Not Destiny

by N. J. Lysk

  He had no psychic bond, just his legs and arms, years of training and passion, and the knowledge, deep and true, that when he commanded it, the puck would go in.

  It wasn't hubris but a rare certainty that sometimes came over him when his body and mind found that perfect balance he spent his days chasing after. He evaded the Salamanders’ right-winger with ease, like the man was moving at a slower speed.

  Keenan skated close enough to almost brush by him, then moved away again, his stick tangled with the biggest of the Salamanders' defenders.

  And Thomas was home free. The goalie was still there, of course, but at the speed he was going, it took only the snap of his wrist to send the puck flying across the ice, fast but twisted. The goalie threw herself forward, and Thomas heard the puck hit her stick with a sinking feeling, but then she fumbled, skates not angled well enough to keep her balance and, like a magic trick, she shifted just enough that the puck popped right over her stick and slid, slow but steady, over into the purple area.

  The goal lit up. Thomas screamed, jumping high enough it was fortunate Keenan threw his arms around him as soon as he was back on solid ground.

  They were three goals ahead and there were only a few minutes left of play, so Thomas allowed his eyes to wander to the stands. Familiar dark eyes met his. Uri was grinning wide enough Thomas could see his teeth shining under the stadium lights. He smiled back, then returned to the game, knowing he’d be received like a king as soon as he got his street clothes on.

  And that those wouldn’t be staying on long past his apartment door.

  HE WASN’T NERVOUS, really. He knew his sisters would love Uri, the guy was practically a saint and he’d insisted on picking up home-made muffins and who knew what else from a professional chef he happened to know. He was smarter than Thomas, and he’d asked ahead of time if anyone had any food allergies, so there was no chance he wouldn’t be received with smiles all around.

  “Do you want to plait my hair?” Colleen asked, startling him a little.

  “What?”

  “You’re about ready to crawl out of your skin, aren’t you? So you can start biting your cuticles or you can plait my hair.”

  She was right, of course. “Hair,” he chose, and she smiled at him, patting his shoulder.

  “It’ll be fine,” Colleen told him, lifting her hair so it fell over the back of her chair. “We just want you to be happy.”

  “Yeah, I know. I guess... I guess it feels weird to hide this from them.”

  Colleen turned around from where she’d sat with her back to him to give him an incredulous look. “Now you want our parents to be all sharing and caring? We have been editing the truth for years.”

  “Yes, but this is serious. If...”

  “If it lasts?”

  “Yes, if it’s a... if it’s a serious relationship, then not telling them...”

  She sighed, then got to her feet and threw her arms around his neck, curling up around him like she could protect him. She didn’t say anything else, and Thomas held her back, close and warm, loving him as he was and asking for nothing but to be loved in return. He wanted more. He wanted his father to say he was proud, and to argue with Uri about fair practice; he wanted his dad to make him his favourite food when he won a case, he— He wasn’t going to get more.

  It was fine to want it, to wish for better... as long as he didn’t lose sight of what he did have: this woman in his arms, strong enough to hold back the tide of their parents’ expectations without letting it make her bitter. And his other sisters, too, young for sure, but wise beyond their years and a joy to his life he’d never have enough of.

  He had those perfect moments on the ice with Carry and Keenan and the rest of the team.

  And he had Uriel too. Not for good or forever, but as long as it made them both happy. The promise not to never let go but to always hold each other gently. Well, unless—

  “Group hug!” Val screeched, and soon she was on their side, squeezing them too hard. Eira laughed, but Thomas smelt her new perfume—never shopping, his arse—and then her longer arms on his other side. She also shouted for Grace right into his ear, making him wince and Val and Colleen laugh.

  To his surprised, he heard his other sister speak behind him. “Don’t shout,” she warned them all, and the others immediately shushed. Grace leaned her cheek against Thomas’s exposed ear, hands coming to rest on his shoulders. He could hear her breathing and although she was perfectly capable of giving someone a hug if she had to, she couldn’t relax when she did. Now, she was almost pliant against him, trusting him—and the super-light chair—to support her weight.

  Colleen put an end to the cuddling when she squeezed his neck and straightened. “Okay, I’m too old to lean over like that for long,” she said.

  “You’re nineteen,” Eira pointed out, also letting go.

  “Yeah, wait until you are this old,” Colleen replied. “Now, Thomas promised to plait my hair. Wanna help?”

  BY THE TIME URI RANG the bell, Colleen’s dark mane was almost completely plaited, ends tied with aluminium foil from one of the ready-made meals Thomas hadn’t yet reheated. She only smelled a little bit like tomato sauce, but Thomas was starving.

  “Hey,” he told Uri.

  “Oh, hi.” The man was loaded with bags and his next words made Thomas snort. “You didn’t need to come down.”

  “Give that here,” Thomas told him. “These muscles aren’t just for show,” he added, flexing dramatically.

  Uri didn’t blush, instead giving him an appreciative once-over. “No? They make a great show.”

  “You’re just trying to delay the inevitable,” Thomas warned him. “They’re nice, I promise.”

  “I’m not worried about that,” Uri said, passing over one of the bulging bags. Thomas took it and he let go but didn’t pull his hand back, instead he reached for Thomas’s face, running his fingers down the edge of his jaw—currently just shaved at Val’s insistence that he prickled. “You.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, just because they’re nice it doesn’t mean they’ll think I’m good enough for their hero.”

  “I’m no hero.” Thomas snorted, rolling his eyes. He didn’t step away, but then again, was there a world where he’d want Uri to stop touching him?

  Uri tutted, his breath hot and lemony against Thomas’s chin. “You haven’t invented any vaccinations, or saved anyone from a burning building, but for your sisters...” He was so close all Thomas would have to do to kiss him... “You are the one who’s there when they need someone to be on their side. That’s a hero.”

  It took him a moment to process the words and when he did, he startled badly enough to dislodge Uri’s hand. He stared at the other man, pulse hammering in his throat. He tried to think of how to explain, how to describe... It was just the way it was with him and his sisters, they were there for each other, they protected each other from their parents and the world at large, they gave each other time and tears and shoulders to cry them on. That wasn’t heroism, that was family.

  Except maybe, if heroes were people who saved you when you thought you were beyond salvation, then it still counted. Even if nothing was burning and no one was drowning, not outside their own head. Even if it was just the little kindnesses piling up and reminding you that you were loved, worthy, lovable.

  “Then they’re mine,” he told Uri, letting himself sag forward until he could rest his forehead against his boyfriend’s. Letting himself breathe in his scent: skin and a little sweat and those lemon flavoured sweets he always sucked on.

  “I know,” Uri whispered back, free hand curling around his waist.

  THOMAS DIDN'T THINK he was a hero, except maybe to some kid who had his jersey and a signed poster on their bedroom wall, but he thought Uri believed it. He could see it, that Uri, who fought injustice full time and offered kindness for free in his time off, thought what Thomas was doing with his life was important.

  And maybe he was right. Small scale, sur
e, but he knew he was important to his sisters, that he made their lives better. And the way Uri looked at him made him wonder if he could do more, not just for them.

  His parents would love the idea of him volunteering at the adoption centre almost as much as they would hate the source of his inspiration being his relationship with an alpha. But even if he couldn’t stop the echo of their voices in his head, he didn’t have to either stop because of their disapproval or rebel against the opposite.

  He loved playing hockey with the kids, and he liked the kids, their sometimes-ridiculous expectations of the world, their unrelenting thirst for fairness when they’d experienced so little, their frankly awful puns for any occasion.

  And he certainly didn’t mind the idea of getting to spend even more time with Uri.

  Val was holding the door open for them when they got upstairs, and she gave them both a suspicious look. “You took a long time.”

  Thomas risked a glance at his lover’s carefully blank expression, then shushed his little sister. “Don’t be rude, Val, Uri’s got you guys a mountain of pastries.”

  “Pastries?” she echoed, eyes flying to the carrier bags.

  “Put on the kettle and the coffee maker,” Thomas told her, getting her to vacate the doorway just in time for him to hold it open for his prince.

  Uri’s smile was shy but knowing.

  “What?” Thomas asked, feigning innocence. “She loves using the coffee maker.”

  “Sure,” Uri said, then straightened. “Um, hi there.”

  It was Colleen, arms crossed and face expressionless. “So this is the alpha.”

  “Colleen!” Thomas snapped. He had told her about Uri's orientation, of course, but he hadn’t mentioned how uncomfortable it made the man. Even so...

  “It’s fine,” Uriel told him, but he wasn’t doing a very good job of pretending it hadn’t hurt.

  “What...?” Colleen dropped the threatening act at once. “Why shouldn’t I call him an alpha?”

  “Just don’t,” Thomas said tightly. “You know his name, use it.”

  She backed down at once. She could be a little harsh at times, but when she said she believed in equality, she meant it too. “Uriel, right? Or is it Uri?”

  Uri hesitated, but then he nodded and offered a hand to shake. “Uri’s good.”

  “I’m Colleen,” she replied, soft smile progressively turning wicked. “And I’m the one who knows the most embarrassing stories.”

  Uri laughed, open and surprised, then raised the bag he was holding. “Here’s your bribe. My friend Rimini is a baker, works for the uni too. Experiments with flavour. So these here...”

  “Is there chocolate?” Val asked, stopping only short of smashing her face into the bag.

  “Of course,” Uri said.

  “Is the coffee ready?” Thomas intervened before his little sister could start begging for scraps like a puppy.

  “Of course,” she said, so closely matching Uri’s intonation that both Colleen and he snorted.

  He looked back at Uri, raising his eyebrows. He was also smiling, and he shrugged when he caught Thomas’s questioning look, as if to say that he didn’t have enough evidence to be convinced yet.

  Chapter Twenty-Two: Uriel

  It was easier to do what had to be done, to move forward when not to would result in tragedy. He didn’t hesitate in court, he wouldn’t hesitate in a fight, but in this... This relationship, because that’s what it was. Thomas was his lover, and they had a relationship. It was just so goddamned easy. That was the thing, they bantered like they’d known each other for years and when it came to sex, Thomas made him wonder if he was somehow reading his mind. He could play Uri’s body like he had learned all his tells before even touching him once.

  It seemed stupid to risk something that was already perfect for... for something he didn’t need.

  He didn’t need to fuck, so he hadn’t asked. He just... He just couldn’t stop thinking about it, about the way Thomas had accepted the news with such curiosity, the way he’d held Uri against the wall and asked if he wanted it, the way he’d felt—strong and unmovable—and the way he’d sounded—soft and concerned...

  He shook his head, trying to calm himself down. He didn’t need it, no matter what bullshit people made up about alphas. But he wanted it. That closeness, that passion that bordered on violence but was the furthest thing from dangerous because when they held each other down, it was never done out of anything but love, or with anything but the other's pleasure in mind.

  Thomas hadn’t asked either. But of course, he wouldn’t, he was the one who could talk about these things openly and without shame, who understood without seemingly needing to reason it out or justify it. It was pleasure and it was shared and it was good.

  He also understood how— how afraid Uri was. He’d known from the beginning, tempting him with baths to make him stay, touching him gently and teasing him to distract him when things got too intense. Being an alpha was meant to be proof of strength, but it was Thomas who’d held him up and protected him.

  He wanted that again, to give it all up, to close his eyes and just let Thomas open him up slowly and carefully and then fuck into him, slow at first but speeding up as he heard Uri start to whimper for him. His cheeks were flaming, and he could not make his heart slow down, but he was done being a coward.

  He was done giving into that fear, giving it power, making it real. He liked domination. No, dammit, he could say it: he liked being dominated.

  And he liked doing the dominating too. That was almost harder to admit. Wanting to get fucked made him feel uncomfortable and vulnerable, but so did many other things. Wanting to dominate someone... that was the kind of thing he was meant to like. The kind of thing that was meant to make him an alpha.

  The kind of thing he had always thought of doing with the love of his life and felt sick for wanting. For so long, the world had told him to push an omega to their knees, and Uri had felt his cock harden even as his stomach twisted with disgust. Even then, he’d allowed himself the fantasies. In his head, there was no one else to hurt but himself. And it had hurt, to want something like that, something that meant he’d be in control of another person like— like he owned them.

  It was not called a bond by accident. It was meant to bind two people together, forever, without the choice of taking it back. No matter what.

  Taking away someone’s choices was horrific enough, but to make them give them up for love, give up their very autonomy to their partner as a matter of course... There was no sex or love worth his freedom, and there was nothing in the world worth taking away someone else’s.

  It was that simple, and yet...

  That kind of connection had always been the fantasy, even before he’d presented, he’d lain in bed and thought about losing himself in someone else’s body and pleasure, the way they’d arch and give themselves up to him...

  And then once he’d presented, the fantasies had made reality bearable. It’d made up for how hard it was to come when he was tired, or someone was asking him to go slow.

  It’d made it okay to fuck someone hard and fast when they asked and only when they asked. Because he was doing it for them. Because it was a fantasy and not something he wanted in reality.

  Except it wasn’t true. He did want it.

  He didn’t want an omega on their knees for him, staying at home and offering him refreshments, looking after his needs before their own and meant to be happy with a universe that consisted of one person’s needs.

  But he wanted to see a man falling apart under him, whimpering softly as he took his cock, begging not so silently for more, and...

  Thomas had offered.

  He exhaled, and Thomas turned to look at him. He was washing the dishes from dinner, tapping the cutlery against the edge of the sink every time he rinsed it, half-music, half-drying. “You alright?”

  Uri gritted his teeth and nodded, but he was thinking through the right words too. This wasn’t the kind of th
ing he needed to do if he wanted to avoid disaster, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t necessary.

  He’d lied to Thomas once already and almost lost him, if he meant this to last... “I want to fuck,” he said, staring straight ahead.

  “Oh.” Thomas’s eyes were wide and very dark. “Yeah?” he checked, smiling a little. The water had turned off, but he still had a soapy glass in his hand. He was already licking his lips, taking a cautious step closer.

  He looked... well, eager. Why shouldn’t he be? Uri reminded himself. He’d said he wanted this, he’d chosen to be here.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed, heart still trying to break his ribs but mind slowing down a little. “But wash your hands first.”

  Thomas glanced down at the glass, snorted, and shook his head at himself, then obeyed.

  He was across the room and taking Uri’s face between his hands what seemed like seconds later. He hadn’t been required to dry his hands and he hadn’t bothered. Uri opened his mouth to his tongue even as cold water drops trickled down his neck.

  When Thomas finally let him up for air, his underwear felt too tight already. “So... Preference?”

  He should have said, then asked, but he couldn’t make himself. “What’s yours?”

  Thomas didn’t vacillate, he grinned and gave him a lewd look, licking his lips. “Your cock, as deep as it’ll go up my arse.”

  Uri’s vision blurred for a second and he had to swallow hard before he could manage words of his own.

  Just one word, really. “Yes.”

  Thomas’s hands on his arms tightened for a moment, then softened into a caress until he was just leaning forward, letting Uri support his weight. “The floor is yours, sir,” he whispered, a wet, hot breath tickling Uri’s neck.

  He didn’t quite decide to take hold of Thomas’s wrists and pull them up, stepping into him until his back hit the wall. It was lucky there was a wall and not a chair or something less sturdy on the way. He paused there, breathing in Thomas’s familiar scent and centring himself. If he was in charge, then he was in control—he could make no mistakes.