“No shit.” Greg studied him, his shoulders still taut. “How do you want to get home?”
“I should walk for a distance. Or maybe all the way home.”
“Ten miles? You have to be kidding.” Greg narrowed his eyes. “I’m driving, and I want you at home with me.”
Dale breathed in again, the murmur of conversation washing through his ears. The plug sat heavy in his body, and he wanted Greg closer, wanted Greg to help banish the dinner from his mind. Dale couldn’t forget Bernard’s scrutiny, couldn’t forget the sick dread that had never left his chest the entire night.
“Is your dad gone yet?” he asked, looking at his feet. “I’m just... I’d rather not walk alone out there. It’s dark.”
Greg walked to the glass doors, peering out through them. Then he returned to Dale, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I don’t see my dad’s car. C’mon, let’s go.”
Dale followed him out of the restaurant, glancing around. Bernard Hastings drove a silver Rolls Royce, but it was nowhere in The Apex’s parking lot. Dale fell into step next to Greg, cracking a smile when Greg pulled open the Porsche’s passenger door for him. “You really don’t have to.”
“Get in.”
“Fine.” But Dale’s smile grew a little wider. They’d survived the dinner.
Greg slid into the driver’s seat, shutting the door. In the dim ceiling light that came on, he was handsome, with his strong jaw, his dark eyes, his full lips. He watched Dale, his gaze raking over Dale’s face, down his chest to his thighs. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” Greg murmured. “Dinner took forever.”
“It did,” Dale sighed, reaching over to squeeze his thigh. Greg’s warmth soaked into his palm, steady and comforting.
The ceiling light shut off, plunging them into darkness.
For a beat, nothing happened. Then Greg slid his hand around the back of Dale’s head, pulled him close.
They met in a desperate kiss, Greg’s lips on Dale’s in a brief, chaste touch, before he pushed his tongue into Dale’s mouth, tangling them together. Heat spiraled through Dale’s gut. He opened for his alpha, curling his fingers into Greg’s shirt to drag him closer. Greg tasted like peppermint, like dessert and alpha, and Dale hadn’t had enough.
Greg’s palm slid down his chest, heavy and hot. Then he dipped it lower, past Dale’s belly, cupping him between the legs. Dale gasped. Greg massaged his cock, and Dale moaned into his mouth, his hips rocking up, his pants tight. The entire car smelled like musk.
“Want something?” Greg breathed against his lips, grinding the heel of his palm down on Dale’s cock. Pleasure jolted up his spine. Dale whined, his fingers digging into Greg’s thigh, nails scraping on denim. They shouldn’t be doing this, not out here.
Dale shoved himself away, panting, his nipples hard. “Home. Get home. I want your knot.”
A groan rumbled in Greg’s throat. He pushed his key into the ignition, started the car. In the faint orange glow of the dashboard, he looked fierce, predatory, and Dale wanted his alpha closer. Wanted Greg pushing him down into their bed, his teeth on Dale’s scent glands, marking him.
He slid his hand between Greg’s legs, caressing the hard line in his pants. Greg hadn’t come this afternoon, and Dale wanted to return the favor, pleasure his alpha. Greg bared his teeth, pressing Dale’s palm flush against his cock. It strained in his pants, and Dale’s throat went dry. Greg wanted him.
“We’re heading back,” Greg said, his voice hoarse.
They pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, the streetlamps glowing orange around them, casting moving shadows through the car. Dale held his breath, breathed out. He shouldn’t distract Greg right now, not while he was driving.
“I know dinner was a shitshow,” Greg said. “But did you have any favorite parts?”
“Possibly the duck confit. Mm, dark meat.” Dale sank back into his seat, willing his distracted mind to focus on food. “Possibly the ice cream. It wasn’t too minty, you know? Just smooth vanilla with a hint of peppermint. And the chocolate chips. Mmm. Which was your favorite dish?”
“The lamb wasn’t bad.” Greg flicked on a turn signal, glancing over. “But I like your cooking more.”
Dale grinned. “You’re just sucking up to me.”
“Have you known me to suck up to you?” Greg snorted. “Maybe suck on you, but that’s it.”
“Ha! You were sucking up to your dad, though.”
Greg blew out a breath. “Yeah, well.”
He sobered, and Dale looked at the textured surfaces on the inside of his door, thinking about his own childhood. His parents were gone. They’d been insistent that he marry a good alpha, and bear his alpha children. It wasn’t the best way to grow up, or the best life motto to adopt. But some of it had stuck, and he couldn’t help the yearning for children of his own.
“I don’t suppose your childhood was all that pleasant,” Dale said.
“Could’ve been worse.” Greg rolled his shoulders. “I loved comics, though. Had bookcases of them.”
“Really?” Dale perked up, groaning when the plug shifted inside him. “I’ve never seen you read for pleasure.”
“Not these days. But I still have a wall of them in my apartment. Used to act them out—in fact, that was what I did with Tony. We found our favorite parts of Super Alpha and my mom made costumes. He played the villain, Vilso, and I was Super Alpha. It was goddamn cheesy.” Greg met his eyes at a stoplight. “You wanna see? We took some photos—there’s a whole album or two.”
Dale’s smile had been growing at Greg’s recount. He’d wondered what Greg looked like as a boy, wondered about his childhood. And the vision of Greg in superhero costumes was too adorable to refuse. “Sure.”
Greg smiled, making a U-turn. Dale squirmed with excitement. It was different from the desire a few minutes ago, but just as potent.
They drove through winding roads into a different part of town. Dale hadn’t realized before, but Greg lived close to him—perhaps an hour’s walk away. The apartments looked nicer than his own, their landscaping
