Omega Wanted: Bad Boy Mpreg Romance

by Stephan James

  For a moment, there was nothing but silence. His heart pounded in his throat, his pulse throbbing rapid at his neck. Would he be believed? Or was the dispatcher homophobic?

  And then, blessedly, he heard, “Okay, I have alerted the police. Please stay on the line. What’s your name, hon?”

  He didn’t answer, because he had already hung up. He couldn’t talk and run at the same time. He just had to hope against hope that the police would manage to be competent at their jobs for once.

  Chapter Eleven

  The diving place turned out to be called Shark Bait Reef, because of course it was. And miracle of miracles, Johnathan didn’t have to walk or even ride the bus all the way there. A police officer coming back from responding to an emergency call nearby spotted him sprinting down the highway and figured he would stop to help. A few blurted sentences, and then he was riding shotgun in a police car that was going at 90 mph with its sirens wailing and lights flashing.

  “Thank you,” he kept saying. That was all he could think. “Thank you, thank you! Thank you so much!”

  “Anytime, kid,” the officer said, each and every time. His face was grim, set in stone with determination and concentration. They were getting there as fast as possible, but he had no idea if it was going to be fast enough.

  In the distance, the horizon of a town loomed beneath the wide afternoon sky. It was a beautiful day, perfect for a trip to the beach.

  Unfortunately, many people could not get to the beach because it was currently blockaded with police cars, honking fire engines, and bright orange barricades. Everything was stained red and blue, and everyone was shouting.

  Before they could even find somewhere to park, Johnathan wrenched open the passenger side door and threw it wide open. “Kid, geez!” his ride yelped, but he hardly cared because he was scrambling across the pavement and sand to reach the nearest fence. The ground fell away into a steep incline down to a beach pocked with rat burrows. Ocean waves lapped up against the shore, churning dangerously, and farther out could be seen a single fin as it rose up to slice through the water before submerging again.

  And there on the sand, gasping and dripping blood in a trail behind him as he stumbled away from the waves, was Devan.

  “Devan!” Johnathan shrieked.

  The professor looked up, weary and clutching his bloody hand. Their eyes met even from that distance, a single moment torn into time. Then, Devan smiled.

  Behind him, the three awful men were surrounded by far more police officers. Two lay on the ground, faces in the sand, while the third was on his knees and currently being handcuffed.

  Johnathan looked around, bouncing impatiently on his heels. Everything was happening too slowly! No one was paying any attention to Devan, or him, for that matter.

  I need to go make sure he’s okay.

  Nodding to himself, he vaulted over the low fence and immediately went into a careening roll the entire way down. The sun and the sand swapped places, and there was so much dirt and inexplicable slime in his mouth that he’d be tasting grittiness for months.

  But, then he was pushing himself up with his hands, sprinting the last few feet, and throwing his arms around Devan’s neck. “Devan! You’re okay! You’re alive!”

  Devan smiled, a puzzled little look in his eyes. “Of course I’m fine,” he said, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out.

  Chapter Twelve

  “I still can’t believe you passed out on me like a little girl,” Johnathan teased, glancing across the short stretch of beach between him and his boyfriend.

  Devan gave a huffing, pouty little laugh. “They hit me on the head, John!”

  “The least you could have done was let me kiss you first. It would have been so romantic. Like something in a movie.”

  Devan tilted his head and scowled, and then gestured out at the calm blue waters before them, stained pink and yellow and purple with the colors of tropical sunset. The island in the Caribbean where they were vacationing had an unpronounceable name and a location unknown to the general public. Everything was perfect, reasonably personable, and one thousand percent just right.

  “This isn’t romantic enough for you? I spend half of the first advance payment from my paper on taking you somewhere nice and it’s not romantic?”

  “You mean the paper I helped with, right?” Johnathan teased, taking a sip of the overly-sweet drink in his hand. “I did like half, so this was my half of the money.”

  “That’s not quite how it works,” Devan teased, and then leaned over to kiss him very sweetly, very lovingly. “Although maybe this will make it better?”

  Johnathan watched, curious but content, bubbly with alcohol and happiness, as Devan reached down beneath his chair and pulled a tiny box, which he then tossed over. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” Johnathan replied absently, opening up the box. And then he gasped. There inside the unsuspecting, boring box was a silver ring rimmed with tiny opals. They taught the sunset and reflected the fruity rays back in all their brilliance. “Oh, my god.”

  “Well?” Devan called over.

  Johnathan threw the ring box back at him. “Try again,” he called, laughing and crying all at once.

  Honestly, he could have cared less about the perfect ending. This was perfect, with Devan’s paper published to critical acclaim and powerful reception. And Johnathan had passed through his exams with just enough room to spare so that his extra credit meant he could graduate; maybe he wasn’t graduating with honors, but he never expected to.

  He had no idea what was going to happen to them now, but he was looking forward to finding out.

  Straight Talk

  Description:

  Damien is an ex-criminal who is forced to change his identity after a few wrong moves with the mob. To complete his new identity, he moves to a new city and finds a fake boyfriend.

  He meets Scott an insanely hot, real gay guy who reluctantly agrees to help. What starts off as a relationship of convenience between a tough guy and a pretty boy transforms into something more.

  Will Damien be able to accept his feelings for Scott? And how long can Damien hid before his past threats to destroy the new life he’s created.

  ********************************

  “The first thing you have to know is that I’m not gay.” The man sitting in front of me leaned forward and gave a skeptical look. His blond hair was slicked back, which set off his sparkling blue eyes. They were filled with skepticism. “I just need a boyfriend to throw some people off of my case.”

  If Scott knew the truth he would not still be sitting in front of me. He would have run away screaming. There were still times when I wanted to run away myself and pretend that this was not my life. Alas, the only good that would do would be to get my ass thrown in jail. That was not something that was appealing to me no matter if I said I was gay or not. In jail, there wasn’t much of a choice.

  Scott shifted in his seat and his face hardened. “So you’re telling me that you wasted my time? You asked me on a date, remember? In fact, you said that your goal was a long term relationship. You lied.”

  “I did, and those things are true. Just with a different twist.” He raised an eyebrow at me. His arms were folded across his chest defensively, like he was either hurting or expected to be hurt. I continued, “You’ll be my pretend boyfriend. We’ll hang out and act lovey-dovey in public, but we can fuck other people. It’s win-win.”

  “How exactly am I winning in this case? I made it clear that I want to find a husband out of this, not a straight guy who wants to trick girls into sleeping with him.” Maybe I had lost my charisma, or maybe he wasn’t as attracted to me as I had thought he was. Those deep blue eyes went hard and shallow. He thought I really was screwing with him even though I already said exactly the truth. He stood up to leave. “I’m out of here.”

  “Scott, please don’t go.” I really hated to beg but I had already run out of time ages ago. Even if I didn’t li
ke it, Scott was my last chance. “I really need your help. It’s not that I want pussy. I could get it if I want it. People want to kill me.”

  “Like who, Damien? An ex-wife?” He scowled and kept standing, obviously not convinced. I didn’t blame him. Not really. Maybe I had to tell him more.

  “The mob. I got tired of living a criminal life and turned state witness. Now they have their henchmen after me, so the FBI put me in witness protection.” His eyes studied me, and mine him. Clearly he was trying to decide if I was joking or not. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

  “Why would I help you? You want me to put my life in danger and all I get is to sleep with whoever I want. Here’s a newsflash, I already get to sleep with whoever I want to.”

  “I get it. Sorry to have wasted your time.” Another no. And I didn’t have any other prospects lined up after this. Damn. I thought gay guys were dying to show off that they can convert straight guys. Guess not. Or maybe Scott was just uptight about that. Whatever it was, I needed to change up my approach or something. Apparently the truth wouldn’t get me anywhere like I thought. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  A lady walked by. Her tits led the way, hardened nipples first. They bounced with the sway of her hips, 100% natural. Another day or another time I would have tried to pick her up and titty fuck her. Those gifts of hers shouldn’t go to waste. But, my mission to find a fake boyfriend was too important for me to waste a half hour on fun with someone I wasn’t supposed to be attracted to. That would come later, no pun intended.

  Scott watched me, and then looked at the object of my attentions. His expression gave this funny little twist that looked like concentration. It would’ve been endearing if he was a woman. Sighing, he walked back to me. I tried not to get my hopes up, but there they were.

  He said, “Tell me the truth. Why do you need a fake boyfriend? If you lie to me even once, I will walk away from you.”

  I looked right at him and told him everything I could. Maybe even if he didn’t want to prove he had what it took to convert a straight guy, he would be convinced by my sob story. It seemed weird to me that he wouldn’t want bragging rights with his friends, though. Was he that hard up on a real relationship?

  “It’s a long story,” I started. “As part of my new identity, the Feds want me to be gay and have a boyfriend. They say that the mob would never look for a gay guy, since I slept with so many women. Including the Don’s daughter.” Maybe that would be enough?

  Only silence followed.

  Apparently not, then. From the expression on his face, I knew that I would have to give him more than that. The problem was that I had no idea how much I should tell him. Just because I fucked up didn’t mean I wanted to go dragging anyone else down with me. “I did a few things that got the attention of the wrong people. You know, like fucking the Don’s daughter and then not calling her.” Well, fucking a lot of daughters and not calling any of them. “And I stole a few hundred thousand dollars.”

  “And now they want to kill you. Well, that and the fact that you told all of their secrets to Uncle Sam.” Scott sat down and tented his fingers, staring down at them very intently. That same endearing look of concentration crossed his face. I took a moment to really look at him. Soft skin, full lips, a thin heart-shaped face. He almost looked like a girl, was soft like one. If I squinted, I could almost convince myself that he was one.

  That was a silly, amusing thought. Squinting for the rest of my life to make this bearable.

  Finally, he leaned forward and lowered his voice to a whisper, “I’ll help you. I’ll be your fake boyfriend but you have to sell this. We will be forced to kiss in public. Can you handle that?”

  Shit! I was prepared to hold hands and wrap my arms around another man, but kiss? That thought had never even occurred to me. To be fair though, I never kissed a woman in public. Never needed to, just a few suggestive comments and we were off to the races. Still though, Scott was right. We would have to sell this. Anyone could see a man talking to a woman and assume they were a couple, but a man talking to a man was just business. If anyone ever saw me out with Scott, it needed to be obvious to them that we were gay.

  Fine, then. I would do it. And maybe it wouldn’t be that bad. Just squint and pretend they were lady lips. I held back my chuckle. Serious-faced Scott wouldn’t appreciate it “I’ve never done it, but there’s a first time for everything, isn’t there? I might be a bad kisser at first, until I get to know what you like.”

  I was not quite sure why it would matter what he liked. I felt a little bad for him, maybe. Guy was so hard-up to find a husband that he would settle for a fake one, why shouldn’t I at least make it good for him? And maybe there was a bit of pride in it, too. I never disappointed the people I fucked. Not that I would be fucking Scott, but I had to make it look like it. Either way, I was committed now.

  Scott also looked a little bit amused at what I said. I still wasn’t quite sure what I was doing but I was glad he took it seriously. “Okay. And if you sleep with a lady, you’ll have to be very discreet. Total darkness, no personal details, the works. In this town, people will talk about everything. The gossip is out of control and there are a few people who really want something good on me. If they find out my ‘boyfriend’ was with a woman, they’ll go nuts.” He gave me a smile and something in my chest gave a tug. It wasn’t hard to understand why this man would be popular with both males and females. A kind heart and killer smile made for an irresistible combination. Even for me. It wasn’t attraction but he was the kind of guy who would be a good friend to anyone. “You do that and I’ll make sure that I don’t do anything that puts our plan in jeopardy.”

  “Deal,” I agreed hastily. My heart was pounding in my chest. Relief swamped over me. This just might all work out.

  Scott wasn’t done with me, however. The man was thorough. “There is one thing that I need from you, Damien. I need you to assure me that I am not in danger by doing this. Maybe the dangerous life is for you, but I prefer a quiet life. That by definition means no bullets flying at me.” He paused. “I mean, I get your situation. I know there might be some disturbances or whatever. But I’m not going to get shot for you.”

  It was a fair request. I could have easily reassured him that the mob was so far off my trail that we would be able to live out the rest of our fake lives in peace. But, I couldn’t lie to this guy. In my past, I would have, but not now. It wasn’t fair to tell him that there was no danger in being associated with me when he was smart enough to know otherwise.

  Or maybe he was gullible enough to believe me. I considered it, and then realized how intensely he was watching me. No, those blue eyes didn’t miss much. I sighed, reluctant. “Listen Scott, I can’t promise you that there will never be any danger in doing this. The mob could find us and we might have to deal with that. But I have FBI protection and more than enough guns to make sure that you stay alive.” I did not say unharmed.

  “Thank you for your honesty.” He nodded his head. When he didn’t stand to leave or call me ugly names, I figured that he was still in. Another wave of relief crashed into me, which was nearly as exhausting as being stressed. “I wanted to see if you would lie to me. You didn’t, and that makes me think that we can make this work. Honesty is important in a relationship.”

  I didn’t answer. I was looking at the lady with the tits. She was sitting at the bar alone now, sweeping her gaze around to pick out her prize for the night. I looked back at Scott. He was stirring his vodka soda restlessly. “So you’re in?” I asked him.

  Scott squinted at me with a slight smirk that looked nearly as good as his charming smile. “We should get to know each other a bit more if we’re going to be fake boyfriends.”

  He was right. I knew nothing about this guy. He could work for the mob himself for all I knew. I knew he didn’t, though; nice guys like Scott don’t make it. He had some muscle, but not the kind of muscle you fight with. He was too thin and without much in the way
of body mass, almost dainty. There were no scars on his hands and his nose was perfect, two sure signs he never even had been in a fight. He was too soft, too pretty for that.

  He was the kind of guy who could be taken advantage of by a crook like me.

  “What do you want to know?”

  He smirked a little more, full of real amusement now. “So, tell me about your work?”

  I knew what that meant. “I got into the mob through night clubs. I was a bouncer. A damn good one.”

  Scott looked me up and down and gave a little nod of agreement. I probably looked like his stereotypical imagining of a guard, since I was twice his size. Not twice as tall, though. For a skinny little guy, Scott had some height on him. It made him look even scrawnier.

  I went on, “The owner was the Don’s son. The guy dealt some drugs and sold some guns to people with records who couldn’t buy them. He did mostly small-scale stuff. He needed a muscle and I had the time. Plus, he trusted me. So, one night he asked me to help him with some drop-offs. One thing led to another, I gained some more trust and that’s what I was doing.” And just like being a bouncer, I was damn good at it.

  Scott opened his mouth like he was going to say something. I nodded at him to talk. He closed his mouth again immediately, turning a rosy shade of pink. “You all right?”

  Scott blurted “I don’t really drink.” That was it? After learning all that, that was all he had to say? “Do you want my drink?”

  Before I could even say anything, he had the soda shoved into my hands. I put the straw on the table –didn’t have to swap spit with him yet- took a fast gulp right from the glass. I felt my throat get warm, burning heat all the way down. I took another gulp. This guy really was quiet. We were nothing alike. I talked shit to stay alive and he didn’t even drink.