“Sinclair,” Dom murmured, brushing his fingertips against Jesse’s nape. He pulled back a little, looking into Jesse’s eyes—and there was a softness about his gaze that Jesse hadn’t seen on him before. “I won’t blame you for cutting those beads out. And I don’t care that you have a uterus, or whatever. It’s there. I know. But you’re still you.”
It sounded so damn sappy that Jesse knew he should say something, except he couldn’t.
“You’re still an alpha to me,” Dom murmured.
Jesse’s throat tightened. “Why?”
Dom shrugged. “Body parts don’t decide who you are.”
“But I have omega hormones. And—And that time I was here.” Jesse wet his lips, his face heating up. He couldn’t bring himself to describe it all.
Dom only growled, pleased. “The best part about that night was that you’re an alpha. And you let me have you.”
Jesse’s blush went all the way down his neck. “That just makes it weird, doesn’t it?”
“Just makes it hot.” Dom’s eyes darkened; he squeezed Jesse’s ass, slowly pressing him against the counter. His was a heavy weight, demanding and firm. Through the thin material of his sleeping shorts, Jesse felt the pressure of Dom’s bulge against his own. Then Dom’s nostrils flared, like he was filling his lungs with Jesse’s scent.
Jesse couldn’t breathe, suddenly, when all he could see was Dom. He didn’t know what this feeling was. It felt like an ocean wave in his chest, like something big building in his body, something inevitable.
Despite everything Jesse had said to him over the years, despite Jesse being younger, and broken—Dom had stopped judging him. Jesse still had problems with himself, but Dom... accepted him. Dom looked into Jesse and saw him for who he was. And that was incredible.
Jesse bowed his head before he could think; Dom pressed a damp kiss to his forehead. Then he tipped Jesse’s face up, his gaze intent. “We meet as equals, Sinclair. You won’t bow for me.”
Not like an omega, Dom didn’t say, but he didn’t have to.
Something fluttered in Jesse’s chest—something changed between them right then.
“I still hate you,” Jesse said.
Dom’s smile in return was fierce, savage. “Yeah, keep doing that.”
Then he leaned forward and crashed their lips together, and Jesse’s entire body pulled tight, every single nerve lighting up.
19
“Donut”, or “Please”
Sinclair tasted like soda and cookies. Dom slid into his mouth, drunk on his flavor. It had been so long—too damn long—since he’d tasted this man, and he’d been starving.
Dom needed Sinclair beneath him, he needed Sinclair to gasp and groan, his face scrunching up when Dom touched between his legs. When Dom slid inside him.
That thought made his throat go dry. He reached down, finding Sinclair hard behind his sleeping shorts. Dom’s clothes. An answering hunger roared through his veins, shooting straight to his cock.
Dom shoved Sinclair roughly against the counter and ground their hips together; Sinclair swore, his cock jerking, his teeth scraping against Dom’s lower lip.
“Damn you,” Sinclair breathed, but there was no anger anywhere on him. Just an eager sort of desire when he parted his lips, his tongue tangling with Dom’s in a sweet, intoxicating dance.
Dom thrust into his mouth, savoring the groan that Sinclair couldn’t stifle in time. “Yeah? You like it when I put things inside you?” Dom whispered.
Sinclair shivered. Dom thought those words might’ve reminded Sinclair of his past, but Sinclair only tightened his fists in Dom’s clothes, yanking them closer. “I’m not gonna beg,” Sinclair hissed.
Dom’s mouth curved in a dark smile; Sinclair’s aggression made his nerves hum like a cello string. “On the contrary, Sinclair,” he whispered. “You will beg for my cock.”
“Fuck you,” Sinclair snarled, heaving Dom backward. Dom found his footing in time, but his back met the fridge with a hard thump. Sinclair was there immediately, biting down on Dom’s lower lip, forcefully enough to draw blood. Pain burst down Dom’s body. Sinclair loved doing that, it seemed, when his eyes darkened and he dragged his tongue over Dom’s bleeding lip. Then he bit a second time, leaving another mark. Dom’s mouth throbbed.
“Maybe you ought to be punished,” Dom whispered, grasping Sinclair’s firm ass. It was solid beneath his fingers, warm and inviting. Dom couldn’t help pushing his hand down the back of Sinclair’s shorts.
Sinclair wasn’t wearing any underwear beneath. His ass was hot and smooth, and Dom grasped it, spreading him open. So Sinclair could feel how exposed his hole was, and how Dom would touch him there.
“Fuck,” Sinclair hissed, musk rolling off his skin.
“Yeah? You like when I open your ass?” Dom growled into his mouth. “Want something big in there?”
Then he reached deeper and touched the pucker of Sinclair’s hole, pressing down lightly on it. Such a sweet, tight entrance. Sinclair wheezed, his pupils blowing wide, his breath punching out of him.
He’d reacted the same exact way when Dom fucked him the first time.
“Fuck, Sinclair.” Dom grew so hard, he ached. He swirled his finger around Sinclair’s entrance, lightly tapping on it. So Sinclair knew where Dom had set his sights. Sinclair groaned and swore, yanking on Dom’s clothes.
Except Dom removed his hand, bringing it up between them. He met Sinclair’s eyes. “I’m not going back there tonight,” Dom whispered. “You want it, you’ll have to ask me for it.”
Then, with Sinclair’s attention locked on him, Dom took his fingertip into his mouth, tasting the very barest trace of Sinclair’s musk and dampness. It tasted like an omega’s slick, but darker, earthier.
“I can’t believe you,” Sinclair hissed.
Dom only smiled. “I’ll lick your hole if you say ‘Please’.”
Sinclair exhaled in a slow, measured breath, his eyes burning. Like he wanted badly for Dom to lick him, fuck him, but he wouldn’t let himself ask for it.
“No fucking way,” Sinclair muttered, every word low and forceful, vibrating against Dom’s lips.
“Yeah, try to convince yourself. You’re getting there.” Dom flipped them around, thumping Sinclair against the fridge, rutting their covered cocks together—flesh on sensitive
