“You tell me.” Dale held his breath, watching as Greg crouched over him, his hands on either side of Dale’s hips, his mouth a hairsbreadth from Dale’s belly.
Greg tugged Dale’s shirt out of his pants, exposing his abdomen. He studied it for a while, before pressing his nose to Dale’s skin. “You don’t smell as strong today.”
“I used the suppressants.”
Greg sucked in a deep breath, air rushing cool against Dale’s skin. “I smell you faintly. It’s still sweet.”
“So the tests are probably right.”
“Very likely.” Greg kissed his belly, right over where the baby was, and Dale’s cheeks burned. He cares.
“You’re my student,” he croaked.
Greg glared. “Not here, I’m not. You know what you’re supposed to say.”
Dale swallowed. Yes, he knew. And it felt right when he murmured, “You’re my alpha.”
Greg kissed further down Dale’s abdomen, then back up, over Dale’s heart. At his lips, Greg whispered, “You’re my omega,” and Dale’s pulse thumped so loud he thought Greg might hear it.
“Really?” he asked.
“Yeah.” Greg kissed him again, soft and languid. For a while, Dale lost himself in Greg, just holding him, savoring the strength of his body. Greg had fathered his child. He was here, promising his care, and Dale felt safe with him. Felt as though Greg would never abandon him, not like Charles had.
It was a relief, knowing that Greg would stay.
The phone buzzed on the table. Greg paused, glancing at it.
“Over here,” Dale whispered, tugging on his shirt. “I’m your omega.”
Greg hesitated. Then he looked back at Dale, and his next kiss scorched through Dale’s nerves, all the way down to his toes.
Much later, when they were peeling themselves apart on the couch, their clothes strewn around them, Greg glanced at his phone again.
“Were you expecting a message?” Dale croaked, his voice hoarse. Hopefully, he hadn’t been too loud. Greg had worked him into a frenzy, and he’d forgotten himself. And that was probably the third time they’d fucked in twenty-four hours.
“No.” Greg grabbed the phone from the coffee table. The lock screen flashed, then the app notifications. Dale pushed himself up, peering over his shoulder.
In a text message from Dad, Dale read, I met with your professor today. Dale Kinney. I thought that hibiscus scent smelled familiar.
“Shit,” Greg said.
Dale’s breath hitched. “What?”
“He smelled you on me the other day. After your heat. I told him I’m dating some imaginary guy on the basketball team.”
Dale swallowed, his heart thumping. Not only had Bernard recognized Greg’s scent, but he’d recognized Dale’s, too. “I screwed up big time, huh?”
Greg shrugged, tapping on the Reply button. I’ve told you, Ivan smells like hibiscus too.
“I hope he doesn’t start looking into the basketball team,” Dale said, pressing a hand to his damp chest. His heart thudded against his palm. “He certainly has the means to.”
“It’s not like hibiscus is a rare scent, either,” Greg said. “There are a few others on campus who smell like you.”
Dale gulped anyway, squirming, his stomach a heavy lump.
“I’ll distract him with this Ivan,” Greg said, waving his phone. “Just that Ivan is busy and doesn’t have time to meet with him. That’ll take his mind off you.”
“But what if he finds out you’re lying?”
“He’ll cut my tuition and board.” Greg leaned back into the couch, glancing up at the ceiling. “I’m fine with that.”
“You are?”
“Yeah. Actually, I was going to talk to you about my career yesterday. Before the pregnancy tests.” Greg smiled, looking at Dale’s bare chest. “But I guess we can talk now. It’s probably easier, since you know what I think about my future.”
Greg set his phone back on the table, rubbing down his calves. Up close, the pink burn scars covered most of his shins. Their edges were uneven, like watercolor soaked through paper, and Dale couldn’t imagine how much pain Greg had been in. Or how long he had taken to heal.
“Does it still hurt?” he murmured, reaching down to stroke smooth skin. Greg’s calf twitched against his touch.
“Sometimes,” Greg said. “I had to have physical therapy for a bit after the fire. I don’t remember much of it.”
And from there, Greg had pushed himself all the way to become an MVP.
“You’re amazing,” Dale breathed, dragging his hands up Greg’s legs, admiring the strength in his body. “You’ve come a long ways in four years.”
Greg snorted. “More like it was something else to focus on. Some days, I couldn’t think of Tony without puking.”
Dale winced. That, too, had to have been difficult. “But you’ve changed for the better. You’ve climbed out of all that to become someone stronger.” Dale swallowed, looking at Greg’s calves, then at his own hands. “I’m still... well. Still not much to speak of.”
“You’re a professor, aren’t you?” Greg angled a glance at him, leaning in, his shoulder warm against Dale. “You’ve been doing well yourself. You’ve got your own lab and everything.”
“It took nineteen years. I had to go back to school. Get my PhD. I was bussing tables on the side.” Dale chuckled, looking up at the ceiling. And all that time had somehow passed in the blink of an eye. “It didn’t only take four years.”
“Then you’re stronger than I am,” Greg murmured, leaning in to kiss his cheek.
Dale blushed. “It just means I’m slow. I don’t even have tenure yet.”
“How much longer will it take?”
“Two years.” He sighed.
“You can do it,” Greg whispered, sliding his arms around Dale, tugging Dale against his damp chest. “I’ll believe in you.”
Dale’s heart squeezed. Greg was incredibly sweet. He talked to Dale like there weren’t twenty years between them. Like they were both equals. Like he was genuinely interested in Dale for who he was. Few others had done this for Dale, and Dale... didn’t want to let him go.
“Come on,” he said. “We’ll talk about your career through a shower. I’m sticky.”
Unwillingly, Dale pulled
