“Fuck.” Dom roared and shoved their cocks together, a sweet, sinful thrust that went right down to Jesse’s balls.
Pleasure ripped through him like a blaze, punching the breath out of his lungs. Jesse arched as he came, shooting all over inside his pants, his vision going dark as his eyes rolled up into his head.
Dom pinned him against the wall, his breaths hot and ragged on Jesse’s lips, his face scrunched with pleasure.
In the silence that followed, the sheer magnitude of what they’d done filtered through Jesse’s thoughts.
Dom was his deputy.
Dom was his enemy.
And they’d rubbed their cocks against each other, they’d come together in a shadowy back alley like they’d had some forbidden tryst.
Jesse had offered to take Dom’s cock. And Dom had touched where his hole was, he’d offered to give Jesse the fucking of a lifetime.
What the hell have I done? Disgusted with himself, he shoved Dom away, stumbling as he tried to leave the alley. He needed to get home. He didn’t know how he was going to face Dom when they showed up for duty the day after.
His legs felt like they’d lost their bones. His head was fuzzy. As much as Jesse tried to walk straight, he couldn’t. He tasted whiskey, and a hint of lemon on his tongue. From a whiskey sour he’d been staring at the whole night.
Dom’s kiss shouldn’t have made him so damn hot. Even now, Jesse’s lips tingled with the memory of it.
Footsteps sounded behind him. Jesse ignored that man and kept walking, weaving through the parking lot behind the bar.
Dom grabbed his arm. “You’re not riding home.”
Jesse jerked away from him. “I wasn’t gonna.”
But Dom grabbed him again, his jaw set. When Jesse yanked on his arm this time, Dom didn’t let go. Instead, he hauled Jesse to the line of cabs waiting outside the bar.
“I can do this by myself,” Jesse snapped.
Dom opened the back door of a cab and shoved Jesse in. Then he pulled out his wallet and threw some notes at the driver. “Take him home. Keep the change.”
Was Dom treating him like— “Fuck you,” Jesse hissed. “I’m not an omega.”
Dom’s eyes flashed. “You sure smell like one.”
How was Jesse supposed to answer him? That he hadn’t always smelled like cinnamon, until the Facility happened?
Dom slammed the car door shut. Jesse had been lucky he’d seen it coming, or it’d have sent him into another panic attack.
Then he hated himself for freaking out over stupid small things like that, he hated that he wore the scars of his past on his skin. That he smelled so differently from everyone else.
Not for the first time, Jesse wished he could be a normal person, and blend in with everyone else. So people would stop staring at him in fear. So people would stop asking him questions.
So he could stop being so jumpy, and maybe Dom would respect him more.
In the end, it kept boiling down to Dom, and those copper-brown eyes judging him.
“Where you headed?” the cab driver asked.
Jesse only wished he knew.
8
Dom is Screwed
“You’re early today,” Harris said when Dom stepped into the station kitchen.
Dom poured himself some coffee—black, with no cream or sugar. Then he took a seat across from Harris, who was going through some reports from Team C. “I’m always early.”
“Yeah, but an hour early? You’d much rather be working out at the gym.”
Yeah, well. Dom had spent the last two hours at the gym, and he was tired of the thoughts bouncing around in his head. “Been there, done that.”
Harris glanced up, eyebrow raised. “That’s not like you.”
Dom breathed out the frustration in his chest. Understatement of the year. “Really?”
Harris finished reading the last of his reports, before setting them down to look Dom in the eye. “What happened?”
Fucked our subordinate, was what happened, Dom almost said. But he didn’t need Harris judging him for it, on top of how much crap he was already giving himself.
And it had been as good as fucking. Few things got more intimate than sharing a breath, pushing your tongue into someone else’s mouth, all while your hard cocks rubbed together, pleasure jolting up your spine.
When Dom had reached home two nights ago, his come had soaked through his underwear, his knot heavy as ever. And there had been a trace of cinnamon on his skin.
And he would’ve gone right back to do it all over again.
“It’s complicated,” was what he ended up saying.
Harris glanced at the wall clock. “Hit me with it. We’ve got time.”
Dom didn’t want to. He already risked changing their team dynamics, without Harris somehow making it worse. “Fucked up on something. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Harris’ eyebrows rose further. “You? Fucking up?”
What had possessed him to kiss Sinclair, Dom had no idea. Except it had been the most electrifying kiss he’d had in a while, with lips and teeth and tongue. And he could still taste the hint of a white Russian in his mouth. An alpha shouldn’t taste that good. “Change of topic.”
“Sure. How was bar night?”
Something must’ve shown on his face, because Harris leaned in. “They’re related, aren’t they?” Harris asked shrewdly.
Sometimes, Dom wished his captain wasn’t so sharp. He sighed. “Tell me about you and Valen. How’d you even start dating him?”
Valen was the C Team captain, an alpha roughly twenty years younger than Harris. Dom had attended their wedding some years back. At that point, he’d thought that having a taste for alphas was an odd quirk of Harris’, and nothing more.
Harris smiled wryly. “We started off by fighting.”
Damn it. Dom winced. “That’s it? Fighting ends up with you getting married?”
Harris glanced around, to make sure no one was within earshot. Then he dropped his voice. “Yeah. We were fighting in the locker room and things went sideways.”
Dom rubbed his face.
