by N. J. Lysk
In truth, having met Carry, it was hard for Thomas to disagree with their hopes Val would be an alpha. A woman like Kristina of Sweden, in control of her own fate. Not someone who distrusted the world so much he could hardly accept Thomas’s sincere offers of friendship.
It didn’t matter to him, of course, just like it hadn’t mattered that Colleen’s treatment would almost guarantee she wouldn’t present and most definitely couldn’t have biological children. He was no alpha, but they were his to protect.
THOMAS HATED HIS PARENTS’ obsession with protocol, to the extent where if it was up to them even betas would have followed it—women behaving like omegas and men behaving like alphas. For them, it was like the last two centuries of progress had not happened. The likelihood of women presenting alpha and men presenting omega was nothing but a minor inconvenience to the strict binary system that had guided humanity since the beginning of time.
But despite that, he liked the way protocol added a layer of excitement and subtlety to flirting. For betas, protocol was just a game, really. And he was pretty sure Uriel liked it too; he hadn’t missed the way the other man had inhaled like he’d been punched when he’d called him ‘my lord’. And opening doors was just good manners, even if it made Uri’s eyes flicker his way nervously.
“After you,” Thomas told him with a smile and followed him inside the restaurant he’d selected.
“Looks nice,” Uriel said as Thomas put a hand on the small of his back to guide him inside. The gesture also startled him, even though it wasn’t an undue intimacy from someone you’d slept with. Maybe Thomas was just confusing him by trying to take control when he’d been offering his submission a moment earlier.
It was not really such a nice place, but it had the best sushi in London and fish seemed pretty safe if Uri kept kosher, which Thomas had neglected to ask him about. He said as much now; the place was small enough it had paper menus and if they had to leave, then they’d better do it before the waiter got to their table.
Uri’s face brightened into a smile, even as he explained, “Actually, kosher doesn’t allow prawn.”
“Oh, dammit, so...”
But his concerns were waved away. “I don’t keep kosher, except for Pesach and that’s mostly because my mothers always sent me home with tons of food. Also, fighting oppression is kind of my thing.”
Thomas laughed, disbelieving and charmed, because there weren’t many people in 5888 who’d say that with a straight face. And mean it. “In that case, I should get a point because this place is owned by actual Japanese people, not someone appropriating their culture.”
He was quoting Colleen almost verbatim, which meant maybe Eira was right about him picking up his sister’s obsessive tendency to overanalyse. Of course, he was on a date with a guy who’d just claimed fighting oppression like a hobby, so who was he to say she was overdoing it?
“Mmm...” Uri considered. “You can get points because it’s owned by immigrants,” he conceded. “Cultural appropriation is a bit murky for me to rule on without proper context.”
“But you can surely rule on the definite lack of it, can’t you, your honour?” Thomas pushed, adding a subtle tease by wetting his lips to push his point home.
Uri definitely caught it because his nod was a little bit too slow. “I guess...” He stopped and turned towards the approaching waiter. Thomas was almost offended he’d had enough attention to spare to notice someone else, but he did want to order.
He didn’t come here often enough to be recognized, but he was still slightly surprised when Uri was asked for his order first. Not that it mattered, they were sharing platters anyway.
“So your mums are social justice warriors who can also cook like goddesses?” he asked when they were alone again.
Uri laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’d be an appropriate description for the biopic. In real life, Esti is a social worker and Ruth teaches philosophy at Goldsmith’s.”
“Philosophy?” he repeated. He wondered what that would lead to at home; had Uri always been allowed to ask why things were the way they were? To question why the rules were different for different people? “That explains a lot.”
“Guess it does.” Uri’s smile was almost shy again.
Thomas was seriously tempted to lean over and lick it off his mouth. He looked down at the menu the waiter had forgotten to take away instead. “My father owns a mining company.”
“Oh,” Uri said, which was about as much as Thomas could have thought to ask about the matter. Minerals weren’t sexy, they weren’t even interesting enough for Thomas to know about them. His father had made a good attempt to groom him to take over the company when he grew older, but it hadn’t taken. At the moment, it seemed like that would be more Eira’s gig—although she liked the science a lot more than any kind of administrative position, and what branch of science seemed to shift from week to week, too. “Can he cook?”
Thomas looked up to snort. “He can manage, which I only know because we... we used to watch sports together on Saturdays, when I was little. My dad would take my sisters out so we could have some father-son time.”
Father-sons time, of course, which maybe had made the whole thing a lot more awkward than it would have been if it had been just Thomas and his father. They did both love sports. Even if his father had never truly approved of it as a profession, it’d been his idea that Thomas try it out as a hobby in the first place. He’d been proud of his skill, back then.
“That sounds nice,” Uri said. He sounded almost gentle, like he could somehow tell...
“It was,” he offered in turn. “Just... didn’t last.”
Colleen had tried. But she’d never been quite able to follow multiple players on a screen—it took her some effort even to watch his games live—and their father had never liked any less popular sports like tennis. When it’d been time to choose a sport to participate in as part of their parents’ ideas of social development, she’d gone for martial arts, which their dad had loved. But then, of course...
Uri hesitated, then pointed his head to the side to indicate the arrival of their food. Thomas thanked the waiter and asked for some wasabi on the side, then started pointing out his favourite types of sushi.
His date let him chatter on, but when he looked back up, his expression was serious. “Thomas, you don’t have to talk about it.”
“I...” The words seemed stuck in his throat. He didn’t know if he didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t know if he could... do this, for real, and not share this part of his history. But it wasn’t his to share, was it? It hadn’t happened to him, he’d just been... a supporting character.
“But you can, any time,” Uri added, the offer as sincere as it was simple. Like the kindness cost him nothing, when Thomas knew kindness cost one dearly.
He gave a shaky nod, all the thanks he could manage.
Uri didn’t ask for more. “I don’t think I told you, but you’re totally Kyeran’s new hero. Maybe we should get you that cape...”
ONCE HE’D MANAGED TO start speaking normally again, the date had gone swimmingly well, but that didn’t mean he was making any assumptions about what would happen after dessert.
“I got some wine, if you have time to tell me if it’s any good,” he told Uri over coffee.
Uri paused in his stirring, glancing up at him with a carefully neutral expression. He’d clearly understood what Thomas meant.
“Or I could save it for another night,” Thomas added. He was dying to get his hands on the man again, but he wasn’t about to forget how careful Uri had been with him earlier. If he needed more time...
“White or red?”
“Both,” Thomas told him, not quite able to hold back his smile.
It didn’t really matter, Uri seemed just as helpless.
The wine could have been green for all the use they gave it. They’d taken a bus from the restaurant and Uri had jogged up the stairs with him, so he was still a little breathless by the time Thomas got h
is apartment door open.
It didn’t stop him from walking right in and stepping close enough to seal their mouths together. Thomas put his arms around him without a second thought and tongues got involved pretty quickly after that. The only sounds were that of their skin sliding together and the hitch of their breaths as they found a good angle or a sensitive spot.
He wanted to lick him everywhere, put his hands all over him, inside him.
But there was one particular activity he’d been thinking about the longest. He bit Uri’s lip hard enough for him to feel it and used his surprise to take the step back he needed to fall to his knees.
“Wh—?” His lover’s hands scrabbled to keep hold of him, and Thomas exhaled out a laugh when his shirt ended up around his armpits. Uri let go, hands in the air like he was being robbed.
Thomas glanced up to meet Uri’s wide eyes, then deliberately looked down at his crotch. When he checked again, Uri was still staring. “Let me?” Thomas asked him. Just asked, no licking his lips or sultry looks. He didn’t know what brought it on, but he could see the hesitancy.
Uri nodded and let his eyes fall closed. His hands were against the wall, just like he’d made Thomas keep his own when he’d done this that first night. That was more than fine with him. He lowered the zip and drank in the sight and the relieved sigh from above in equal measure before pressing his nose to the damp cotton and inhaling the musky scent of arousal. Uri’s cock jumped under his cheek, hot to the touch even through his boxers, and Thomas couldn’t resist rubbing his face against it.
He pulled back, but Uri couldn’t seem to resist following. Thomas almost let him, but he didn’t want anything in between them for this. He gave the bulge a soft, open-mouthed suck and took firm hold of his lover’s hipbones, forcing him back until his buttocks met the wall. The whine he got in answer was hard to decipher, but Uri’s hands clenching against the wall were answer enough; he pulled the cloth down, dress trousers and underwear both. Then he went for it, catching the head for his first taste, salty and sour and thick.
Uri’s breath caught audibly and his whole body went tense, and for a moment Thomas thought he might come. Somehow, he pulled back from the edge, panting harshly but not saying anything as Thomas opened his mouth and pressed a wet kiss to the base. It was lucky he was still holding him because even such a short touch got Uri’s hips bucking.
Thomas shushed his apologies. “I got you,” he promised and bent his right arm at the elbow so he could press his forearm against his lover’s thigh and take hold of the base of his cock with the same hand. Uri looked down at that, face flushed enough to be seen in the low light of the city coming through the window, and Thomas flexed his muscles in demonstration. “I got you,” he repeated.
Then he bent down and sucked the head of Uri’s cock back into his mouth, eyes closing as the flavour burst onto his tongue and slick flesh rubbed enticingly against his palate. He had to push Uri back at once, both arms straining against the strength of the other man’s body, but Uri’s movements were a reflex with little intent behind them, and Thomas had trained his body thoroughly for a long time. The only real difficulty lay in controlling his own reflex to hold onto Uri’s cock instead of stroking it, but after a few fumbled attempts, he managed to coordinate his mouth and his hand so he could breathe and Uri’s dick would always get the stimulation it needed.
“Thomas.” He knew the pitch of the word, what it pleaded for, what was needed. If he’d been as good at this as Uri, it’d have been long over, but there was something he’d been holding back that Uri’s now slumped body gave him the courage to try. He took his hand away from the base and put his fingers into his mouth to get them as wet as possible, as much with Uri’s precome as with his own spit. Before the other man could quite catch on, he put his mouth right back on Uri’s cock and slid his fingers between his spread legs, cupping his sack and pressing the tips against his hole.
Uriel jolted like he’d been electrocuted, thrusting hard enough Thomas had to dig his nails in to hold on and inhale sharply through his nose as his throat was blocked. The throbbing length of Uri’s erection seemed like too much to take for a moment, but the man instinctively pulled back to thrust again, and then he was coming. Thomas let go of his balls in a haste to get his hand back on Uri’s hip, keeping his eyes tightly closed even as he struggled to suck down as much of his seed as he could manage. It wasn’t enough; he could feel the mess of it on his cheeks and sliding down his neck. But he didn’t want to give up. Not yet, not if... Uri’s hand, so docile against the wall so far, tangled in his hair to pull him back from his crotch just in time for his cock to jerk again and yet more come to paint Thomas’s shoulder.
Thomas stared at it, mouth tasting salty and mind too scattered to figure out what he wanted. He only noticed he was hard when Uri collapsed to his own knees by his side and put a hand to his erection, the other tilting his head so he could lick his own release off Thomas’s cheeks and neck. Thomas swayed in his hold, reaching out for his lover’s arm to keep his balance just in time to clutch at it as Uri got his hand inside his trousers and around his cock.
He was never going to last, but when Uri pushed him onto his back and collected some of his come with his other hand before using that to jerk him off, it was all Thomas could do to lie back and shove through the tight grip a couple of times before his world went white as his brain overloaded.
THE WET WASHCLOTH AGAINST his skin woke him, which, he realised, meant he’d actually lost consciousness. Fuck, that had been good. Strange, too, he was still covered in come, as much as he’d have expected if he hadn’t swallowed any. But amazing. He met Uri’s eyes, and the other man paused. “You okay?”
Thomas laughed, wincing a little at the rasp in his throat. “Oh, no, I’m terrible,” he joked, stopping to swallow. “You just literally fucked my lights out.”
Uri smiled back, still a little unsure, and passed him the towel, which was already a fucking loss. Thomas took it from him, mostly because he didn’t want to put it anywhere else, not even the floor. He extended an arm, and Uri took it at once, pulling him to his feet. They stayed close together afterwards, and when their gazes met, it was impossible for them not to kiss. Uri let out a soft growl, probably tasting himself in Thomas’s mouth still. If he hadn’t put his hand right against the sticky skin of his throat, Thomas would have probably gone again right away.
As it was, he stepped back and held up his hands. “Shower,” he declared with a grimace and turned towards the bathroom. It only took him three steps to realise he wasn’t being followed.
When he turned around, Uri seemed almost embarrassed, which was beyond ridiculous. But Thomas had his number; he raised his eyebrows. “Coming?”
He was.
THOMAS HAD BEEN TAUGHT that if he visited someone he was courting, he should bring them a present. The only thing that’d stopped him the first time around was that despite all the flirting and regardless of the smoking hot sex, he’d been invited to coach a team of teenagers, and he knew all too well how fast a reputation could go with kids. He was ready to put himself out there for Uriel, but he preferred not to do in front of an audience.
But this time he was ready.
Nothing too fancy, just a thoughtful detail. This wasn't exactly a visit, and Uri and he weren't dating, but they had gone on one date so far, and it’d gone well, if he did say so himself. And he was a flexible guy, so he'd ordered three dozen boxes of donuts and sweet pastries to be delivered to the centre in the early afternoon. He still remembered Val’s glee at the chocolate buttons he’d got for her at the cinema, even if he still kind of regretted buying her ice-cream afterwards. If one thing was true in the world, it was that no child could resist sugar.
And then he’d seen Kyeran's face and known he'd fucked up. He looked around until he found Uri speaking quietly to T'Jean's friend Tim. He'd only taken one step in their direction when the other man glanced up as if feeling his approach. Thomas cut his eyes across the room, th
en discretely signed {K} against his chest.
Tim bumped fists with Uri and gave Thomas a nod, leaving them alone in the corner. "So how did I fu—" he cut himself off, realising his voice was too loud. “What’s wrong?”
"Kyeran's diabetic," Uri explained in a normal tone. "We should—"
"I'll call the bakery," Thomas interrupted. "They might even have the information on their website..."
Uri pulled him back by the arm before he could pull his phone out. "We should ask him,” he said firmly. “He might have had a treat earlier, that’s all."
"The biscuits," Thomas realised. "Man, I didn't—"
"You didn't know," Uri told him firmly. "And he manages just fine with the pump. He's only got dizzy once that I have seen."
Thomas nodded. "Okay, if there's anything..."
Uriel smiled at him, squeezing his arm. "You've done a lot already; he's just spent a whole day playing hockey, thanks to you."
"It was my pleasure," he said, and he didn't even mean it as anything but the plain, unvarnished truth. He was sore and his ears were ringing, but he'd had fun with the kids, not just with Uri. He thought he’d keep doing this, as long as it didn’t interfere with the Flames’ schedule, even if... But the warmth of Uri’s touch still lingered on his arm, and why not have his cake and eat it?
Thomas made himself go back to mingling, getting a donut of his own before finding Jamil. "Jamil, right?"
Her dark eyes were sceptical. "Yes."
Thomas kept eating his donut. "You should take over as captain next time we play. Give Blendi a break."
"Why? She's good at it," she said almost sharply. Thomas wasn’t sure if she was Blendi’s age or younger, but then again, between hormonal blockers and replacements, looks were deceiving. Hades, looks were always deceiving.
"Sure, and she's a good striker, but you don't find out what you're good at until you try it. I was a d-man when I was a kid."
"Because you're big?"
