settled in Davis’s balls.
Davis swallowed and let his hands fall over Ken’s heaving chest. Davis’s fingers flitted over the almost smooth flesh. The hint of barely perceptible hair, as soft as down, brushed his fingertips. Davis dragged them over the skin and stopped at Ken’s hardened nipples, a shade somewhere between pink and brown.
Ken sucked in a breath at the touch, but he didn’t pull away or tell Davis to stop.
Of course he didn’t.
And Davis knew why Ken let him, and Davis did it anyway because he was an asshole. Not just his brain or his hands but all of him. Every single inch of him.
Since he was an asshole, he didn’t stop. He licked his lips – how did his mouth get so dry? When his fingers reached the edge of Ken’s pants, the material damp but not soaking like the shirt and suit jacket, Davis slipped to his knees.
Why?
Fuck if he knew.
Scratch that.
He did know.
Because that’s what Ken wanted him to do.
His apology and all – the one trapped in his head could come out in a different way – and it was the best apology he’d ever given.
First the button.
Then the zipper.
Davis hooked his thumbs in Ken’s slacks and tugged them down with the boxers.
Ken’s hips snapped with the movement, and he let out a sound between a whimper and a moan as the material slid over his flesh and pooled at his ankles. At some point, he must’ve heeled off his wet loafers because they were no longer on his feet.
Only his wet socks remained, and Davis didn't give a shit about them at the moment.
How could he?
His knees dug into Ken’s green bathroom rug, which was just as fluffy as it looked, and his ass pressed into the heels of his muddy boots, but none of that mattered when Ken’s glorious cock throbbed right there.
The tip leaked with a little drop of milky pre-come, and Davis breathed in Ken’s musk. It was so close. So delicate with that hint of spice right at the end.
They’d never been in this exact position before. But they’d been the other way around. Only Ken was drunk (probably way too drunk), and Davis wasn’t drunk enough. At least, that’s what he told himself in that Vegas hotel room with the bright lights and Ken’s breath in his ear.
Now he didn’t have an excuse like Ken’s feelings to stop him from leaning forward.
Hell, even if he racked his useless bastard brain for an excuse not to do this, he couldn’t come up with one. Or, better yet, he couldn’t come up with one that suited him.
No matter how much he tried to tell himself he wasn’t gay. He loved Ken like a friend. Like a pack mate. Not like a brother, because that was disturbing on too many levels, but he wasn’t in love with Ken.
Not like that.
Only, his pounding heart and the saliva building on his tongue told him if this wasn’t love it might as well be lust.
At least Davis could deal with lust.
Sort of.
Lust for a man?
Dammit!
“Davis,” Ken said, his voice clearer now. “What are you—”
As if Ken didn’t know! Like he had no fucking clue, with Davis giving Ken’s cock the thrice over like it was the best thing he’d seen since a cheeseburger.
“I’m so sorry,” Davis breathed and leaned in.
Yeah. It wasn’t gay, per-se, just the best kind of apology he could give.
Right?
He never thought his face would be that close to Ken’s dick. Or that Ken’s black pubes, neatly trimmed, would tickle his chin as his lips brushed past them.
Over them.
Fingers locked onto his shoulders, and that touch – that goddamn recognition – shoved him into the deep end.
Hello, brave new world of whatever the fuck this is, looks like I’m jumping in!
Because with his mouth so close to the hardened flesh and the bluish veins beating under the surface, he couldn’t pull back now.
This is what Ken wanted.
What Ken needed.
And Ken had to forgive him if he did this.
No way in hell Ken wouldn’t.
It’s not that Davis wanted to run his tongue from the base to the tip, twirling and tasting the salty flesh as Ken’s grip tightened and his breath hitched.
No woman ever made a sound like that for Davis.
No woman whimpered the way Ken did as Davis’s hands curled around the base of Ken’s cock. Davis knew how this worked – he’d gotten head often enough – but he didn’t think about any of the nameless ladies who sucked him off.
He thought of Ken as he slipped down Davis’s chest.
Ken’s lips ghosting over his stom
ach, kissing his way down the happy trail to the damn prize at the end. The way his mouth, so fucking pliable and soft – stretched to engulf Davis’s cock.
Sucked him in.
That’s what Davis did. When his mouth reached the dripping tip, he swept his tongue over the slit. Pressed until Ken shuddered and groaned, then he opened wide and pulled it in.
It involved more multitasking than he was used to, hands and lips and tongue, all working together to pull and lick and suck at once. But the same sickening need that bunched in his groin when Ken did this for him, coiled there now. Hell, he felt it in Ken’s balls too.
And he wanted to yank the pleasure free.
Taste it.
Lap it off Ken’s thighs and do it all over again.
Because it was nothing like he thought it’d be.
Oh no.
This was so much worse. He didn’t want to stop, which – well, he didn’t want to think about the consequences of that.
Instead he focused on the way Ken’s hips snapped forward. How he tasted like bitter wine and the hint of something sweet.
How if Davis opened his throat he could feel the tip of Ken’s cock slip down it, and he liked how that felt. He wanted to squeeze the pleasure out of Ken just like that and keep doing it until he came as a matter of course.
Then Davis hummed, and Ken’s entire body shuddered.
Sharp fingers snagged in his hair. Davis flinched as they touched the tender spot on the back of his head.
Ken stiffened, moaned and his load leaked out. Down Davis’s throat, which caused an involuntary cough.
Shit!
He wasn’t ready for that.
Davis pulled back since coughing with a dick in his mouth was risky business, and swiped his hand over his lips. Slowly, he looked up at Ken, who blinked at him with those slanted bluish gray eyes.
Davis needed to say something. Or Ken did.
But Davis couldn’t do anything except stare at Ken like a complete asshole idiot.
Ken blinked again, shook his head slowly and slipped out of the room without a word. A moment later, the door to his bedroom clicked shut with the finality of a falling axe.
Shit!
Even when Davis thought he was doing something right, he fucked up.
5
Ken wasn’t sure how he slept that night, but at some point pure exhaustion yanked him down and washed away every single thing that happened during the day that he wished he could change. All of those changes started with Davis.
The casino.
Those Triad shifters.
Jin Yue.
Russian bears running drugs.
And just when Ken thought things couldn’t get any worse, Davis had to go and do that.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to move when they got back from the casino with Jin’s ultimatum hanging over their heads. But once he stepped into his home – the place Ken always thought was safe and comfortable – it no longer felt like that.
The Triad knew who he was. They knew Davis. Tyler. One word and they’d all be dead. And he’d tried to negotiate with their leader.
Lied to a damn dragon about Davis being his mate (which, really wasn’t that much of a lie since it felt like the truth in his heart), but his head knew better.
All the courage he’d mustered to do that ebbed away. The rain soaked suit covering his body felt like the only real thing in that moment, so he didn’t move. It anchored him to the present. Without it, fuck! Ken didn’t know!
Davis hadn’t said a word the whole drive home.
Ken felt his stillness. Heard every intake of breath – each beat of Davis’s goddamn heart sounded like a drum pounding in his ears.
No apology or explanation.
That silence stretched between them.
And when Davis finally did apologize. Shit!
What the hell was he thinking?
Doing?
Davis fell to his knees and sucked Ken off. A favor returned ten years too late.
Ken’s gut clenched. His heart tore into little pieces, which fluttered away on the wind and soaked into the pavement, just like they were made of paper.
The only way to deal with it was to face it head-on.
That was Davis’s way of saying he was sorry.
Extreme?
Yeah, but he was desperate.
It didn’t mean anything.
It couldn’t.
No matter how gay a blowjob between two men seemed, that didn’t mean Davis wanted to do it again.
Ken’s head hurt the next morning. His eyes stung, like he’d been up half the night crying, which he hadn’t been, but it felt like it.
His alarm hadn’t sounded, but that didn’t matter since it was Saturday. The only plan he had was a local Farmer’s Market – the Christmas version. Stereotypical? Maybe, but he didn’t care. However, instead of climbing out of bed and throwing back the curtains, he stayed still, wrapped in his cocoon, and listened for signs of life outside the door.
None but for the faint sound of Davis’s breath. That meant he was still asleep.
Good. If Ken could sneak out before Davis woke up, he could put off dealing with whatever happened next a while longer.
He’d put it off forever, if possible.
At least his bed smelled like detergent and his own deodorant. If it smelled anything like Davis he wasn’t certain what he’d do. Never wash it again? No. That was disgusting.
Ken sighed and slowly stood.
He dressed as quietly as possible (jeans and a cream cable knit sweater), wrote a quick note, and left before Davis even opened his soulful brown eyes.
Damn. He needed to stop thinking about Davis’s eyes like that. Or at all. It was part of a much larger problem – being in love with someone who would never love him back.
Someone who now had to do a majorly dangerous favor for the shifter gangs.
Someone who sucked him off the night before.
Ken shoved every single thought of Davis away. It’s the only chance he had of staying sane. Then he stepped outside and walked to the Farmer’s Market.
On the way there, he considered calling Tyler and telling him what happened, but he decided not to. It might stress him out and cause a relapse. Best if the two of them dealt with it together. Sure, Ken didn’t have to do anything but make sure Davis didn’t leave town, but he wasn’t about to let his friend wander into a bear’s den alone. Although he should, because an omega against a bear was no contest. Especially when Ken was the omega in question.
But it was Davis, and no matter how foolish, Ken needed to keep the alpha safe.
Whole.
Alive.
Even on a cold foggy day like that Saturday, Ken usually enjoyed walking from stall to stall with a cup of hot coffee and a canvas bag for all the things he might buy. But not that day. After being introduced to the Triad, his hackles stood on edge.
The smiles that usually seemed friendly now looked suspicious.
Although a light sprinkle of rain fell, locals milled about the walkways. Ken never paid mind to the people who bumped into him before, but every nudge and brush now seemed like a personal affront. What if they had a gun?
But this was the Farmer’s Market not the Dragon’s casino.
Even with that thought bright in his mind, when he caught the hint of another member of the shadow folk Ken glanced around wildly until he determined they weren’t a threat. As far as he could tell.
Dammit!
See what Davis did?
He ruined not only Ken’s perfectly good Friday night, but also his Saturday morning – and he’d been in town less than seventy-two hours!
In fact, Ken barely even noticed that he stood at the stall of gourmet buffalo cruelty-free steaks for five minutes staring at their wares while thinking about how silly it was for meat to be cruelty-free.
Being killed was cruel, no matter how painless the actual death part.
That idea led him in a dangerous direction.
If Davis didn’t give Jin the money he owed, how would the Dragon kill them?
Painfully.
Cruelly.
He was a mobster. He’d probably cut off all their fingers and toes first, just because he could.
Ken squeezed the frozen steak he held, and the woman at the booth asked if he was going to buy it, sir? With a raised eyebrow. He blushed and nodded, since his fingertips left little prints in the meat, and shelled out money for four.
At least he wouldn’t have to worry about dinner now.
His stomach grumbled, and he realized he hadn’t even taken the time to eat breakfast. No wonder the coffee sloshed in his stomach. If he was this hungry, what would Davis feel like?
Ugh! Davis.
Again.
Ken needed to stop this, but it was an addiction. All kinds of unhealthy. And yet. . . .
“Ken? Hey!” someone called and Ken whipped around.
He came face to face with Sam from marketing, bundled in a dark blue sweater with a red umbrella over his head. Sam smiled blandly, and his face melted with the fog and the rain and the surrounding crowd.
Or perhaps it was a trick of Ken’s vision.
“Sam. What are you doing here?” Ken asked carefully and forced himself to smile. Look at ease. It was harder to do than he realized. How the hell did Davis accomplish it all the time?
Sam shrugged and his smile faltered. “You told me about this place the last time we went out for drinks. I thought I’d stop by and pick up a few presents for Christmas. Like you said, the Farmer’s Market has a bit of everything.”
Ken nodded. He vaguely remembered mentioning the Farmer’s Market when Sam asked what he did for fun. Then he thought how Davis would never think something like this was fun in a thousand years, but Davis’s opinion of fun was far too dangerous for Ken’s taste to begin with.
Yet here he was, thinking about Davis again.
And Sam stared at him as if he were waiting for something, only Ken had no clue what it was. Encouragement? He was in no mood to give any.
“You know, I meant to ask you out yesterday but I never saw you. What do you say?” Sam asked.
Ken’s chest tightened, and he nodded absently. A woman with a baby stroller ran over his toes and apologized. He stared at the little streak of wet brown mud over the top of his black loafer and frowned. “Uh, out?”