by Zoe Perdita
Sam laughed and stepped closer. His umbrella bumped Ken’s. “Yeah. On a date. Me and you. Dinner instead of just drinks. What do you say?”
Ken bit the inside of his mouth so hard he tasted the sharp tang of copper. He wanted to say no. With everything else going on – Davis and the mob and Russian drugs – but his brain told him most of that wasn’t his problem.
“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Ken said just as his phone sounded.
A new text.
He yanked it from his pocket and stared at the message.
911. Come home, pls.
Davis couldn’t even manage to spell ‘please’ completely? But if it was a real emergency perhaps he didn’t have time. Maybe Jin went back on his word. Or the Russians found out his plans. Was that possible? Ken didn’t know!
“Problem?” Sam asked and leaned in like he was trying to read it.
Ken shoved it back into his pocket. “My mat—friend needs me. He’s in from out of town. It’s a long story. I’ll see you at work or you can call me and we’ll set it up. Whichever.”
Then Ken turned and rushed away. The Farmer’s Market was too crowded for him to jog through. Too many people and too many puddles.
He put away his umbrella, and the steady sprinkle of rain spattered his cheeks and misted his hair. Once he got out of the crowd, he turned down a side street and jogged with the canvas bag pressed to his chest.
The condo’s door was closed and everything looked normal as he rushed up the steps. Fiddled with his keys.
The door swung open as Ken slid it into the lock.
Davis stood there in only his underwear and an easy grin on his lips. “Welcome back. I heard you coming up the stairs. Where the hell would you go that early on a Saturday morning in weather like this?”
Ken took a deep breath. “911. You said 911. What’s the emergency?”
“The pancakes were gonna get cold if you didn’t come back. Oh, and the bacon might burn. Shit. Come in and get into something comfortable,” Davis said and managed to be all hands. He grabbed the umbrella and shook it. Took the bag with the steaks. Shut the door. Clicked the lock into place.
Ken stared at him. His heart pounded, and his cheeks burned. “You called me back for breakfast?”
Davis nodded and walked back to the stove. “Why not? I figured you hadn’t eaten, or I’d have woken up. Plus, you weren’t gone long enough. Am I right?”
Ken almost avoided staring at him in those form fitting jockeys, but Davis had to practically swing his damn hips with each step.
“Because pancakes and bacon aren’t an emergency!” Ken growled and felt the vein above his eye twitch.
“If they’re inedible it might be,” Davis said with a cavalier grin that didn’t suit Ken’s mood. Or the mood Davis should have after what happened.
Not that Ken wanted to think about that.
Just looking at Davis in the almost nude was hard enough. How had he gained so much lean muscle in his chest and thighs? Not to mention that ass – which is the only way Ken could describe it.
That. Ass.
Plump and begging for a squeeze.
Only Ken was pissed. Yes. Very pissed.
And a nearly naked best friend wasn’t going to fix that.
“I was just at the Farmer’s Market. It’s a thing I do on Saturday morning, and I didn’t want to wake you after – well, I didn’t want to wake you. So I left. No more texts with 911 in them unless it’s a real life emergency, got it? I ran all the way back here, like an idiot. And Sam probably thinks—”
If Davis were in his wolf form, his ears would’ve perked. “Who’s Sam?”
Ken’s cheeks heated further, if that were possible, and he stomped into the kitchen. “The guy from my work I told you about. We, uh, have a date this week.”
The grin slipped from Davis’s lips. “Oh. Right. The guy you’re dating that you might bring home. So, do you want me to go out that night or what? I could case the Russian games since I can’t be here.”
How the hell could Davis make Ken feel guilty about something that was all Davis’s fault? Because that’s how this shit worked, unfair as all hell.
“No,” Ken said and turned off the heat on the bacon before it actually did burn. His stomach grumbled angrily. He really was hungry, but he wasn’t going to say that to Davis. “That’s too dangerous.”
Davis looked at him. “I know, but I have to do this.”
Ken’s fingers trembled as he picked up a plate and piled the food on it without thought. The pancakes were only lukewarm. Maybe he should’ve run faster. He usually put his bacon on a second plate because bacon and syrup wasn’t his thing. Then Davis handed him a smaller plate, and Ken’s face might’ve caught fire.
How did he remember stuff like that?
“No syrup on your bacon, right?” Davis said with a wink that was far too saccharin.
Ken got a cavity just looking at it.
He nodded and finished dishing up his food. He wished he could’ve eaten without tasting it, but that wasn’t the case. It felt more like every bite brought his taste buds to life, and he bit back the urge to say something about it. Ask where Davis learned to make pancakes that tasted like fluffy bits of magic. Or bacon that perfectly crispy. And how Davis managed to shove a whole strip into his mouth and chew without looking like a total slob.
Thankfully, Davis didn’t say much as they ate. He looked more thoughtful than usual. When they each finished their first plate, Davis split the remainder of the food between them equally and smiled.
Ken’s stomach jumped, and he nodded his thanks.
Then, just as Ken dreaded, as Davis wiped his mouth he caught Ken’s eye and held it.
“We need to talk about this,” he said more solemnly than he’d ever said anything in his life. His fork had a piece of pancake on it that dripped syrup over the edge of the plate and onto the table.
Ken wanted to grab a wet cloth and wipe it off before it dried, but he didn’t dare move. “We really don’t. It just—I know where you stand and where I stand. No big deal.”
Davis blinked, and he rubbed his rough cheeks with his right hand. He put the rest of his pancake in his mouth with the left. He still hadn’t shaved, and the stubble was getting thicker by the day. At this point, Ken might have to hold him down and do it himself.
Not the best idea, considering.
Ken grabbed the empty plates and stacked them into a neat pile. If he didn’t do something with his hands, they’d start moving on their own and who knew what might happen then?
Davis watched him. “But last night you were—”
Ken cut Davis off. Anything Davis said might shatter what little of his heart remained, and he couldn’t stand that. Not now. “Last night, I went out of my way to save you, and now we’re chin deep in trouble with a dangerous Dragon gang leader! Why are you laughing?”
Well, laughing was probably the wrong word, but Davis’s teeth peeked out of his lips and his shoulders shook with a chuckle. “Chin deep. I thought you’d go for balls deep.”
Balls were the last thing Ken needed to think about. He glared. “This isn’t funny, Davis. You know it’s not funny. Jin will kill you, me and Tyler if you don’t pay him back and get drug information for him. It’s all kinds of fucked up and. . . . and. . . . why are you standing?”
Davis not only stood, but he stepped closer to Ken, and when Davis did it his stomach muscles tensed and his round eyes softened. The little line between his brow furrowed. “I’m sorry. This is my fault, and I’m gonna take care of it. I’m gonna make this right.”
His hands slipped over Ken’s shoulders, and Ken pinched his eyes shut. “Don’t. Don’t make me believe in you because if I do—”
Then Davis’s hands slipped down Ken’s back, over his sweater and yanked him flush against Davis’s perfectly bare flesh. His words muffled into Davis’s chest. That scent surrounded him, safe and wonderful and all the things Davis wasn’t.
But Ken never said he was
smart when it came to Davis.
The farthest thing from it, actually.
“If you do, then what?” Davis’s chest rumbled with the question.
Ken drank it in. Breathed it. Told his useless body to back the hell up and stop this conversation before it got out of hand. Before Davis mentioned the bathroom and broke him into pieces all over again.
It was better to just pretend. While pretending hurt, it didn’t shatter and tear and leave him with nothing.
Ken swallowed. There was too much saliva in his mouth. He licked his lips with it, and his tongue brushed Davis’s sternum. Yeah, he shouldn’t have done that.
Davis took a sharp breath, but he didn’t move away. Step back. Admit that last night was as big a mistake as Vegas.
Only in Vegas, Ken and Davis were drunk when Ken went all: “I love you and want to show you how much you mean to me.” Last night they were sober. No one uttered a damn thing about love, although the lust that clouded Ken’s senses then filled them once more.
How could they not with Davis standing right there?
He squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re not gay, Davis. I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but the last thing I remember is that you’re straight.”
When he opened his eyes, Davis stared at him. His bottom lip was just slightly bigger than the top, and neither were what anyone would call full.
“Yeah. I know. But I got hard last night. With you,” Davis said. “And I got just as hard in Vegas.”
Ken snorted. He didn’t know what that meant. “So you’re a straight guy who gets hard with me? Next you’re going to tell me it’s because I’m pretty like a girl.”
“Not anymore, but in high school, maybe,” Davis said with a quirk of his lips.
Ken needed to take a step back. End this before it became even more fucked up that it was already. He glanced at the table. The last half slice of bacon cold and congealing on Davis’s plate. That spot of syrup drying on the table.
Davis’s warmth held him. Those hands rested on the small of his back, fingers buried in the thick knit of his sweater. They wouldn’t let him go. Not that he’d tried to escape, but this might be the only chance he ever got to know what this was like.
And it’d been so long since the last time.
Far too long since his stomach fluttered with need while his chest felt like a balloon ready to burst. That’s what Davis did – filled him up and – pop!
“Let me go, Davis. Please. I’m going to help you get out of this. I’ll go with you to see those Russians and find the drugs. Shit! I can’t believe I’m saying this, but—”
“We never kissed,” Davis said.
Ken’s head snapped up, and he stared at Davis, who pulled Ken closer so their hips were pressed together.
Ken frowned and wiggled out of his grip. He took three steps away. The last thing he needed at that moment was the sensation of Davis’s thinly concealed dick pushed against his hip.
“What?”
To make everything worse, Davis frowned. “You never kissed me on the lips. In Vegas you started with my neck and worked your way down. Not the mouth. Why?”
Ken was certain if he opened his eyes any wider they’d pop out of his head. His heart – the pieces that were left – throbbed. “You said you hardly remembered that night! You said you were so drunk you just. . . how much do you really remember?”
Vegas was a mistake. They both agreed. How could he be so stupid? But it was a combination of booze and seeing Davis again, and all of Davis’s almost flirting that threw him over the edge. Those smiles and the easy fucking charm that pushed every button in just the right order.
Then came Ken’s drunken confession. And Davis stared at him with bleary eyes and moaned as Ken kissed his neck. Chest. Each button was a chore, so Ken stopped messing with them. He moved to Davis’s pants. The zipper gave him little resistance. Davis gave him none.
No. He groaned when Ken slipped his lips over Davis’s half-hard cock. His hips bumped up to meet it. What healthy man could say no to a blowjob? Even if Ken’s hair was shorter than it’d been in high school, it still hung down his neck and brushed his ears.
Maybe Davis forgot it was his best friend – his gay omega – sucking him off.
The next morning Davis grinned and laughed and said he was hung over. He didn’t say a damn thing about Ken being in love with him. Why would he?
Davis was straight.
Only now Davis stood in Ken’s apartment in his underwear and asked why they’d never kissed.
Mind fuck moment? Hell, yes.
Davis did that thing with his eyes that made them look bigger and softer than they had any right to. “I never said I didn’t remember, but I didn’t know what to say. I—I’m sorry about that. Don’t get pissed about something that happened ten years ago. You’re avoiding the question.”
Ken’s mouth fell open, and he pursed it closed. Davis wasn’t wrong. Rare occurrence, but it happened. “For one, we never kissed because you’re not gay. For another, why the hell are you asking me this? You’re over thirty! Not in middle school.”
He moved to the kitchen table because he had to do something. Pick up the plates. Carry them to the sink. Set them down without breaking them all. His hands shook as he ran warm water over them.
Davis moved behind him like a damned shadow. “Did you think about me in middle school?”
Ken spun around and punched Davis in the stomach. Harder than he’d ever punched anyone, but that didn’t mean much. Davis’s chest was pure muscle.
He let out a grunt and wrapped his fingers around Ken’s fist. “Ouch. And? Did you?”
Ken practically heard that stupid dab of syrup drying now, but Davis wasn’t going to let this go. Not if it was something he wanted. That’s probably why he couldn’t stop gambling. Addictive personality and all that.
They’d known each other forever, it seemed, but Ken knew that wasn’t really the case. They met in elementary school when Ken’s parents moved into the suburban neighborhood that housed the Harrison family. The two families of wolf shifters were friendly and decided to join forces as a pack for protection from other shifters and hunters, just in case.
Davis and Ken became friends as a matter of course.
An alpha and an omega were an unlikely pair, but Davis never cared what kind of rank Ken had. Only that they had fun together, for the most part. Then puberty hit and bam!
Davis went from the friend who always had Ken’s back to the boy Ken wished would take him to the next dance.
A boy. Taking him to a dance. Even in a city like Haven, that wasn’t going to go over well with the kids at their school. Not twenty years ago.
Looking back on it, the fear that choked Ken when he realized he was gay didn’t seem as overwhelming. His parents were fine with it. Davis – Davis accepted him fully. Hugged him. Smiled.
But Ken always wanted something more.
How did he tell the truth when he’d lied about it for so long? “I wanted to kiss a lot of boys back in middle school. In high school, I did kiss a few. Not that you knew about it, because I never told you.”
“I asked if you wanted to kiss me,” Davis said and moved Ken’s hand. He pressed it against the edge of the counter. His jaw tightened.
“Yes. Yes! Of course I wanted to kiss you back then. Now, tell me why you keep a picture of us together at prom,” Ken said. Mostly to say something. To do something besides trying to move, because that would just remind him that Davis surrounded him. That his cock was pressed right against Davis’s powerful thigh and that might wake the damn thing up.
Davis blinked. “You looked through my bag?” He didn’t sound angry. More surprised. Amused.
Fuck. That shouldn’t amuse him. But this was Davis.
Ken’s cheeks heated. “I wasn’t trying to snoop, but I checked to see if you left anything important to make sure you didn’t skip town,” Ken said. Admitting it felt like scraping razors over his tongue. It’s exactly how trust
ing Davis felt.
The flash of laughter died in Davis’s eyes. He nodded. “Yeah. Makes sense. But I wouldn’t leave without a word. Not this time.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Ken said and held as still as he could. Every time Davis talked his body rumbled. Vibrated against Ken. “Why that picture?”
“Because I always missed you the most, and that picture reminded me of the good times we had. Before things got out of hand. Don’t tell Ty. He hates me enough as it is.”
How could he just admit that without an ounce of hesitation?
Ken took a sharp breath and nodded. He didn’t know what to say. How to respond to one of the most romantic things someone had ever said to him – and it was Davis who said it.
“So?” Davis said. His grip on Ken’s fists relented and moved to Ken’s wrists. “Anything else you want to know? While we’re confessing things, do you want to know about the time I found your porn?”
Ken’s cheeks flushed, and he shook his head. “This is a bad idea, Davis. You—”
The pink tip of Davis’s tongue darted over his not so full lips. “I what? I’m not gay enough for you?”
“Not really,” Ken said and bit back the desire to laugh. What else could he do? “But that never stopped me before.”
“It really didn’t,” Davis said and his lips turned up, just enough, that Ken’s stomach twisted into a knot. “I want to know what it’s like.”
“What?” Ken breathed. His heart hammered, and Davis’s pounded with it like a pair of warring drums beats.
“What kissing you is like.”
Ken was sure his ass fell asleep from the sharp edge of the counter pressing into it. And the wall of Davis’s chest was as immovable as a mountain. His breath hitched in his throat, and against every ounce of better judgment, he looked into those brown eyes.
Nodded.
His heart called the shots now. His cock came in as a close second.
Davis didn’t do what Ken thought. He didn’t smirk and use too much tongue. He carefully brushed a damp strand of black hair from Ken’s forehead and leaned down right as Ken leaned up. For all the times he’d kissed some other guy, he never felt as close to unraveling as he did then. This wasn’t just anybody.