by Aiden Bates
Zachary held in a laugh. His omega-dad liked to bring that up whenever the opportunity arose, which was surprisingly often.
“I bet you’re looking forward to taking some time off from the jet-set lifestyle,” Niles said.
Now it was a groan that Zachary forced himself to suppress. He knew damn well that Bastian had already explained to his folks that Zachary was going to continue working after the baby was born. Zachary’s own parents knew it as well. Alphas and omegas could be so traditional when it came to childrearing. For a group that had faced their fair share of oppression, they could have shockingly little understanding of those who dared to do things a little differently.
Kris looked down at his drink, as if minding his own business, but Zachary knew that his omega-dad was eager for another chance to have the conversation. He acted like his son just didn’t understand how important it was for the omega-father to stay home all the time.
It was as if their brains were connected, but perhaps Bastian had been watching from the other side of the room. He sidled up next to Zachary and put an arm around his waist and a kiss on his temple. Zachary inhaled his scent deeply, like a restorative tonic.
“What are you three up to over here?” Bastian asked, his voice light.
“Hi, Son. Just talking about Zachary’s plans after the baby is born.”
“Dad, we’ve already discussed those plans,” Bastian said. His voice still had that upbeat tone to it, but there was an edge to it, a warning. “Zachary’s and my plans are the same—to both spend as much time with the baby as possible. It’s important for the baby to have both fathers involved in his life. And it’s important for both fathers to be happy and fulfilled. Remind me to send you that study again.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Zachary saw Niles’ mouth drop open ever so slightly, and Zachary’s own omega-father gulped.
“Now, my love,” Bastian said, turning back to Zachary. “Hors d’oeuvres are out, and I bet you want some of those shrimp puffs. Excuse us, fathers. My omega needs to eat.” Bastian grabbed Zachary’s hand authoritatively and pulled him away.
Zachary’s heart swelled with love. Bastian was nothing like his own alpha-father, who could be borderline condescending with his husband, nor like so many of the alpha jerks out there who thought that being born alpha meant they could dominate every omega that crossed their paths. But Bastian was fully capable of exercising that natural leadership that he had, and when it came to Zachary and the baby, he was fully in charge of their happiness and comfort.
“You are my king,” Zachary whispered to him as they piled food on their plates.
“You’re my king, too,” Bastian whispered back with a wink.
Zachary thought to himself, Someone is so getting laid tonight.
As is so often the case, though, wedding preparations and dealing with family wore them out, and while Bastian rubbed Zachary’s feet, later that night as they lay in bed naked, Zachary’s eyes closed and soon he was snoring softly.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“Happy wedding day, my handsome alpha soon-to-be-husband!”
The voice was soft, a whisper, but the excitement was clear.
Bastian smiled before he opened his eyes, and felt around for Zachary.
“Come here, my handsome omega soon-to-be-husband.”
He felt Zachary’s warm, plush body against him, and then felt his lips against his own. Bastian gave him a little lick.
“I haven’t brushed my teeth yet,” Zachary murmured against Bastian’s mouth.
It was true, he had that morning taste and smell, but Bastian liked it. It was earthy and real and never actually horrible. He licked him again.
“We’ve got so much to do!” Zachary protested, but he didn’t move away.
“I’ve been thinking, we’re going to be having our pictures taken, and then the excitement of the ceremony, and then dinner. We’ll be too tired to make love later, so . . . ” Bastian licked at Zachary’s mouth again, this time more slowly, lingering on the inside of his bottom lip, the place that always made the omega moan.
It did not fail to do so this time.
“Okay, but we need to be quick,” Zachary said, melting into him.
Sunlight lay across the bed in streaks, landing on Zachary’s lightly tanned flesh. Bastian ran his fingers over the stripes of light, feeling its warmth. His lover had always had gorgeous skin, but in pregnancy, it was plumper somehow, soft yet firm, like a perfectly ripe piece of fruit. Indeed, Bastian was often tempted to bite it, just to feel that lush texture under his teeth.
He refrained, and instead sat up quickly and moved on top of Zachary’s body.
“I can be quick,” Bastian said with an evil grin. He leaned down and lapped at Zachary’s mouth, while simultaneously pinning his lover’s hands over his head. “Keep those there.”
Zachary looked in his eyes and licked his lips with a nod.
Bastian let go, but the hands stayed put. “Good boy.”
Normally, Bastian enjoyed stretching out the pleasure, but, as Zachary stated, they were in a bit of a crunch. His leaned down and kissed the little fold of skin at the base of Zachary’s cockhead, prompting a gasp.
Bastian never would have anticipated that he would find Zachary’s pregnant body so exciting. He was a beautiful man before the pregnancy, but now he had that telltale glow and a roundness that made him even sexier. His dark gold pubic hair was longer than when they’d first met, because it was harder to trim during pregnancy, but Bastian liked it. Right now, lying before him with his arms stretched obediently over his head, Zachary was irresistible.
Bastian reached over and grabbed the oil he’d used to massage Zachary’s legs the night before. He lifted his lover’s legs up, so that his backside was exposed to him, and then massaged some into the crack of Zachary’s ass, slowly and tenderly.
Another gasp.
Bastian pushed into him. There was a delicious resistance, but nothing that a little pressure couldn’t relax. Soon, Bastian was buried in his lover, and he stayed there for just a moment.
“So tight,” he murmured.
Zachary’s face was the picture of relaxed ecstasy.
“Want me to continue, my love?” Bastian teased.
“Yes, yes, please.”
With smooth, slow strokes, Bastian made love to his almost-husband, running his hands from Zachary’s neck to his knees and then back again as he did so.
Zachary’s eyes stayed on his, those soulful gray eyes that were now glazed with desire. He was biting his lip so hard it looked like it might bleed.
Bastian knew that look.
“Cum for me, my love,” he whispered.
The words were the magic spell, and with a whimper, Zachary let his orgasm speed through him, his cock coming alive as ribbons of semen jumped into the air. The look of desire became a look of love as Bastian insisted on holding his gaze.
The place where their bodies were connected—that warm, wonderful place—contracted around Bastian’s cock over and over, until he couldn’t hold back anymore. With a loud cry, he thrust a final time into Zachary’s body. Release and relief.
He started to collapse onto Zachary, but caught himself, rolling to the side instead.
“You okay?” he asked in-between pants.
Zachary nodded, just smiled, and nuzzled into Bastian’s underarm. “Let’s get fifteen more minutes of sleep,” he finally whispered.
Bastian couldn’t sleep—morning orgasms always perked him up—but he allowed his omega the little nap and watched him as he slept.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The parents insisted the men get ready separately.
“Come on,” said one of them. “Show a little respect for tradition.”
“It’s not tradition,” grumbled Bastian. “It’s superstition, and I believe in science.”
Zachary was saying the same thing in his room.
“But you’re not a scientist, son,” said Kris. “You’re an artist. Su
rely, you appreciate the beauty of these simple acts and how they draw us all closer together.”
Sometimes, Zachary forgot that his omega-father was a sociology major in college.
“If you spend a few hours away from your alpha, then you’ll be more excited to see him, right? And if you spend this time with the family that you’re leaving, the entire day will become even more meaningful for all of us.”
“First of all, Dad, I can tell that you’re just trying to make me feel guilty for spending the night with Bastian, but it’s not like I could have gotten pregnant again. Secondly, I ‘left’ you and Dad almost ten years ago when I went off to school. I think we’re all good. And lastly,” Zachary stopped his father from fussing with his boutonniere, and held his hands. “This day is already incredibly meaningful, and I’m so lucky to have you and Dad here. It couldn’t be any more beautiful.”
His father cleared his throat. “Thank you, son,” Kris said.
Zachary could tell he was trying not to cry.
In the nick of time, his alpha-father entered the room, carrying a small tray with three glasses.
“Kris, will you join me in a champagne? And bubbly water for the groom.” Perry passed out the glasses. “I want to make a brief toast.”
Oh shit, Zachary thought. I’m going to cry. He always makes me cry.
The truth was, as loving and protective an alpha as any had ever been, Perry was also reserved and allowed his omega husband to be the vocal one in their relationship. It had worked well for thirty-some years. So when Perry did speak up, it was well-thought out and carried an automatic weight. Perry Kelso had made his son cry many times—blubbering sobs of love.
“Son, the day you were born was the day that we loved you the least. Because each consecutive day, as you grew, so did our love. We did not know how much we would love you. And so now, my wish for you is that today, your wedding day, be the day that your new husband loves you the least, and that each new day of your life together brings unprecedented amounts of love.”
Perry’s voice was strong but had a slight quaver to it.
Kris started first, with a little sniff, and then, “That was just beautiful, Perry, thank you,” the final two words coming out in a whisper, like when one knows they will sob if they try to speak.
And that pushed Zachary over the edge. Perry handed him a Kleenex and looked alarmed—he always did, as if surprised that his wonderful words could affect anyone like that—and Kris put his arms around Zachary’s shoulders.
“I’m happy—I’m happy—I’m just—hormones—everything makes me—and Dad, that was so beautiful—I’m fine—it’s just—”
He was done in five minutes, and then Kris was ordering cold spoons from room service so that Zachary’s eyes weren’t swollen in the photos.
***
“You ready, Son?”
“I am.”
Zachary stood between his fathers in the rear of the mansion’s garden. On a tropical island filled with the glorious scents and sights of island foliage, here was a small rose garden that had a romantic overgrown look. The sun was low in the sky, and paper lanterns were strung up in the trees.
“Dad, it’s lovely,” Zachary said softly to Kris. He knew that his omega-father had worked hard to make this the most memorable moment of his and Bastian’s life together.
And at the end of the walk was his beautiful Bastian, his overgrown locks brushing the collar of his linen jacket, looking like a romantic wild man from another century. His own fathers were nearby, and his best man stood at his side. It was a precious moment, to see how many people supported this decision.
“Let’s go, boys,” said Perry.
The three men walked together, not arm in arm, but side by side, toward Zachary’s future. A sole guitar player strummed quietly, no tune that Zachary recognized.
“Hi,” Zachary said when he was next to Bastian.
“Hi.”
“I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
The minister cleared her throat. “Would you like me to proceed?”
The small group around them laughed. No one sat, everyone just huddled around. It was very sweet and casual. It was perfect.
The ceremony was as brief as possible. They didn’t want poetic vows or excessive declarations. The men made their promises and their affirmations, they kissed chastely, and it was done.
The dinner party last late into the night. Seven courses by an award-winning chef, lobster and sailfish and ripe fruits and roasted vegetables, many bottles of champagne and wine, and story after story as the Kelso family and the Byers family got to know each other and become one family.
Bastian had been right. By the time they stumbled back to their room, the only thing they had the energy to do was take care of Zachary’s aching feet.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Flying to Costa Rica wasn’t an option for most of the hardworking residents of modest Stellar Landing, so a reception was planned for when the newlywed couple returned from their wedding and honeymoon.
“Is it Byers-Kelso or Kelso-Byers?” Gladys asked the afternoon of the party, as the grooms helped cut vegetables in her kitchen. Her hair was freshly dyed blueberry-blue for the event.
“Wow,” Zachary said. “Can you believe we haven’t even discussed that?” He looked to his husband.
“I don’t really care,” Bastian replied. He popped a cheese cube into his mouth. “Belso? Kyers?”
Zachary rolled his eyes. “We are not going to be the Belsos. And stop eating the cheese. It’s for the party.”
“There’s plenty of cheese to go around, you two. And,” Gladys added, ever the happy peacekeeper, “I think Kyers sounds really cool. Different. Now, you lovebirds get out of here. I’m going to finish up this stuff and then help Mom and Denise decorate the rec room. We don’t want you to see it until six p.m.”
Gladys had planned extensively and worked hard to make a memorable party for her friends. Over the past six months, she had grown very close to Bastian and Zachary. Being one of the only unattached women in Stellar Landing, she sometimes felt left out of all the family activities that her married friends participated in. She was often the sole unattached person at kids’ birthday parties and friends’ anniversary dinners. That could be lonely. Bastian and Zachary made it less so.
(To their credit, her many other friends refused to leave her out, and she did have a busy social life. The only time she turned down the invitations was when she was asked to those ridiculous swingers’ parties. Gladys was no prude, and she’d had a normal amount of lovers for a woman her age, but she drew the line at being passed around Stellar Landing like the village unicorn. On more than one occasion, she had to tell Denise and Aaron to stop pestering her about it. However, she was more than happy to bring a cake and a present to the kids’ birthday parties.)
Thus when Bastian moved to Stellar Landing, she was ecstatic: a young, cosmopolitan guy who wasn’t trying to get in her pants, but occasionally liked to help host a dance party or watch a foreign film in her apartment? Yes, please!
When he and Zachary started to date, she was even more thrilled. Zachary was artistic and hilarious, and he brought out the best in the sometimes reserved Bastian. For the first time in a while, she felt like things were looking up at Stellar Landing. They’d even tossed around the idea of a road trip to Juneau where they could hit some nightclubs.
So when Zachary announced his pregnancy, there was some disappointment on Gladys’s end. Their little social club was shut down before it even had a chance. She was happy for her friends, naturally, but a tiny bit sad for herself.
Everyone in Stellar Landing and the surrounding town knew lovely, sweet, happy Gladys, with the brilliant hair and the playful vintage dresses and the delicious baked goods. But they didn’t know that sometimes she felt alone.
No matter. Her friends were still her friends, and she was ecstatic for the chance to throw them a fantastic party, to show them how much Stellar had
grown to accept and love them.
Today’s menu would be Mexican food, as authentic as a small-town Alaskan gal could do it. When Gladys learned that Zachary had been craving it, she knew what she was making: Mexican street corn on sticks, coated in cotija cheese and sprinkled with chili powder and cilantro; tiny pork and vegetable taco cups; a nacho bar with multiple toppings, including seven different salsas, all lovingly homemade by Gladys and her mom, Holly.
It was one of the first things that Gladys remembered her mother saying: “This is how I show my family I love them,” Holly said, standing over the stove, stirring a pot of chili, or tucking a pastry crust around a pie. “I put my heart into every dish.”
Gladys was taught well. With every chop, I love you. With every stir, May your lives be long and filled with joy.
Her phone beeped as she was washing her hands. She dried them on her vintage apron before picking up to read the text.
A cold feeling rushed through her when she saw the number. She’d deleted the contact but knew the digits by heart.
Not again. Not today.
How’s my boy? it said.
She put the phone back on the counter. She had work to do.
Three minutes later, it beeped again.
You know better than to ignore me, Glad.
She did know better.
He’s great. Very happy. And I’m very busy.
The party is today. What’s for dinner?
Mexican food. She tried to keep it short and sweet.
How are you?
She sighed. Great. Also happy. And, again, busy.
This must be so hard on you.
I’m happy.
I don’t believe you. Do I need to contact your mom?
Leave me the fuck alone, Nick. I need to go.
Send me photos of my boy. I miss him.
She put the phone down. Now she felt sick. Surely, sending a few photos of the happy couple, stuff that would end up on Facebook and Instagram anyway, couldn’t hurt. But she knew she was betraying her friend.
