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Fiction Friday: It's Just a Vest

A/N: Hello! Since it’s Wrestlemania week, I thought I’d share an old wrestling slash fanfiction of mine for Fiction Friday. It’s PWP – Porn Without Plot / Plot? What Plot?, so don’t open on your computer at work. ?
 
The first part of this was written around early 2013, when I was actively writing fanfiction. At the time I was a big Dean fangirl and really into the Ambrollins – Dean Ambrose & Seth Rollins – ship. Part one was written as a prize for my good friend, Amanda. They gave me a song to set the writing mood – Depeche Mode’s I Feel You. It was a great choice and really helped build the scene in my head.
 
Part two was written as a response to Dean switching up his ring gear and sending his fans into a tizzy as a result. Other than combining into one doc and adding a few commas, this fic has not been changed from its original posting – so you can see a bit of what my earlier writing was like. I hope you enjoy!
 
****
 
Dean walked up the stairs to his third-floor apartment. The black flak jacket he carried in his hand was light, but it felt heavy. Heavy as the anger that pressed against the back of his eyes. He walked across the small apartment into his bedroom, following the sound of running water. The door to the bathroom was open, steam curling out to greet him in a thick mist. Dean yanked the shower curtain back. Seth shook the water from his face and looked over his shoulder at him.
 
“Where did you go?”
 
“Driving.”
 
Seth arched a dark eyebrow. “All night?”
 
“Yes, all fucking night.”
 
Seth turned his back to the water but he kept washing himself. Dean’s eyes followed Seth’s hand as they rubbed the bar of soap across his chest, down his belly, and to his sex. He stayed there, washing slowly, bubbles rising and tangling in the dark thatch of curls. His long fingers dipped lower to cup the heavy sack that hung between his legs, washing that area just as slowly. Dean lifted his eyes back to Seth’s. “You’re clean enough. Get out of the goddamn shower so we can talk about this.”
 
“Fine.”
 
But instead of turning around to face the shower head to rinse off, Seth arched his neck back, way back so that the water splashed into his face and ran down his chest and lower to rinse all the soap away. Dean turned his back on the display. He wasn’t going to let the delicious sight of a wet and naked Seth distract him.
Dean was sitting on the bed when Seth came out of the shower. He had a towel slung low around his hips, the golden tan of his skin a warm contrast to the stark white of the cotton. Dean threw the flak jacket at his feet, forcing him to stop. “I’m not wearing that.”
 
“Why not?”
 
“Because it’s a stupid fucking idea. The storyline is stupid, the jackets are stupid and I don’t want any part of it.”
 
“Then why didn’t you say something in the meeting?”
 
Dean narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t give me a chance. You ran off at the mouth, agreeing with every goddamn thing they said.”
 
Seth gave a careless shrug of his shoulders. “Just forget it man. The vest isn’t that big a deal.”
 
“It’s a big deal to me.”
 
Seth kicked the vest out of the way and walked to the dresser over by the window. “No, it’s not. But you want to make it a big deal because you think you’re a big deal.”
 
“What?”
 
“You heard me,” Seth said pulling a drawer open. “You’ve been buying into all that when is Dean Ambrose going to debut bullshit on the internet and now you think you should have some big introduction to McMahon’s Universe.”
 
Dean’s face flushed hot with anger and it got him back on his feet, propelling him across the room until he was just behind Seth. Grabbing his shoulder, he spun him around and slammed up against the wall next to the window. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”
 
“I said get over your fucking ego and take the opportunity. We’re going to be on RAW with the two highest profile Superstars. So what if you’re not in a solo feud?”
 
Seth was right. He had been expecting a big solo debut, but he didn’t like the way it made him come off when Seth said it out loud. So when Seth tried to push past him, he lashed out, slamming him into the wall again so violently that the window rattled.
 
Seth raised a brow at Dean’s actions. “Did I touch a nerve?”
 
Dean’s lip curled in disdain. “No. But I guess I can’t expect an empty-headed pretty boy like you to understand where I’m coming from.”
 
Now it was Seth’s turn to feel the heat of anger crawl up his neck onto his face. He pushed Dean back hard. “Get out of my face so I can get dressed.” He should have stayed calm. Because Dean immediately scented his anger and honed in on it, like a vicious dog after prey. Dean surged forward driving him back into the wall as their chests collided. His hand came up and gripped his hair so hard his scalp prickled with little pinpricks of pain as several strands were ripped free. Dean jerked his head back and when Seth heard the curtain rings rattle he realized Dean had a hold on the curtain as well.
 
“Oh. What’s this? Did I hurt your feelings, pretty boy?”
 
Seth narrowed his eyes against the pain as Dean’s hand tightened in his hair. “No. I’m just done with this bullshit conversation. Now move so I can get dressed.”
 
Dean’s expressive mouth curved in a sardonic smile. “You want to get dressed? Let me help you then.”
 
Seth sucked in a breath as Dean’s free hand softly brushed against his belly. He knew Dean was about to take off his towel, which normally he would have encouraged. But since Dean was being such an asshole, he didn’t want him to. Seth knocked his hand away. “Fuck off.”
 
Pushing away from the wall, he tried to twist out of Dean’s hold. But Dean held tight, yanking him around. The curtain was still tangled in Dean’s fist with his hair and it swung out wide from the wall while he fought to get free. As they battled, arms straining, fingers clawing, they became entwined in the curtain. Until with a low growl, Dean grabbed the dark material and ripped it free of the wall, letting go of his hair in the process. Sunshine flooded into the room washing over Dean. He stood there with his head canted low, his chest heaving as he stared at Seth. He tried not to be affected by that look. Or that voice as it came out soft and low, resonating with angry passion.
 
“Look what you made me do,” he said as he tossed the curtain to the floor.
 
Seth raised his chin, his heart racing. “Fuck you. I didn’t make you do anything.” He pulled off his towel, which miraculously had managed to stay knotted around his waist during their struggle. Their tussle had gotten his blood pumping, most of it flowing right down to his cock. He took a deep breath noting when Dean’s eyes dropped down to his erection. When they rose back to his, Seth slowly ran his tongue over his bottom lip. Then he tossed his hair back and turned to the dresser. But again, he was stopped before he could pull any clothes out. A firm hand closed over his wrist, another gripped his hip.
 
“You think you can make me forget about anything with this body of yours. You think you can get me to do whatever you want by showing me your beautiful cock. Is that it?”
 
Seth pushed his hips back against Dean, not at all surprised when he felt his hard erection nudging at his ass. “I don’t know. Can I?”
 
Dean hissed and pulled him away from the dresser over to the bed. He pushed him down and Seth allowed it, sprawling on his back across the comforter.
 
“Guess we’re about to find out,” Dean said as he knelt on the bed.
 
Seth smiled. “Take your clothes off.”
 
His mouth twisted in a smile of his own, Dean shook his head. “Nope. You do it, pretty boy.”
 
Seth sat up and reached for the hem of Dean’s dark t-shirt. He ripped it over his head roughly, purposely snagging a few strands of Dean’s hair as he did. Dean growled a warning but Seth just shrugged unapologetically. Then he pushed Dean onto his back and knelt at his side so that he could yank his shorts and boxers off. He might have accidentally on purpose scratched his nails down Dean’s legs in the process. But he didn’t stop. He pulled his shoes and socks off, throwing them across the room. Seth locked eyes with Dean. He wrapped his hand around his lover’s cock, pumping slowly. “Forget the vest.”
 
Dean didn’t acknowledge his statement. Instead he bent his arm back behind his head, his mouth pursed in a look of supreme arrogance. “Suck me.”
 
Seth lowered his head and took Dean’s hot, thick cock into his mouth.  He swirled his tongue around the broad head, making his lover shiver as he tickled the tip of his tongue against the sensitive underside. Seth sucked him fully, practically crawling over Dean’s lap as he did. The taste of Dean always made him yearn for more. He tasted spicy, full of heat and aggression. He wanted to lick him up, lick him all over until his mouth was filled with nothing but the taste of Dean’s skin.
 
Dean trailed a finger along his lips. Seth opened up and let him in, sucking both his cock and his finger at the same time. He knew what to expect when Dean pulled his finger free. His hand curved over his ass, smacking him once, making his cock pulse in reaction. His fingers slid in between his cheeks before one prodded against his entrance. Seth took his mouth from his lover, throwing his head back with a moan as that slick digit slipped inside him. But Dean didn’t penetrate him fully. He just stopped without saying anything. Seth looked at him in confusion, breathing hard, his cock aching.
 
“What…”
 
“Keep sucking, pretty boy.”
 
Seth narrowed his eyes at his lover but he did as he was told. He took Dean back into his mouth, sucking him furiously. He slid his lips up and down that hard shaft over and over again, licking across the slit to savor his pre-cum on his tongue. Finally, Dean pushed his finger all the way inside him, pumping it in and out in a speed to match the rhythm of his mouth. Seth moaned again, but this time he did it around Dean’s cock. He knew the vibrations of the sound would drive his lover crazy and they did. Dean yanked on his hair.
 
“Get up here and ride me.”
 
Seth knocked his hand aside and straddled his hips. He reached behind him to grasp Dean’s shaft and guide it to his entrance. “Stop pulling on my goddamn hair.”
 
Dean just smirked. “Afraid I’ll mess up your pretty locks, pretty boy?”
 
He started to ease his way down onto Dean’s cock, blowing out a breath as the broad head made it past his entrance. “No. It fucking hurts.”
 
“Well I wouldn’t want to hurt you, now would I?” Then Dean clamped his hands onto his hips and yanked him down hard.
 
Seth hissed at that aching burn at being entered so quickly. But he immediately started to move. He didn’t mind that sweet pain. By the third time he’d lowered himself onto Dean’s cock the hurt had already started to morph into intense drugging pleasure, every nerve ending inside him stimulated. Seth stroked his hands up Dean’s chest, resting a palm over his heart. Even with all of their bullshit arguments, he still loved the moody complex man beneath him. Dean knew his mind and he knew his. Dean, not this shit apartment, was his home. And that was why he hadn’t let Dean get in a word to say no to Creative’s suggestion.  
 
He kept going, riding the thick cock that stretched him so deliciously. He brought his hips down harder and faster, loving the tingle that sparked through him each time Dean’s shaft tapped that bundle of pleasure deep inside him. Seth looked at Dean, saw his eyes tight and narrow with tension, his bottom lip caught between his teeth. Seth smiled at him and bent down so that his hair fell in a curtain around them both. He kissed him lightly, telling him in a soft voice, “It’s just a vest.”
 
Dean lightly gripped his wrists. His eyes and his voice were full of emotion as he spoke. “Seth…”
 
Seth rose back up and slowed his rhythm thinking that this time Dean was going to say it. But instead he pulled him down to his chest again before rolling them over so that he was on top. He tangled his fingers in his hair gently this time and began thrusting inside him. He raised his knees and spread himself wide for Dean, letting him know without words that he was his to do with however he chose.
 
Dean looked into Seth’s eyes. The morning sunlight turned their dark brown into a beautiful gold. Golden as the gates of heaven that he knew he’d never be allowed to pass through. Not with all the shit he’d done. But that was okay. Right here with Seth, inside Seth, was his heaven. But he was an asshole. He knew what Seth wanted him to say. It was just … those words didn’t come easy to him. So even though he felt them, felt them with every breath he took, every breath Seth took, he didn’t say them. He just buried his face in the warm skin of Seth’s neck increasing the pace of his hips as he pushed into his lover. Seth’s nails scratched down his back, deep enough that he knew he’d drawn blood. But he didn’t say anything. He’d felt Seth’s disappointment at his silence and knew that pain was his penance.
 
To make up for it in whatever small way that he could, he reached down and fisted Seth’s cock. He stroked and squeezed him just the way he knew Seth liked as he continued to ride between his open thighs. Dean sucked on his neck lightly, pumping his hips and his hand faster and faster until Seth was trembling, his legs gripping his sides firmly, his channel fluttering and clenching on his cock. Dean sank into him deep and hard, striking his spot of bliss over and over.
 
Seth gasped, “I’m coming!”
 
Dean rested his lips against his lover’s ear to whisper, “You are. I feel you.” Dean reached for his hand, tangling their fingers together, squeezing tight. He deepened his strokes, fiercely pushing into his lover as he felt Seth’s tight ass gripping his cock as he came. His lover’s release spilled into his hand and he continued to pump him, spreading that hot silky liquid all along the throbbing shaft in his fist. Seth called his name in a needy questioning tone. Dean knew what he wanted. He wanted to feel the heat of his release deep inside him. He sped up his pace, thrusting into his lover fast, the friction of that tight ass on his cock drawing forth what Seth wanted. His belly clenched and he lost his rhythm, his hips jerking into Seth’s wildly as his balls drew up hard and he went rigid in that final sweet tension before release. Seth’s name was ripped from his throat in a guttural shout as his cock pulsed again and again, pouring everything he had, everything he was into the man who held his soul.
 
****
 
“This way we stay together.”
 
“What?”
 
“They wanted a trio for this. If you’d said no after I’d already said yes we would have been separated.  And there’s no way they would have accepted me changing my mind. They would have chosen someone else to call up for the group and they aren’t interested in bringing in any solo talent right now. I saw it in your face that you were about to say no and I couldn’t let you.”
 
Dean didn’t say anything. He just pulled Seth tighter against his body, wrapping his arms and a leg around his slender frame. They lay there entwined as the morning sunshine cast its warm loving glow over them both.  He looked at the window, noting the curtain rod hanging haphazardly from his earlier fury. At least there was more light in the room now. Seth always loved the light. He brushed his lips over Seth’s hair, now dried into silky curls. “You’re right. It’s just a vest.”
 
 
****

Several Months Later
 
Seth walked to the locker room he was sharing with Dean and Roman that night. Roman was off for the next hour or so doing a phone interview for a radio station. He pushed open the door, not surprised to hear Dean moving around in there. Dean didn’t really care for interviews or mixing with the rest of the roster so he was often in their locker room until it was time for the show.
 
When Seth saw Dean, he came to an abrupt halt. He was already in his Shield gear. Well, most of it. Black boots were laced up his ankles, the cargo pants tucked into them slightly loose but tight enough to show off his ass. But he didn’t have on the white t-shirt and vest he’d been wearing the past few weeks. Instead he had on a sleek, form-fitting black top. It outlined beautifully the hard muscles of his chest and the roughly elegant curve of his back.
 
“Where’s your vest?”
 
Dean turned and looked at him. “Gone. It served its purpose.” He arched a brow. “No complaints?”
 
Seth shook his head, practically struck dumb with how hot Dean looked in that shirt. Dean’s mouth curled up in a wicked grin like he knew what he was thinking. He crooked a finger at him. Seth obeyed, walking over to him like a moth drawn to a flame, knowing he would get burned but craving the heat anyway. When he reached Dean he stopped, taking in the subtle sheen of the material over Dean’s chest.
 
“Did I ever say thank you?”
 
Seth looked up at Dean. “For what?”
 
“For making sure I kept my mouth shut so I’d get this gig.”
 
Seth shook his head. “No, I don’t think you did.”
 
Dean smiled, his blue eyes sparkling. “How rude. Why do you even put up with me?”  
 
Seth shrugged, his gaze dropping again to that shirt.
 
Dean ran a hand over his stomach. “You like this?”
 
Seth looked at Dean again with a laugh. “Yeah. It’s better than pretty much all of your other fashion choices. But why the switch?”
 
“It’s hot wrestling in that fucking vest.”
 
“You’re sure this isn’t because you just have to find a way to be different?”
 
“Maybe.” His voice lowered, his hand moving up to rub over his chest. “You wanna touch it?” Without waiting for him to answer Dean grabbed his hand, pulling it just within reach of his body.
 
Seth resisted. He wasn’t touching him yet, but he could feel the heat from his body warming his fingertips. “I didn’t lock the door behind me,” he whispered.
 
“So?”
 
Seth swallowed hard. He knew Dean was challenging him and that he didn’t have to give in. But he did, just like he always did. Somehow Dean always got him to go along with what he wanted. He slid his fingers over his flat abs, the shirt silky to the touch. He continued up his torso until he reached the protective padding over his chest and pressed down. It was soft and he noted there was a slit there. He slipped his hand into the opening. “I’m assuming you’re not gonna carry a gun down to the ring. So, what are you gonna put in here?”
 
Dean snorted a laugh. “Cigarettes and Tootsie Rolls.”
 
Seth laughed and dropped to his knees ready to open Dean’s pants. But Dean crooked two fingers at him, signaling him to get up. Seth got back to his feet, slightly confused.
 
“I’m thanking you, remember?”
 
“Oh yeah.”
 
Dean slid his fingers into his hair pulling him in close for a kiss. When their lips met Seth welcomed the addictive taste of Dean in his mouth. But this kiss wasn’t like usual. Dean didn’t take control. Instead he darted his tongue against his with teasing licks then retreated, making Seth chase after him. Seth caught on quick. He wrapped his arms around the solid strength of Dean’s torso and stroked his hands up and down his back. His palms slid easily over the slick material of his new shirt. Dean turned in his arms so that his back was to him. Seth’s heart rate instantly shot up. He hadn’t been sure Dean was going to allow it, but now... His fingers were clumsy as he worked open Dean’s belt and pants.
 
“You nervous?”
 
“No.”
 
“You sure? I could write you a thank you card instead if that’d be better.” 
 
“Shit no! Just uh…”
 
“Eager?”
 
Seth cleared his throat, slightly embarrassed. “Yeah.”
 
Dean laughed softly, pushing his hand out of the way to get the zipper down and slide his pants and underwear down over his hips.  Seth’s gaze was immediately caught by the firmness of his ass and his strong thighs. Dean was lighter than him. But with his tan, his skin had a warm glow that held his attention and made him reach out to touch. Dean had stopped shaving since they wrestled in pants every night. The light dusting of hair on his thighs was soft to the touch as he ran his fingers over them.
 
Dean looked at him over his shoulder. “Seth?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“You might want to get some lube or something. It’s been awhile since I’ve done this. I might be kinda tight.”   
 
Seth groaned. He hurriedly dug through a bag until he came up with some baby oil. He unzipped his pants and poured some of the oil over his shaft. But before he went any further he looked back over his shoulder. “I really should go lock that door.”
 
Dean shook his head. “Now or never, Seth.”
 
Seth cursed and pushed slowly into Dean. His heart pounded harder and harder with every inch that slipped into Dean’s tight ass. When he was all the way in, he dropped his forehead onto his lover’s shoulder. Dean didn’t let him do this often which made it all the better. He was so hot, his ass gripping his cock so tight he was ready to lose it already. But he didn’t. He held on because he wanted to savor it. To fuck Dean good, not blow his load in the first minute like a pimpled teen with his first shot at pussy. But Dean braced his hands on the locker in front of him and pushed back hard against him.
 
“Have I ever given you any reason to think I’m a patient man?”
 
Seth groaned a curse but he took the hint. He pulled back then thrust back inside Dean hard, making their bodies slam together. Dean looked at him over his shoulder.
 
“That’s it, Seth, fuck me like you mean it. Like I know you’ve been wanting to do. Cuz you never know when or if I’ll let you fuck me again.”
 
Seth’s curse was much harsher that time. He loved the way Dean took him nearly every night. Fucking him from behind in the showers at arenas. While he was on his back in a hotel bed. Or in his lap in the back of a rental car. Seth loved all of it. But Dean was right. There was always a part of him that wanted the chance to be inside Dean. And now that he was, he planned to take full advantage of it.
 
He started to grip Dean by his hips to hold him steady as he stroked into him with a furious pace. But he changed his mind and slid his hands back up Dean’s torso and gripped that slick new shirt in his fists. He pulled Dean close against him, holding on tight to the soft material. Seth heard Dean’s husky laugh and his encouraging whispers. Dean reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked hard. Seth just barely kept from shouting. It hurt, but it also made him wild.
 
He licked up Dean’s neck until he reached his ear. He bit down hard, holding the flesh in his mouth, his breath harshly blowing against Dean’s skin as he fucked him hard and fast. Their bodies slapped together, Dean rocking back and forth from the strength of his thrusts until Seth pressed him up against the locker to hold him still. But Dean pushed back, putting some space between the locker and his front.
 
“Don’t be selfish, Seth. I need to get myself off.”
 
Seth watched Dean’s arm moving as he gripped his cock and jacked himself off. He let go of Dean’s ear but kept his grip on the shirt. He was sweaty and his skin tingled and the smell of sex filled the locker room. His balls were throbbing, the hold Dean’s ass had on his cock just as tight as the one Dean still had on his hair.  As much as he wanted to make this last he couldn’t. His cock was pulsing with the urge to come, the feeling rising in him with every thrust into the deliciously snug heat that gripped him so well. And he hadn’t locked that door. Someone could open it at any moment. The risk they were taking gave him a dangerous thrill. Dean had known he wouldn’t be able to resist it.
 
He put his mouth back on Dean and bit him on the shoulder, tasting the fibers of the shirt on his tongue. Dean cursed, his hips jerking back against him. He was coming, his ass clenching and squeezing Seth’s cock. And Seth went with him. He pushed in hard and let go. His orgasm shot up from the heavy weight of his balls, making his cock pulse again and again as he emptied deep into his lover. Seth tried to stay quiet, tried to muffle his groan against the hard muscle and soft shirt still in his mouth. He didn’t know if he was successful. And he didn’t care.
 
When Seth was done, he collapsed against Dean, his mind blank to everything but the pounding of his heart and the way Dean’s ass was still clenching on his shaft. He suspected Dean was doing it on purpose. He eased some of his weight off of him but didn’t pull out just yet. Dean again craned his neck to look over his shoulder. His face was flushed and sweaty but his eyes still had that teasing gleam, only slightly hidden by the hair falling over them.
 
“Thank you, Seth,” Dean said with a smile.
 
“Jesus fucking Christ.” Seth had forgotten the reason this had all started. “You’re welcome.”
 
The End

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this look back to my fanfic days. If you'd like to read my published original fiction wrestling romances, Showing Him the Ropes and In His Corner are on sale for .99 each. Happy Wrestlemania!

Love,
Christa
www.ChristaTomlinson.Com
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Alpha's Desire Chapter 3

Chapter Three

The day after his heat ended, Rashan returned to his regular schedule. He got up early, hit the gym, and had breakfast. The 29th had patrols today and he was glad for the chance to get back to work. Rashan turned on the radio, listening to the universal news report as he got dressed. Midway through the broadcast, an ad for an intergalactic dating service came on. As he drew on the close-fitting black tank and square cut black briefs he wore beneath his space suit, he found himself wondering how other people saw his body.

Stepping up to the mirror, Rashan looked over his bronze skin, flat stomach, and slim thighs. They were nice he supposed. And he’d never noticed anyone eyeing him with disgust. He usually only took notice of his appearance to make sure he was neat and presentable for work. But today he was curious if people saw him as attractive.
Annoyed at himself, Rashan shrugged and turned away from the mirror. It didn’t matter whether they did or not. He’d only had the stupid thought because he was no longer on his heavily restrictive suppressants.

He took his flight suit from the closet and stepped into it. Although the material appeared thin, it was constructed from titanium infused webbing strong enough to deflect blaster rays. And it was triple weaved over his torso for extra protection. The suit was all black, except for the glowing blue Z.E.A.F logo over the left breast and blue stripe down the length of the sleeves. Rashan tucked his identification tags inside his suit, then reached behind him to grab the zipper pull and zip it up to where the suit ended beneath the nape of his neck.

His black boots were next. They fit snugly, stopping at the knees, with thick soles fitted with mini propulsion packs to help him maneuver on planets with low gravity. Last, he strapped on his blasters, holstering one on each thigh.

Once he was geared up, Rashan grabbed his helmet, turned off the radio, and left his quarters, the door sliding shut and automatically locking behind him. The halls were busy and bustling with crew members reporting to their morning shifts, some perky and awake, others bleary eyed and grimly holding on to cups of coffee. Just before he reached the briefing room, he ran into Layla.

“Hey.” She greeted Rashan with a warm smile. “You look like you need a hug.”

Rashan wasn’t usually a hugger, but he surprised himself by saying yes instead of politely refusing. “I do actually.” Layla leaned in to hug him, the comforting scent of a fellow omega wrapping around him as securely as the hold she had on his waist. It was different than Tony’s scent, homey and sweet, and it helped him relax, leeching away the tension he hadn’t realized he carried in his neck and shoulders.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” She squeezed him once more then stepped back. “I hear we’re going planet side today,” she said as they started walking together. “You know what that means.”
Rashan grinned. “We get to transform.”

“Yes!” She jumped up and pumped her fists, the glitter in her pink braided cornrows sparkling with her movement.

Whenever they were planet side, they converted their mechs from jets to biomorph robots in order to easily maneuver on the ground. They transformed while in space too, but it was usually only during big battles.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Rashan said. “I need to work my muscles.” Piloting the jets took skill but controlling the biomorphs was on another level. It was taxing both mentally and physically. But no matter how difficult it could sometimes be, they were always excited for it. Piloting giant robots was just plain fun.

He and Layla tapped their helmets together before parting ways to enter the briefing room. Layla went to sit in the back, while Rashan headed to the first row to sit with Tony.

Commander Lee stood at the front of the room. She was a petite Chinese American omega, with long brown hair worn in a thick braid over her left shoulder. Her sharply pressed, navy blue Z.E.A.F uniform worn with black leather gloves gave her a decidedly stern air. But she directed her division of the Marion with such genuine kindness that Rashan — and probably everyone else on the flight crews — would choose to throw themselves face first into a star going super nova rather than let her down.

Commander Lee started the meeting by holding up a hand for quiet.

“Good morning, everyone. Today Lieutenant Jemison’s squad will be going planet side on Chalon.” The screen behind her displayed a tiny, orange planet. Two clicks of the remote she held and it zoomed in past the atmosphere, focusing on a hilly area, shrouded in blue mist. “We’ve received reports that a large number of Varnos rebels have set up camp in the hill region there, and are using it as a base to harass Zareen-Earth ships and space stations. As always, we are working on the assumption that they are not sanctioned by the Varnos Federation.”

Snorts of amused doubt sounded in the room. The Varnos Federation was a large, powerful collective of races, planets, and civilizations, united under the banner of planet Varnos. They’d been engaged in a space race with the Zareen, another large empire for hundreds of years. That race had intensified when the people of Earth joined with the Zareen, led by Beals Corp.

It took time for humans to close the gap in technology but they made up for the lack with a thirst for exploration. The addition of new players to the space race game set off two wars between the Varnos Federation and the newly formed Zareen Earth Alliance. The second ended in a truce, with a set of accords designating which star systems each force could claim, and how to handle newly discovered systems.

For the most part, things were calm between the two galactic powers. But occasionally small skirmishes and conflicts occurred in areas where Zareen and Varnos co-existed in close quarters. The real problem lay with the Varnos rebels who refused to accept the truce. Officially, the Varnos Federation disavowed the rebels. Unofficially, they did nothing to stop them.

Commander Lee acknowledged her crews’ doubts that the Federation didn’t sanction the rebels with a small smile before moving on. “However. Intelligence tells us that galaxy wide, the rebels’ activity and numbers are all increasing, and their weaponry is improving. Which means we must be cognizant of the fact that the Varnos might be funding them in preparation for officially sanctioned military action in the near future. For now, the Guion Accords are still in effect and we do not want another war. Please use the lowest force necessary when apprehending the rebels on Chalon. Any questions?”

No one raised any, so Commander Lee smiled again and clicked off the screen.

“Good. Kick ass and be safe. Dismissed.”

Rashan and the rest of the 29th left to begin their patrol. He walked next to Tony on their way down to the flight deck.

“You ready to get to work?” Tony asked.

“You know it.”

Tony raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

In answer, Tony’s glance moved to Rashan’s hair.

Rashan raised a hand to his head. His fingers sank into the mass of curls down around his shoulders. “Shit. I forgot to put it up again.”

Tony laughed and held his hand up. There was a black hair band around his wrist.

Rashan shook his head in amusement. He often forgot to put his hair up, while Tony always remembered to bring him a hair tie. “How many of these do you have?” He took hold of Tony’s hand to tug the band off his wrist. Neither of them had their gloves on yet and Rashan noticed how warm Tony’s fingers were. Rashan blinked. He’d never noticed that before.

“I may have bought a package of them from the ship’s store,” Tony answered.

“I bet you didn’t realize being friends with me meant you’d have to help me keep my hair contained,” Rashan joked. He quickly twisted his thick, curly hair into a braid, securing the end with the band Tony had brought for him. It would be easier to stuff his hair under his helmet with it confined in a braid. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tony tucked a strand of hair he’d missed behind his ear. As Tony’s fingers brushed over his skin, an odd tingling warmed him all over. Rashan blinked again, but otherwise kept his reaction to himself. That was weird. They touched and embraced all the time. So why did Tony’s touch feel different today? And why was he noticing things like the warmth of his hands and the way his close-cut beard was the perfect frame for his full lips? And also how big Tony was, not just tall, but alpha big. And hard and—. Rashan sucked in a sharp breath at the bewildering path his thoughts had taken and ended up choking on air.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I uh... swallowed wrong.”

Tony accepted his excuse with a shrug and turned to speak with Waylan as they went down the ramp.
When they reached the flight deck, Rashan looked over his jet. Each one was painted specifically as the pilot had requested. His was a bright, metallic-royal blue with silver and white racing stripes down the sides of the body, and along the front of the wings. In the next bay over, Tony’s was painted a deep, glossy black except for the gold underbelly, and the gold and aqua accents on the wing tips.

Rashan put on his helmet and climbed up into the cockpit. He methodically went through the pre-flight check and started powering up the jet. Switches were flipped, monitors glowed to life, and the dash lit up. As always, he grinned at the first powerful burst from the engines. He loved being a pilot. Loved everything about flying this amazing machine out in the vastness of space.

As his canopy closed over him, he looked to his left at Tony. The other pilot gave him a thumbs up. Rashan returned the gesture with easy familiarity, having already moved on from the weirdness he’d had during their walk down to the flight deck. He rolled forward to taxi onto the runway track, waiting for his signal officer to give him the go-ahead.

“You are clear for takeoff, Officer Grove.”

Rashan pushed up on the accelerator. The craft moved forward, steadily gaining speed, until with a belly-lifting whoosh he was through the space lock shield and out in the inky black of space. One by one the rest of the squad flew out too. As they started to come over the comm lines, Rashan tensed, expecting to be teased about missing the previous patrol due to his heat. He knew he shouldn’t be embarrassed about something so natural, but he was. However, no one said anything. The conversation went from bets on the combat games on planet Min to bitching over the menu choices that week. But there wasn’t a word said about his heat. By the time Sasha cut into their chit-chat to get them focused on the mission, Rashan had relaxed.

After about thirty minutes of flight time, they reached Chalon. JJ hung back to orbit the planet on lookout, while the rest of the team descended to the ground. Rashan turned on his cockpit’s reflective shield to cut back on the glare as they entered the atmosphere. Once he broke through the cloud cover, he started the transformation process.

Gears whirred as components rearranged themselves from jet to biomorph. The cockpit’s interior changed too. Rashan stood as his pilot’s seat unfolded, converting into the frame of a mechanized skeleton. He slid his hands into the gloves at the end of the mech-frame’s arms and fit his feet on top of the foot pedals. The magnetized plates locked his boots into place, and straps went around his forearms and calves, securing the metal skeleton to his body. The mech-frame now controlled the robot’s movements by echoing Rashan’s, while the instrument panel still controlled everything else. The transformation complete, he put on his reverse thrusters, slowing down to land on both feet with a ground shaking boom.

A little kid on the sidewalk stared up at him in awe, the frozen treat in his hand dripping orange rivulets down his purple-skinned arm. Rashan grinned, saluting the kid. The child smiled and enthusiastically waved back with his other three arms.

Rashan swung his legs and arms as if he were walking, sending the mech forward. He didn’t have to strain, but it did take strength to power the mech’s limbs. He observed the town as he walked down the center of the street. All appeared quiet, and no one looked aggressive or suspicious. But he didn’t expect the Varnos rebels to be out in the open, villainously twirling their mustaches.

When he hit the edge of the city, he looked up into the heavily forested hills. It was the perfect landscape for hideouts. The Chalons were a peaceful people, they wouldn’t have the necessary equipment to flush the rebels out on their own.

The ground shook again as the rest of the team joined Rashan, each of them coming from a different direction in town. The six pilots lined up, mech to mech.

“Remember. We negotiate first,” Lieutenant Jemison said over the communication link. “If they refuse to come out, we go in. If they aggress, we respond in kind. Grove, Wilson you’re with me. Alvarez and Rogers, you’re my pincers. Zahir, I want you up in the air observing on stealth mode. Move out.”

They moved into their positions, Terrell taking off to fly overhead, Tony and Waylan skirting the sides of the hills to block any potential escape routes, and Rashan, Layla and Sasha approaching the site head on. At the base of the hill, Sasha got on her mech’s PA system. Her voice boomed out over the area. Anyone within a two-mile radius would hear her.

“Attention citizens of Varnos. This is Lieutenant Jemison of the Zareen Earth Alliance Force. You are in violation of the Guion Accords. Come out unarmed with your hands above your head.”

While she spoke, Rashan stood by her side, his mech’s head slowly turning from side to side as he scanned the landscape. His thermal imaging radar easily picked out the rebels’ hideout. There were multiple subjects clustered together directly in front of them. A smaller group was to the main structure’s right. He hadn’t spotted them yet but he was sure there were lookouts posted as well. Rashan quietly relayed the recon information over the comms.

They waited to see if the rebels would obey Sasha’s directive. The wind blew, rustling the thick white leaves, and clearing away some of the mist but there was no other visible movement on the hillside. Thanks to his radar, Rashan could see the rebels moving within their hideout. It didn’t look like they were preparing to surrender. In fact, they were picking up blasters and rushing for the hideout’s exit. He called out a warning. “Lieutenant, they’re on the move.”

“I see them.”

Multiple bursts of laser fire came from the hills. The shots hit his mech with metallic plinks but weren’t able to penetrate his armor. Rashan raised his arm, his mech following suit. He squeezed the munitions trigger, and blue lasers shot out from the gun ports mounted on his wrist. Rashan wasn’t aiming to kill. Instead, he hit the ground below the encampment, which sent up a cloud of dust and debris, obscuring the rebels’ vision. The shots continued but now most of them were wildly out of range. Except for the shots coming from two separate directions, hitting Rashan with unerring accuracy. They had to be from the lookouts he’d been unable to locate in his initial scan.

Activating his shield, Rashan prepared to move in and find the lookouts. However, before he reached the base of the hill, a capture net dropped from the sky from seemingly out of nowhere, falling into the trees. Another dropped further back and to the left. The accurate shots immediately stopped. Terrell’s quiet voice came over the comm link.

“Snipers have been neutralized.”

Now they only had to take out the main force. Layla was their ace in the hole for a mission like this, when they wanted to avoid extreme force. Her mech was fitted with a device that knocked out the power on enemy weapons but she had to be within close range to use it.

“You ready to finish this, Wilson?”

“Let’s do it.”

They moved together, Rashan giving her the cover she needed to get into position. They stopped when they were right below the encampment. A silent black wave of energy flowed out from Layla’s mech, displacing the air in its path. Seconds later, confused shouts rose as the rebels realized their weapons no longer worked. Rashan grinned as he confidently strode into the clearing in front of the rebel hideout. He got on his PA system, but he wasn’t nearly as polite and diplomatic as Sasha when he issued his orders.

“Do like my lieutenant said and come out with your hands up.” He gave his gun ports just enough juice to make them glow and hum with power, letting the rebels know what would happen if they didn’t obey. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

This time the Varnos walked out of the hideout with their hands raised above their heads. They wore hooded red uniforms and clear face masks. Although the Varnos were a military society, their people were known throughout the galaxy for their beauty. Scars were frowned upon, and the masks were to protect their faces from the possibility of being marred in a fight.

Most of the rebels stood silently in surrender, but a few chose to make a break for it and run. Rashan let them go. They wouldn’t get far. Back in visibility mode, Terrell streaked overhead as Rashan and Layla escorted the Varnos rebels off the hillside. As expected, Tony had caught the few who’d tried to run. He towed them behind him in a floating capture net.

“Grove, get me a casualty report,” Sasha ordered once they reached the base of the hill.

Rashan did another scan. “No fatalities. Four injuries. All rebels captured.”

“Excellent. JJ, maintain your position. Terrell and Waylan, convert and get the rebels loaded in your holds. Tony assist them. Rashan and Layla go back up to inspect their campsite, and gather anything relevant to their operation while I speak with the town authorities.”

Everyone responded in the affirmative. “Roger that.”

The squad moved quickly and efficiently, getting the new prisoners loaded, and collecting weapons samples and plans for future attacks. Within two hours, they were flying back to the Marion, relaxed and celebrating their successful mission.

Commander Lee was waiting for them on the flight deck when they returned. She watched while they transferred the prisoners and weapons to the ship’s police before approaching.

“Good work out there. I know your shift is over, but we’ve got a staff meeting in the auditorium in five. All flight crew are required to attend.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

There was no time to gear down, so the squad made their way to the auditorium, boots loud in the hall, drowning out the motorized whirring of Sasha’s chair. When they reached the auditorium, they had to split up to take the few seats remaining in the large room. Captain McNair, a barrel-chested alpha with light-brown skin, and a salt and pepper beard, stood at the front next to the podium, silently eyeing the crew members as they trooped in. Once everyone was seated, the room deep-space quiet, the captain began.

“We’ve received a request to escort a group of settlers who plan to colonize an uninhabited planet.” Captain McNair clicked the remote in his hand and a picture of the Guion Galaxy came up on the screen behind him. “Here on the as of yet unnamed, Far Planet Four or FP-4.” He clicked again and the screen zoomed in on a large planet. It appeared to be just shy of giant status. Thick gray clouds swirled over the planet, obscuring most of it from view.

“Hell, that’s way out on the edge of the galaxy,” JJ said in surprise.

Rashan added his own observation. “That’s in a Zareen-Earth controlled quadrant but we don’t patrol that far.”

“No, we do not,” the captain agreed.

Tony asked a question. “That planet hasn’t been cleared for human colonization, has it?”

Captain McNair paused, before answering in a way that made it obvious he was carefully choosing his words.
“The atmosphere, water and vegetation have tested safe for humans. A biodome won’t be necessary.”
Rashan looked around the room to see if the rest of the crew picked up on the captain’s evasiveness. Going by their doubting expressions, they definitely had. “That doesn’t mean the planet is habitable, Captain.”

“Beals Corp Universal has made a generous offer for those willing to go to this planet. The trip will take approximately two months. One-month travel there, a week to stand guard while they build their encampment, then back to the Marion. The return trip should be faster without the weight of the cargo on the shuttle. Hazard pay and a hefty bonus have also been allocated for the pilots and crew who take on the mission. The escort calls for a cargo ship pilot and crew, five infantry soldiers, and two Screamer pilots.”

Rashan crossed his arms over his chest. “A billion galaxy credits aren’t worth it if you end up eaten by some alien swamp monster, or your skin rots off from aggressive bacteria or—.”

“Your objections have been noted, pilot,” Captain McNair interrupted. “We have a month before we dock on Terwood and pick up the group. Take your time, review the report and decide if you’d like to be a part of this operation. Contact me directly if you choose to sign up. That is all. Dismissed.”

The screen went dark and the captain strode from the room.

Rashan rose from his seat. He made his way to the front of the room, shaking his head as he looked over the report on his data pad. “Those people are foolish to take the risk of colonizing that planet. The information provided on it is so minimal it’s a joke. And once the escort is gone, they’ll be out of reach of immediate help if something goes wrong.”

Waylan shrugged. “Yeah, but if everything goes right, they get the glory that goes along with settling a planet, as well as first dibs on all the planet’s resources.”

Rashan looked up at Tony. “What do you think?”

“I understand why some would take the risk. Sometimes it’s the only way to get an opportunity in this universe. Or maybe they’re desperate to get away from a life they’re unhappy with.”

Rashan sobered as he thought of his own secret history escaping a desperate situation. “But you won’t sign up for it, will you?”

Tony smiled and shook his head. “No.”

“Good.”

Waylan snorted. “Stars know you two are joined at the hip. The only way Tony would take that mission is if you went with him.”

“Then I don’t have to worry about it because I know I’m not putting my name down to lead people on such a ridiculous quest.” As far as Rashan was concerned, that ended the conversation permanently for him. FP-4 was someone else’s problem.

****

Two weeks after the Chalon mission, the crew aboard the Marion buzzed with energy. It was team building day, or as the crew jokingly called it — Field Day. The months aboard the space ship, far away from home, could be tough. It was one reason personal relationships were allowed in the force. The Alliance wanted their crews to have personal attachments, as it helped them to be comfortable with the long periods away from their home planets. Also, it was difficult for mated pairs to be separated for an extended length of time, especially newly mated pairs. Bonding with someone on the same ship solved that problem.

The quarterly team building days were contrived in order to give the Alliance galaxy ship crews a chance to relax and have fun. Everybody grumbled that they had to give up a day off doing team exercises instead of relaxing on their own, but they really did enjoy them.

This field day, the 29th had played an intense game of Low-G dodgeball against the team from the bridge. They played in the chamber where they usually did Zero-G training. Today the gravity was set to low rather than zero, which allowed them to bounce and jump high without floating completely off the floor. However, the balls they used were specially weighted so that they could still be thrown with force. It was brilliant game, designed a decade ago by two Beals employees after a company picnic, where they’d drunkenly tried to play dodgeball in a zero chamber.

Terrell chose to serve as the coach, his way of showing up as required with as little involvement as possible. Knowing some of his history, the rest of the 29th understood his reluctance and didn’t hold it against him. Sasha played, leaving her wheelchair outside the chamber. Her disability didn’t prevent her from using her legs, but because of the long distances on the ship, she preferred to use her wheelchair more often than not. In Low-G, however, her mobility wasn’t a factor. With her natural athleticism, she was a beast at taking the opposing players out. Thanks to her vicious throws, Rashan’s agile flips and dodges, and Tony’s blocks, they’d handily defeated the bridge crew team.

Now, the game was over but Rashan and Waylan started their own round of one-on-one dodgeball. It consisted of them flinging the same ball back and forth at each other as hard as they could, until one of them was hit out. Tony only had eyes for Rashan, smiling at his antics dodging the ball while egging on Waylan.

“Come on you big, slow alpha. You don’t want to be embarrassed when an omega beats you, do you? I know how fragile your alpha egos are.”

Waylan growled and renewed his attack, which Rashan quickly dodged.

Tony looked away from his friend when Sasha nudged him to get his attention.

“Why don’t you tell him?”

Tony took a gulp of his sports drink. “Tell who what?” he asked, pretending he didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Really?” she asked with a good bit of side eye.

Tony grinned and stopped teasing her. “It doesn’t seem like the right time.”

“It hasn’t been the right time going on ten years now.”

“You know how he is about alphas. And he was just forced off his suppressants. I don’t want to throw talk of mating at him while he’s still adjusting. When he’s ready I’ll say something. Court him.”

“You’re not worried you’ll catch someone else’s scent and fall for them instead?”

“No.” Like most alphas, he’d fallen hard for his chosen mate. He wouldn’t waver unless he was one hundred percent certain he didn’t have a chance for a relationship with Rashan. “No,” he repeated firmly. “He’s everything I want.”

“Wow.”
Heat crawled up the back of his neck as Sasha raised her eyebrows at his unexpected candor.

“And if someone else approaches him while you’re waiting?”

Tony’s grip tightened on the bottle he held, and his scent changed, becoming powerful and aggressive. A growl tried to rumble up from his chest but he swallowed it back. “I will do my best to win him first if that happens.” He tried to speak as calmly as possible but a hint of the alpha growl snuck into his voice.

“Wow,” Sasha said again. “It’s not often you go into aggressive alpha mode.”

“Couldn’t help it,” Tony said with a purposely casual shrug. He started to change the subject but Rashan and Waylan came over first.

“You guys ready to go and eat?” Waylan asked.

Tony stood and tossed the now empty bottle in the waste unit. “Yeah, I’m starving.” He slung an arm around Rashan’s shoulders as they left the gravity chamber. They headed to the mess hall, which today served foods they didn’t ordinarily get. All of the meat and vegetables were real and fresh instead of simulated or freeze dried. They had meals and desserts from nearly major every region on Earth, as well as a few Zareen dishes. However, supplies were limited and each crew member was only allowed one serving.

Rashan chose a plate of sapasui and coconut bread, a Samoan stir fry dish the staff had started making when he’d come aboard two years ago. Tony got a cheeseburger with all the fixings, and a basket of fries. They both got milkshakes, then went to sit down at a table in the back of the hall with the rest of the 29th, and a few crew members from the flight deck. A comfortable silence fell between the two of them as they ate. A few minutes into their meal, Rashan slowly slid his hand across the table and snuck a fry off his plate.

“Hey. Hands off my fries.”

“Come on,” Rashan looked at him with wide, imploring eyes. “Best friends share fries.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony grumbled as if he were upset. But he nudged his plate closer to Rashan so they could share.
Tony had finished his burger and was savoring his milkshake when a group of crew members came up to their table.

“Hey, Tony,” one of the officers said with a bright smile. “The official team building stuff is over, but we’re going to hang out some more. A few of us are going to the lounge for card games, while everyone else is going to watch a movie.”

“You and Rashan should join one of our groups.”

Boyd, the stunningly handsome weapons systems operator, tossed his long black hair over his shoulder. “Yeah, come play cards. You owe me a chance to win some of my credits back from the last time we played together,” the beta said flirtatiously.

Tony smiled at them all. “Thanks for the invite guys. I’ll think about what kind of trouble I want to get into while I finish my dessert.” He nodded at his half-full milkshake.

“All right, hope to see you later,” the first officer waved and set off for the next table with the rest of the group.

Boyd playfully pouted that Tony didn’t give him a firm answer before leaving to join them. Once they were gone, Tony turned back to Rashan. The young omega eyed him as if he were figuring something out.

“What’s up?” Tony asked.

Rashan glanced at the retreating officers then back at Tony. “I get why you’re so popular now. Before I thought it was only because you’re so nice. But now I see it’s also because you’re hot.”

Tony choked on his milkshake. “What?” he gasped out. That was the last thing he’d expected Rashan to say.

“You’re good looking. But not cute.” He tilted his head to the side and studied Tony with narrowed eyes. “Sexy is the word for you.”

“You think I’m sexy.” He said it slowly. Not quite a question, more trying to understand where this was all coming from.

“Sure. When I was on suppressants, I never thought of stuff like that. Now I’m starting to pick up on it.” Rashan shrugged and snagged another fry, popping it into his mouth. “But it’s only an observation. Sexy or not, I’m still going to steal your fries.”

“Steal away,” Tony said faintly. He understood what Rashan meant. On suppressants, Rashan hadn’t experienced, or apparently even thought about physical attraction. Off suppressants, he was experiencing an extremely late sexual awakening. Tony supposed things were off to a good start, since Rashan thought he was sexy. “Okay. I’m sexy and you’re a fry thief. What do you want to do for the rest of the evening, fry thief?”
Rashan sipped on his shake for a few moments. “Let’s watch a movie,” he finally said.

They went off to join the bigger group in the theatre. Tonight, they were playing a big budget action film, starring Eagan Featherstone.

In the theater, they chose seats in the middle. Thirty minutes in, Rashan leaned over and put his head on Tony’s shoulder. It wasn’t a surprise, they often sat this way on their movie nights. Tony smiled down at his friend and resumed watching the movie.

As the movie played, Rashan’s weight shifted, becoming heavier. He’d fallen asleep. Tony loved that Rashan trusted him enough to fall asleep nearly in his arms. Tony adjusted his position, resting his arm along the seat back so Rashan could curl in closer. He inhaled lightly, subtlety scenting Rashan. He loved his scent. It was wild and sweet, like honey, and a gentle breeze blowing over an unspoiled meadow. Tony rumbled once in contentment, then watched the last thirty minutes of the movie with a warm, sleeping omega laying on his chest.

When the credits started to roll, the lights went up, and Rashan stirred at the brightened room. Tony swallowed his disappointment when Rashan came fully awake and moved away.

“I fell asleep on you again. Sorry about that,” he said with a sheepish smile.

“I’ve told you before I don’t mind,” Tony assured him.

They rose to walk back to their residence wing. The halls were quiet and nearly deserted. Along the way, they passed a couple oblivious to everyone else, leaning against the wall in a darkened corner, cuddling and kissing. The sight of the alpha holding his omega protectively close stirred something within Tony, prompting him to nudge Rashan with his elbow. “You think you’ll ever want that?” he asked with a nod toward the couple.

Rashan looked at them then rolled his eyes. “Not a chance.”

“Why not?”

“Tie myself to an alpha? Preening and showing off a mating bite? No thanks. I’d rather stay on my own. I’ll be the old, retired pilot who spends all his time in galaxy bars telling overly embellished stories about my career as a Screamer pilot.”

“That sounds kind of lonely.”

Rashan shrugged. “What about you? Do you want a mate, a sweet, cuddly omega to hold on to at night?”

Tony thought back to a few minutes ago with Rashan cozily nestled against his chest. “Yeah. I do, actually.”

“Oh.” Rashan stopped in the middle of the hall and stared up at Tony.

Tony stopped too. “That surprises you?” he asked as he leaned against the window, propping one foot up on the glass behind him.

“I guess I never thought of you mated up. So then, why haven’t you?”

“Maybe I’m waiting for the right guy.” The words hung between them while Tony silently watched his friend, hoping... A frown touched Rashan’s brow and he looked away, staring out into the black space behind Tony.

He was beautiful, the line of his jaw so sharp and defined it looked as if it had been cut by a diamond blade. His mouth was soft, the top lip arcing in a vulnerable curve, the bottom so pink and lush Tony ached to gently suck it into his mouth. He would give anything to taste Rashan’s sweetness. Tony started to reach for his hand, ready to declare his feelings and intentions. But Rashan looked back at him with a bright grin.

“Well, you’ve got a few galaxies worth of guys to choose from.”

He glanced down for a moment, a few thick strands of hair falling over his shoulder. Tony wanted to push that curly black hair back behind his ear. Or better yet, tangle his fingers in it as he brought Rashan close for a kiss. His hand twitched but he kept it by his side.

Looking back up, Rashan continued. “But when you do mate, whoever you choose better understand that I’ll always be in your life.”

“Of course, you will,” Tony agreed with a nod.

Rashan took a step back. “Good night, Tony. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Rashan.” Tony stayed in his spot against the window and watched his omega friend walk away. Rashan wasn’t ready for talk of courting and mating. Soon. But not yet.
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Alpha's Desire Chapter 2

Hello and Happy Friday! This week I have chapter two from Alpha's Desire. It's NSFW, so don't leave it up on your work computer while you go on break. ;-)
CHAPTER 2

Rashan went straight back to his room, not speaking to anyone he passed along the way. The odd tension that had cropped up during the scent marking surprised him. When he'd asked Tony to help him out, he'd thought his friend would mark him as a relative would, with a quick hug and cheerful rubbing of his throat over Rashan's head. He hadn't expected Tony to mark him in the way of a lover, using lips and tongue pressed against his scent glands. If Tony hadn't done that, he never would have thought to ask him to mark that spot at the base of his spine. But an unfamiliar urge had prompted him to do so, and the request popped out of his mouth before he realized what he was saying.

Tony becoming aroused and his eyes going silver was another surprise. Rashan hadn't ever been involved with anyone so he had no frame of reference for what was normal. Maybe that was just the way alphas reacted to any omega in heat that they got too close too. His was obviously coming soon. He could smell the scent of it wafting off him, and it was growing stronger by the second.

When he arrived at his room, he grabbed his data pad, swiped to the 29th Star Squadron schedule, and marked himself unavailable for patrol. The notification would go to their flight commander, and she would put an alternate in his customary position on patrol. It was a simple system for omegas and their partners to schedule time off during a heat. Rashan had never needed to use it himself. He was slightly embarrassed using it now, but there was nothing he could do about it.

With that small but necessary task out of the way, Rashan started to settle down on the bed. He immediately jumped back up as another task came to him. He was going to need food and water but all he had in his room was a few bottles of water and some pretzels. That wouldn't get him through the next several days. Damnit. He had no experience with this.
Grabbing his credits card, he left his room again and started to head to the commissary for a few snacks. He was halfway down the hall when someone called his name, making him stop and turn around. A member of the cafeteria staff stood outside his doorway, waving to get his attention. Rashan went back down the hall. "Hey, what's up?"

"This was ordered for you," the staff member said as he opened the lid of a white box sitting on his delivery cart.

Rashan looked inside. It was a cooler full of electrolyte drinks, a small selection of water-based fruit, packs of protein nuts and meats, cheese, and his favorite chocolate. "Who is this from?"

"Star Officer Alvarez."

"Oh, wow." Grateful that he no longer had to make a last-minute run for packages of beef jerky, Rashan raised his card to wave it over the guy's electronic reader for a tip.

The staff member held his hand up, stopping Rashan. "It's already been taken care of," he said with a polite smile.

"Thank you." Rashan lifted the box off the cart and went back into his room. Momentarily setting the cooler aside, he opened a comm line and called Tony. Oddly reluctant to see his friend just then, he kept the call to audio only. "Hey," he said when Tony answered. "I just got the box. Thank you."

"You're welcome. I had a hunch you might not be prepared since this is your first time experiencing a heat on your own."

Rashan sheepishly laughed. "Yeah. I was running up to the commissary to buy a couple jugs of water and bags of beef jerky when the cafe man flagged me down."

"Beef jerky, huh? Sounds delicious."

Rashan shook his head even though Tony couldn't see him. "Not really. It would have worked but this is much better. Thank you again."

"No problem. Take care of yourself, and let me know if there's anything else you need."

As they disconnected the call, Rashan's stomach did something unfamiliar, something swoopy and light at Tony's parting words. It was as if there was a hidden, secret meaning behind them, that he would discover if he took a moment to figure it out. And for some reason, it seemed as though he was noticing the deep timbre of his friend's voice for the first time. Which was odd because he'd known Tony for years, so his low, soothing voice was more than familiar. Rashan shrugged off the strange feelings. This heat was messing with his head.

He moved to stock his room's small fridge with all the food, and put one of the electrolyte drinks on the nightstand. By the time he finished, his skin started to become overly sensitive and his clothes bothered him. Stripping down until he was naked, he laid the clothes across the foot of the bed for easy reach. For what reason he didn't know. It wasn't like he would get dressed in the middle of his heat and take a stroll around the ship. He was just... jittery and uncertain.

His one heat almost a decade ago had pretty much faded from his memory. And to have this one sprung on him so suddenly had him completely thrown off track. Hoping to at least be productive while he waited for it to start, he laid down and tried to review squad reports. Eventually, he fell into a restless sleep.

****

It hit him in the middle of the night. Rashan woke with his skin on fire, and his cock so hard it ached. He rubbed his thighs together, flexing his ass cheeks as his inner muscles clenched down on nothing. A distraught groan rolled from his throat at how empty he was. He needed to be filled.

Why hadn't Tony thought to put one of the toys that omegas used in that box for him? Tony should have known he would need something to get through this. A soft voice in his head whispered that Tony was tall and big and strong. A perfect alpha. He would fill Rashan better than any plug.

Rashan gasped in embarrassment at that thought. That was the heat brain talking. He rolled to his front and buried his face in the pillow, making an effort to push Tony from his mind. It was a losing effort, however. Because he could smell Tony beneath the thick, sweet smell of his heat. It helped having his friend's scent on him, letting him know that he didn’t have to seek out an alpha, and giving him a sense of calm, as though he were expecting Tony to arrive and slide inside him at any moment. That wouldn't happen of course. But the thought of it, forbidden as it was, eased his mind.

Twisting onto his back again, Rashan tentatively gripped his cock. Thanks to the heavy dose of his suppressants, he hadn't felt the urge to do this for a long time. He started to stroke, slowly and hesitantly at first, then with a tighter grip as he figured out what felt good. As his hand moved over hard, slick flesh, Rashan discovered that he liked long, deep pumps that took his fist from the base of his cock all the way to the tip.

But his cock wasn't the only thing demanding attention. His nipples were swollen, achy, and hot. His heat brain whispered that he should have someone there to suck on them. Unfortunately, his own hand would have to do. Rashan gently rubbed the pad of one finger over a nipple. That sent tingles of pleasure from his nipple straight to his cock. The tingles increased when he pinched it. Soon, he was frantically tugging and twisting them both.

With his attention split, his rhythm on his cock faltered, and he cursed in frustration. He stopped and tried again, timing the strokes on his cock to match the play on his nipples. Once he got in sync, he gasped as hot sparks of pleasure sizzled along his nerves. The sensations took him where he needed to go, right to the edge of climax. Raising his knees, he spread them wide, ready to accept his lover inside him. But there was no one there.

With a frustrated cry, Rashan let go of his nipple and gently slid a finger inside himself. Thanks to his heat, he was slick there, and it helped ease the way. He added a second finger, then a few moments later a third. He was clumsy, and couldn't quite match up with the rhythm of his strokes but finally it happened. His climax rushed through him, spilling over the hand on his cock, drenching the fingers stuffed in his ass.

It took a few moments before Rashan could move. He just laid there, staring up at the ceiling as he caught his breath. The heat eased back, his head cleared, and his body cooled slightly. Once he felt capable of moving again, he took his hands away from his cock and ass, wiping them on the sheets.

Rashan slid off the bed and stumbled to the shower. He turned on the water but didn't bother to wash. Instead, he simply stood under the cool spray, gradually turning it colder and colder in hopes it would help curtail his arousal. Or at least give him a long interval before the next wave started. It did neither. The second wave hit him as hard as the first, with barely any time for him to prepare for it.

Close to sobbing, he sank down to the shower floor, back against the wall, water falling against his front. He spread his legs again, moaning as the water gently massaged his balls. Again, he brought himself to climax, this time giving all his attention to his cock to make it easier to get himself off without trial and error.

After he came, he sat there with his legs splayed for several long moments before pushing himself to his feet and shutting off the water. He stepped out and grabbed a towel to dry off but abruptly stopped with the towel smashed against his face. Damnit! He'd just rinsed Tony's alpha scent off him. He immediately dropped the towel, hoping that since he'd only gotten wet and not washed, he hadn't removed all of it.

Irritated at this entire process, Rashan staggered back out to the bedroom. His ass was so slick his thighs were wet with it, his cock stood up stiff and bobbed with each step, and a blazing inferno of heat burned over every inch of his skin. Crawling onto the bed, Rashan settled on his knees, one hand braced on the mattress, the other slipping between his legs to grasp his cock. Desperate to come so he could experience the momentary cooling relief that followed, Rashan closed his eyes and started to stroke.

****

Throughout the next two days, Rashan brought himself to climax again and again. Bent over the side of the bed, with his face pressed to the mattress and his ass raised in the air as if he was prepared to receive a cock. On his back. On his front humping the mattress. On his side, practically curled up in the fetal position as his muscles clenched, torn between arousal and pain. He rested when his body let him rest and ate when his stomach demanded he eat. It was agony, as bad as he'd expected. And beneath the heat lust that fogged his brain he was pissed that he'd had to go through it.

Finally, in the afternoon of the third day his heat started to wane. The arousal wasn't as fierce, and there were longer stretches in between each wave where he could either sleep or lay there quietly without the clawing need to climax.

By that evening, Rashan realized he hadn't had a wave for several hours. He sat up amidst his tangled sheets, looking around the room as if he was checking for the all clear. But really it was his body he needed to check. Rashan looked between his legs. His cock was soft, no longer leaking pre-cum. When he shifted, he could tell his ass was still slick, but not nearly as much as it had been the past two and a half days. And his muscles were tired and sore but lax now, no longer trembling with the urge to reach for a nonexistent lover. Rashan sighed with relief. His heat was over.

Dragging himself from the bed, he stripped off the sheets and balled them up. He went over to shove them down the laundry chute, silently thanking all the stars and planets that the laundry system was mostly automated and humans wouldn't have to touch his cum, sweat, and slick stained sheets. Then he went and took another shower, turning it to a soothing warm temperature. He washed, gently rubbing the wash cloth over his still sensitive skin. It felt good to remove the evidence of the last few days.

Clean again, dressed in soft sweats, with his damp hair pulled up into a twisted bun, Rashan sat in the small armchair in the corner of the room. Checking his data pad, he saw he'd only missed one patrol. There was another scheduled for tomorrow. Determined to be ready for it, Rashan thumbed the button to show that he was available again. Then he set off for the cafeteria to eat his first full meal in three days.
 
****
After Tony ended his call with Rashan, he sat there quietly for a few moments. He'd worried that he'd overstepped in sending him food. But his alpha instincts had prodded him to take care of the omega anyway he could. As well as he knew Rashan, he'd felt certain he wasn't prepared to be shut up in his room for several days. He'd been right, and thankfully Rashan had been grateful for the delivery. Rashan hadn't picked up on anything other than one friend caring for another, which of course was all he was. Even though he wanted to be so much more.

Tony had been in love with Rashan for so long, he almost didn't remember a time when he wasn't. Caring for the omega was second nature at this point, and he'd immediately thought to provide him with the food. And Tony had been happy to scent mark him, even though that meant he had to make a concentrated effort not to respond to Rashan's coming heat to keep himself from going into rut.

Of course, as he'd ordered the food and drinks, he'd been well aware there was something else Rashan was going to need. Unmated omegas made use of sex toys during their heats. They had anal plugs and synth-cocks to keep themselves... full if they didn't have a mate. There was no shame in it. In fact, there was a small store on ship stocked with heat and rut aids. It was part of their biology. Human society had long ago adapted to accept it.

But buying something like that for Rashan was far too personal. Besides, maybe he already had his own heat aids. That thought immediately lead to Tony thinking of Rashan using a sex toy on himself. Something thick and sleek to easily slide into his ass.

Tony stood frozen in the middle of the room, picturing Rashan on his bed, fucking himself with a dildo. It didn't take long before he put himself in the vision too. He would raise Rashan's leg high, spreading him wide to help him out with the toy, getting him used to being filled before replacing it with his own cock. A rush of arousal went through him and his dick started to harden. Fuck. He needed to get these thoughts out of his head or he'd be sJJ in his room aching for a man he couldn't have.

Shaking himself out of his daze, he went over to the closet to grab a pair of running shoes. Physical exertion would distract him. Tony made his way through the halls of the Marion to the gym and jumped on the treadmill. He set the screen in front of him and the corresponding running program to the rugged terrain of a mountainous ice planet. The machine kicked on with a quiet whir and Tony started running. He ran until sweat burned his eyes, zoning out to the pounding of his feet on the belt, until he no longer thought of Rashan and his heat.

****

The next day, Tony made his way down to the flight deck for patrol, his quads burning from the previous night's punishing workout. He'd managed to keep from going into rut, but thoughts of Rashan continued to pop up in his head. As he settled in the cock pit's seat and started rolling forward to get on the track for take off, he realized that he would have to find a more surefire way to keep from responding to Rashan in the future. At least until they had time to talk so Tony could start courting him.

His mind started to wander, daydreaming about courting Rashan. They would take late night walks on the observation deck, where they'd share their first kiss. He would love to taste Rashan's gorgeous lips. He'd been a hairsbreadth away from kissing them during the scent marking. Tony shifted in the pilot's seat, growing warm in his flight suit as he imagined what would have happened if he had.

"Alvarez!"

The sharp voice blasted from his helmet's earpiece, abruptly distracting him from his musings.

"What are you doing? Your canopy is still open!"

Tony snapped to attention. With a sharp curse, he hit the button to close his mech's top. Then he sat there, cheeks burning with embarrassment as he waited for the canopy to lower over him. On the ground, his signal officer stared at him, eyes wide in shock.

"Are you okay?" he mouthed.

Tony nodded and gave the man a thumbs up. Once he received the go signal, he slowly pushed forward on the accelerator. The jet took off down the runway, gathering speed, blue lights flashing by in a blur until he blasted out into space. Tony adjusted his speed and got into formation on Sasha's starboard side.

"You okay, Alvarez?" Layla asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just got a lot on my mind."

"I know what he's got on his mind," Waylan slyly said.

JJ chimed in with a guess. "Does it start with Ra and end with Shan?"

"Ding! Ding! Ding! That is the correct answer."

Tony responded to his squad mates' teasing with a dry laugh. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"So Rashan's back at the ship and you're out here chasing Varnos rebels," JJ made a tsk-tsk noise. "I know where I'd be during my mate's time of need."

Tony was about to deny that Rashan was his mate, but Layla spoke up first.

"You don't have to worry about that, JJ, because no one will ever mate you," she said in her sweet voice.

Tony grinned. Only those who knew her would detect the layer of acid hiding just beneath her sweetness.

"Whatever, Layla! There are plenty of people who want to mate with me."

"Name one," she drawled.

JJ sputtered but Sasha cut him off before he could give any names.

"Are we out here to keep our little corner of space safe or to argue about our sex lives?" She paused for a beat. "Or lack thereof."

Howling laughter came through the lines from everyone on the squad, including Tony. When they settled down, Tony answered her question.

"We're out here to keep the planets safe, squad leader." Agreements came from Waylan, JJ, and Layla.

"All right then. Let's do our jobs."

She shot forward and they all accelerated to keep up with her.

***
Several hours later, they returned to the ship after a fairly quiet patrol. As usual, Sasha hung back and let the rest of the squad enter first. Tony went in on the left behind Layla. As he was riding the lift up, his dash blinked, notifying him he had a private call from the lieutenant's line. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Wait for me on the flight deck. I want to talk to you for a second."

"Yes, ma'am." He and Sasha were friends - had been since they were kids - but when they were on patrol, he always treated her first and foremost as his commanding officer. After his post-flight check, he deplaned and made his way to the bay across and three down from his. A special door opened in the belly of Sasha's icy blue and silver jet, and a second later she emerged in her wheelchair, a motorized ramp lowering her to the flight deck's floor. Once she was off the ramp, it retracted into the jet. She made her way over to him, her short, brown hair flattened by the helmet now resting in her lap, a frown creasing the otherwise smooth, light-brown skin of her brow.

"Thanks for waiting."

"Of course." They set off, Tony pacing his strides to match the speed of her chair.

"I'm not bringing this up out of nosiness and honestly I hadn't planned to say anything at all. But since you almost flew out into space with the top of your mech open I have to ask. Do you need to be excused from patrols when Rashan is in heat?"

Tony shook his head. "No. He's not my-." Tony paused before he finished his denial. Rashan wasn't his mate but he wanted him to be. And somehow, it felt wrong to deny it, as if he were rejecting him. "It's not like that with us," he said instead.

"For him? Or for both of you?"

Tony huffed a laugh and rubbed a hand over his hair. "I think you know the answer to that."

"Hmmpf. Indeed I do. Listen. I'm not going to try to give you any kind of love life advice. Stars know mine is nonexistent. But I think it would be best if in the future, you took yourself off patrol when Rashan is unavailable. I'm not going to ground you, because I have faith that you can make that call on your own. Just keep what happened today in mind, okay?"

"I will."

"Good," she said with a nod. "Now if you'll excuse me, I stupidly drank a gigantic Nebula Slush too close to go time and now I have to piss like you wouldn't believe." She sped up, leaving Tony alone to make his way to the residence wing and to his own room.

****
Tony kept himself busy the next day. Most of it was spent volunteering to work with the young fighter pilots who'd been stationed on the Marion, but hadn't yet been promoted to a squadron. Tony watched them in the flight simulator, answered questions, and even let them take turns sitting in his jet. He was glad to give them a little personalized attention, and they were all appreciative that he'd taken the time.

In the evening, he had dinner with Sasha and Waylan. As usual, they groaned at his healthy menu choices. Tony simply grinned and made a big show of enjoying his protein-boosted grilled chicken and vegetables. As an alpha, he was genetically pre-disposed to be big and muscular but he still liked to take care of his body. 

After dinner, Tony decided to go and chill on the observation deck for a while. As he walked down the hall, the lights overhead gradually darkened until they were replaced by softly glowing floor-level track lights. This area of the ship was kept dim so that there wouldn't be any glare obstructing the majestic show of deep space. Thick glass made up the entire starboard wall, giving observers an amazing view from every spot in the room. On the level above, there was a circular track for those who wanted to stroll. While on the main floor there were lounge chairs, intimate two-top cafe tables and giant poofs perfect for napping.

To his surprise Rashan was there, kicked back on one of the lounge chairs. He'd dragged a blanket along with him and wrapped himself up in it from toes to chin. His hair was twisted up into a bun, the relaxed style showing off his cheekbones and sharp jawline. He looked beautiful and exhausted, but Tony kept that opinion to himself as he went over and sat in the chair next to him.

"Hey. How are you?"

Rashan answered in a low, husky voice. "It was rough. But it's over."

"Are you sure you should be up and about?"

"Yeah. I had to get out of that room." He shifted in the chair. "Thanks again for the food and for marking me. It helped, until I took a shower like an idiot and rinsed most of your scent off. I'm such a rank newbie when it comes to this."

"Ah, I didn't think about that either. I'll give you a shirt next time. That way you won't have to worry if you want to shower."

Rashan flashed a tired smile. "You've always got my back. Thank you."

"You're welcome,” Tony said returning his friend’s smile. “You know I'll always be there for you."
Thank you for reading! You can add Alpha's Desire to your Goodreads list or Pre-Order now for only $2.99. (Amazon & Google links will be available on release day)

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Alpha's Desire Cover Reveal + Giveaway

Ah, book covers. I love them. So shiny and pretty. For the Alpha Omega Force series, I got it into my head that I could make my own covers. I thought I wanted something with a simply starry background and one or both of the major characters. Piece of cake, right?

I created a cover and showed it to my friends Sam and Ed. They took one look, and gave me the old, "Oh, honey, no." I was shocked! How could I, someone with zero graphic art training have created an ugly cover? (tongue is firmly in cheek here) With my hopes of becoming the next great cover artist dashed, I went looking for help.

Since I'm new to writing sci-fi romance, I reached out to other authors for advice on genre appropriate covers. Then I polled my amazing readers, who told me what colors and type of backgrounds they liked. Finally, I went to my cover artist Melody Simmons of BookCoversCre8tive and she gave me this...
Gorgeous, isn't it? Alpha's Desire releases January 22, 2019. You can add it now on Goodreads. Pre-Order links are live for Apple, Barnes & Noble and Kobo. Amazon and Google links will be available on release day.
Pre-Order & Release Day Price: $2.99
Regular Price: $4.99
Goodreads Pre-Order An Alpha Determined to Win His Chosen Mate
Star Officer Tony Alvarez protects his galaxy along with the rest of the 29th Star Squadron. But deep space can be lonely, and Tony longs to share his love and passion with a mate. Many omegas would jump at the chance to bond with the virile alpha. But Tony desires only one, his best friend, and the one man he can’t have.
 
An Omega Newly Awakened to Passion
When it comes to mating, Star Officer Rashan Grove doesn’t trust alphas. He’s repressed his omega nature for years, choosing instead to focus on his career as an elite fighter pilot. Now that he’s experiencing his first heat in a decade, he turns to the alpha who has always been by his side for help.
 
With a gentle touch and passionate embrace, Tony guides Rashan through nights of passion hotter than an exploding star. Unfortunately, when the heat clears, Rashan retreats behind a wall built from lifelong fears. How will Tony convince Rashan to embrace the bond between them before their shot at love is lost to the stars?
 
Alpha’s Desire is a steamy non-shifter/non-MPreg omegaverse romance set in the distant future. It has mechs, hot sex, and space battles. If you love space opera, anime, and romance you'll want to give this series a try!
 
Tags: Sci-Fi, Space Opera, Omegaverse, Non M-Preg, Friends to Lovers, Pining Hero, Battle Couple, Multicultural
Heat Level: High/Explicit
Lookit what else I have! I wanted character art of my guys in their flight suits, so I reached out to Andy, one of my favorite Voltron fan artists. They hooked me up with amazing drawn art of Tony and Rashan. Artists are the coolest. You can find more of Andy's work and commission info on their website: mondaijo.carrd.co
And finally, I have three advanced copies of Alpha's Desire to giveaway! Click HERE to enter. Three winners will be randomly selected. One entry per person. Winners will be notified Tuesday, January 15th. Good luck!

Love,
Christa

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Books by Christa Tomlinson

ALPHA'S DESIRE CHAPTER 1

Hello and Happy New Year! Today I'm sharing the first chapter for my upcoming release, Alpha's Desire - Book 1 in the Alpha Omega Force series. This chapter was written to the Top Gun Anthem by Harold Faltermeyer. Yes, Top Gun is one of the inspirations for the story. No, I'm not even a little ashamed of that. I hope you enjoy reading!
Space stretched so far into the distance mathematicians had gone insane trying to calculate the vastness, while philosophers spent their lives theorizing over the meaning of its infinite reach. Rashan did neither. As he flew his jet, he scanned for signs of movement, splitting his attention between the radar and looking directly out the window in front of him. There was nothing there. Nothing but deep, inky black and the glow of distant stars.
He spoke quietly, the microphone in his helmet transmitting his voice to the rest of his squad over the communication link. "I think this is going to be a peaceful and uneventful patrol." His squad mate's response exploded in his ear as soon as he finished.

"Boring!"

Rashan grinned at Waylan's vocal disappointment. It was expected, as was the response that followed.

"Any day that we don't have to directly engage with pirates or the Varnos is a good day," Lieutenant Sasha Jemison calmly said.

Rashan understood her viewpoint. No matter how good they were as fighter pilots, battles were dangerous, and they risked their lives in each one. Still, he too was a little disappointed they'd be returning to the ship without seeing anything but space dust.

However, a blip suddenly appeared on Rashan's radar. Followed by another. Then two more. "Guys. We've got company."

"Looks like you jinxed us, Rashan," Tony said.

Already getting into the mindset for a fire fight, Rashan grinned and answered his best friend without much remorse. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be sorry!" Waylan cut in. "I need some action."

"You're such a cowboy," Rashan said with a snort. He teased his friend, but secretly he was glad the Varnos had shown up.

"Stay on me and wait to see what they do. They might stay far enough outside the transport lane to avoid violating the Guion Accords, and pass by us."

Following his lieutenant's instructions, Rashan banked around slightly, staying on Sasha's left as they flew to meet the approaching space crafts. It was unlikely they were friendlies. Space travel was heavily regulated in this section of the Guion Galaxy, and they would have been informed of any expected traffic in this section before the start of their patrol. Which meant it was either pirates or unsanctioned rebels from the Varnos Federation. They'd find out soon who they were dealing with. Once they were in range for a hailing frequency, the lieutenant got on the line.

"Attention! You are approaching a restricted travel lane, protected by the Zareen Earth Alliance Force. Identify yourself for travel approval or change course immediately. Action will be taken if you do not comply."

Flying at a steady pace, his hands light on the controls, Rashan waited for the response to Sasha's order. When it came, it was in a heavily accented voice filled with loathing.

"Shut up, earthling scum."

"Well, that answers that," Rashan offered dryly.

"Yes, it does," Sasha agreed. "Engage but remember, we are not the aggressors. If they attempt to retreat, let them."

"You got it, boss." Rashan pushed up on the accelerator and his jet shot forward, streaking toward the line of small black ships. His radar signaled a shot coming at him a few seconds before he saw it himself. Yanking the controls, he tilted his craft onto the left wing. He avoided the hit but it shot so close underneath him his jet shuddered from the blowback.

Quickly righting himself, Rashan locked onto his target, firing rapid blasts from the gun ports mounted on the front of his wings. His shots connected, and a second later a plume of smoke rose up, stark white against the black of space. The Varnos jet spun and wobbled before steadying itself enough to limp behind its fellow rebels. After that, they all retreated.

Rashan shook his head in disgust as he watched the blips on the radar move farther and farther away before blinking out. "That was pointless."

Waylan laughed. "At least we won."

"So easily I don't even know why they bothered," Tony said in annoyance.

"We'll patrol for another twenty to make sure they've really gone before we return to the ship."

"Roger that," Rashan said with a nod.

For the rest of the patrol, it remained quiet, with no sightings other than a registered cargo ship. So precisely twenty minutes later, they turned to head for home, the Galaxy Ship Marion 3. The ship was massive, as long as three football fields and several levels high. Despite its size, its design was sleek and elegant. The wings flared from its sides in smooth curves while the red-tipped tail rose in a perfect slope. Once they were in sight of their home base, Sasha got back on the comm link.

"Lieutenant Jemison to Flight Command. 29th Star Squadron returning to base. Requesting entrance for four space craft."

"Welcome Back 29th. Permission granted to enter the Marion in gates three and four."

Two of the ship's rear doors for small craft slowly opened, and blinking laser runways guided them in.
Rashan throttled back and flew forward slowly, taking entrance three on the left. Even at his decelerated speed, he was still flying too fast to stop on his own. The arresting wire caught his tail hook, pulling him to a complete stop on the lift before he shot back out into space on the other side.

Rashan started shutting down the weapons system as the lift rose, taking him up to the flight deck. The lift stopped, locking into place with a metallic bang. He rolled forward slowly, driving along the lit path until he reached his assigned bay. After completing his post-flight check, he popped the canopy open and activated the exit ladder.

Once he hit the ground, he gave the gleaming blue jet a small salute. "Thanks for keeping me safe, babe." He pulled off his helmet and waited for Tony, who was exiting his jet in the bay next to him. Tony took his helmet off as he walked over, revealing short, wavy black hair, smooth brown skin, and a close-cropped beard. He flashed a grin at Rashan, his dark eyes lit with amusement.

"You've been flying for two years and you're still talking to your mech?"
Rashan returned his friend's smile, tilting his head back slightly when Tony reached him in order to maintain eye contact. "Hey, don't be jealous. It's not my fault you alphas are too tough to show your mechs any love," he teased.

They waited for the all clear from the runway crew before they crossed to the other side of the deck to the exits. They went up the short staircase together, helmets under their arms, boots loud on the metal grate of the steps. On the landing, they entered the elevator to take them up to the main part of the ship.

"You want to hang out and get something to eat after you gear down?" Tony asked once they reached the floor for their quarters.

Rashan glanced at the time on the status screen they passed. "A little later? I've got an appointment with the med staff in about thirty minutes."

"All right, swing by my room when you're ready."

Their rooms were on different halls, so they said goodbye and split up. Rashan's trip to his room was short, long enough to store his blasters, strip out of his armored flight suit, and change into a tank and sweats before heading to the medical wing.

Everything in this section of the ship was stark white, and smelled so clean it stung his nose. Rashan pressed his thumb to the patient check-in monitor, then took a seat in the waiting area. He only had to wait a few minutes before a nurse came to lead him to an exam room. The nurse directed him to have a seat on the exam table, chatting politely as he checked his blood pressure and weight.

"Okay, everything looks good," the nurse said as he put his equipment away. "The doctor will be with you shortly."

The door slid closed behind the young man with a quiet hiss, leaving Rashan alone to read the health posters on the wall while he waited for the doctor. His favorite featured a cartoon astronaut, wearing a clear, fish-bowl type helmet and sporting an aggressively friendly smile.

Remember the Three Ds and Report Space Sickness to Your Doctor! Dizziness. Disassociating. Depression.

Rashan had never experienced any of those symptoms but a member of their squad was currently on planet side medical leave recovering from a bout of space sickness. As Rashan looked at the poster, he sent up thanks that it hadn't happened to him.

A few minutes later, Dr. Bolden came in. The tall, dark-skin African American, dressed in a white uniform with a red medical logo over his left breast, smiled as he closed the door behind him.

"How are you, Star Officer Grove?"

"I'm fine as always."

"Taking your Vitamin D on the regular?" Dr. Bolden asked as he sat on a rolling stool.

Rashan nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Good. I called you in today because I wanted to talk to you about your suppressant prescription."

"Yeah, I didn't receive my automatic refill this month."

Dr. Bolden tapped through his red data pad for several moments, before looking back at Rashan with a concerned frown. "That's because I can't refill it for you, Officer Grove."

"What? Why, are we low on stock or something?"

"No, of course not. The stock is fine, I just can't give them to you. You've been on suppressants for an exceptionally long time, and your prescription is the heaviest dose available."
Frustration building in his chest, Rashan shrugged. "I didn't want to deal with any of it."

"So, you haven't had your heats and you also don't experience everyday arousal or even attraction."

"That's right. And I'd like to keep it that way."

Doctor Bolden sighed. "Officer Grove, an omega's body isn't meant to be restricted from going through its usual functions for a prolonged number of years. As you know there are adverse side effects related to long-term suppressant use. You would have had more time if you weren't on a prescription that shut down your system so thoroughly. Frankly, I'm surprised your original doctor agreed to give you such a strong dose."

"I'm willing to take the risk," Rashan said through clenched teeth.

"Well, I'm not," the doctor said with a note of finality to his crisp, professional voice. "I won't do anything that could put your health in jeopardy. You have to think of your future, not just how you feel today. You're going to have to go through your heats."

Rashan stared at the doctor in angry, open-mouthed shock. He hadn't come to this appointment expecting to be told he was going to have to suffer a heat, especially since it was scheduled to start soon. Very soon.

"I'm sorry, Rashan. You don't have a mate or a partner to spend your heat with?"

"No," Rashan said flatly. He didn't have one and he didn't want one either.

"Then perhaps you can find a friend who'd be willing to scent mark you. That should at least give you mental peace during your heat."

Practically choking on his rage, Rashan fought to hold it back and answer the doctor politely. "Thanks for the suggestion, I'll try that."

"You should also know that since this is your first heat in -." Bolden paused to check the data pad. "Nine years, it will probably be extremely strong. And the timing of them might be irregular for a while. But your body will eventually adjust and regulate the intensity and schedule. I want you to be prepared for that."

"Thanks for the heads up," Rashan again bit the words out, pissed off and itching to get out of there. Dr. Bolden gave him more info on what to expect, but Rashan mostly tuned him out. Once he was finished, Rashan quickly slid off the exam table, and stormed out of the room. He managed to hold it together until he exited the medical wing. But in the hall, he let his anger loose.

"Goddamnit!" he cursed loudly. He hadn't gone through a heat since his first when he'd presented as an omega nine years ago. Hating the change to his body and everything it signified, he'd demanded to be put on suppressants, and his omega father had obliged him.

Trying to distract himself from the memory of why he'd been so adamant about going on suppressants, he stared out the window, focusing on the sky. It was raining today. Or at least it was back on Earth in St. Louis, Missouri. The skies there were dark with low-hanging clouds, rain falling in a heavy downpour.

Although the home planet was many light years away, the ship's corridor windows displayed the far-off skies as a way to keep the endless black of space from psychologically crushing the people on the ship. Beals Corporation Universal had created the technology after a large number of space crews began experiencing depression, and reported seeing nothing but empty black as one of the causes. Beals programmers had decided on St. Louis since it was an area with four distinct seasons, and would therefore give the crews variety. It was also a way to mark the passage of time, along with the ship's lights set to mimic daylight, dimming in the evenings.

Rashan watched the rain until his anger retreated somewhat. He didn't one hundred percent believe that line that omegas could only be on suppressants for so long before they started to experience negative side effects. Unfortunately, no matter what he believed, he wasn't going to get any from the medical staff. Of course, there were other ways he could get what he needed.

Traders, legit and otherwise, had heat suppressants for sale. Unfortunately, he wouldn't be able to seek any of them out until the ship docked on Terwood in a few weeks. Meanwhile, his heat was coming soon. According to the schedule of his now inactive prescription, it would start in a day or two.

"Shit," Rashan cursed again. The doc had said he should let someone scent mark him, so he might as well try that for now. Although mates scent marked one other, it was something family members did too. Young omegas would often be marked by older alpha relatives, giving them a sense of protection and security as they went through their heats. However, Rashan didn't have any family on board the Marion. So, who could he ask?

Naturally, he thought of Tony first. They were best friends and Rashan trusted him more than anyone on this ship. As he headed for Tony's room, he hoped his friend wouldn't see the request as a gross imposition, and would agree to help him out.
 
***
 
Tony returned to his room, stripped out of his skin-tight armored space suit, and took a hot shower. Once he was clean, dry, and dressed in standard issue Z.E.A.F sweats, he sat down at his small desk. Pulling up the entertainment schedule on his data pad, he tapped through to see what films were playing. There were two cinema rooms on board the Marion. They were small, but had a good selection of movies running on a continuous schedule in order to accommodate all the crew and their various shifts. Cinema A had several horror movies listed for the day. Tony was looking over the choices and start times, when his door chimed, announcing a visitor.

"Door open," he said as he set the data pad down. At his command, the door slid open to show a clearly angry Rashan standing in the hallway. Despite that anger, Tony thought he looked as gorgeous as ever, with his long, curly black hair and the warm brown skin that he'd inherited from his Samoan parents. Like most omegas, Rashan was petite. But he was also an elite soldier who trained and fought regularly, which gave him a slender, lightly muscled build. His thick, dark lashes framed expressive eyes that were currently shining silver with emotion, and his full lips were turned down into a frown. Tony wondered what had happened to upset him in the hour since they'd parted. "What's wrong?"

Rashan came into the room. "Can we talk in private?"

"Of course. Locks engage," he directed the system while Rashan stalked over to sat on his bed. 

"I just came from Doc Bolden's office." Rashan paused and raked a hand through his hair. "He won't give me any more suppressants. Says I've been on them too long."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Tony truly was sorry. He remembered when Rashan had first gone on suppressants, and how happy he'd been as a result.

Rashan looked up, his irises glowing with fury and frustration. "I don't believe there's anything wrong with staying on them for a long time. It's just nonsense they came up with to keep us omegas in line, I know it."

"Rashan you don't know if that's true."

"Whether it's true or not, I'm going to track down some street suppressants at the end of this patrol cycle when we land on Terwood. I'll get some even if I have to deal with a black-market trader. They can't be that hard to find with all the activity going on around the docking station."

Immediately concerned, Tony went over and dropped to one knee in front of his friend. "Please don't. You don't know what kind of chemical mix is in that black-market crap." Rashan scoffed at his warning, so Tony used the one thing he knew Rashan cared the most about to get him to reconsider his plan. "They could do more harm than good. You don't want to end up making yourself sick and affecting your career as a pilot."

Rashan's jaw remained stubbornly set as he stared off to the side for several long moments. Finally he groaned, his shoulders slumping in defeat. "You're right. I really do have to go through my heats." He cursed and pounded a fist on the mattress. "It's not fair. I shouldn't have to deal with this just because I was born an omega."

"Alphas have ruts, Rashan. And they can be... unpleasant if we don't have a mate or someone to spend it with." Tony knew that from years of personal experience. "And other than the special blockers we're only allowed to use in the event of an emergency during our rut, there aren't any suppressants for us." Rashan still didn't look convinced. Instead, he was busy picking at the dark material of Tony's sheets.

"I guess."

Tony genuinely felt bad for his friend, so he tried to cheer him up. "Maybe once we're back on Terwood, you'll be able to find another method to help you. Something legit, not from a black-market trader or back alley doctor. In the meantime, do you want to do something and take your mind off all of this for a while? The entertainment wing is having a horror movie night."

"I'm going to have to raincheck on hanging out for a few days. I uh... I came by because I was hoping you could help me. With my heat."

Tony's heart skipped a beat before it started pounding so hard, he was sure his friend would be able to hear it.

Was he going to ask...?

"You're free to tell me no, especially if there's someone you're thinking about mating. But..." Rashan hesitated, plucking at the sheet again. "Do you think you could scent mark me? It should help keep my head calm to have a familiar alpha's scent around me while I get through this."

Suddenly, Tony had blood heading south. It wasn't a request for heat sex, but it surprised him just as much. "I'm not preparing to mate anyone," was all he could manage to say.

Rashan looked at Tony, his eyes no longer silver with anger. Now they were their usual soft brown, and filled with tentative hope.

"Then will you help me?"

Tony gazed into those deep, dark eyes. There wasn't anything he wouldn't do for his friend. Even this, which might affect him in ways he would have to keep secret from everyone. "Of course. I'd be glad to help you."
He stood, then grasped Rashan's hand and pulled him up to stand in front of him. There was no way Tony was doing this on his bed. An alpha, on a bed, scent marking the omega he desired who was about to go into heat? He had control, but that would be pushing it to the limits. If he wanted to keep from going into rut in response to Rashan's heat, he'd need to do this as quickly and efficiently as possible.

Since he was already holding Rashan's hand, he raised the other man's slim wrist to his mouth to start with the scent gland there. He brushed his lips across Rashan's pulse before licking over the spot. Rashan's eyes went wide, as if he were surprised, before he looked down, breaking eye contact. Tony had to swallow back a pleased groan at the first taste of Rashan on his tongue. He wanted more of it. If they were mated, he would suck on that gland, getting even more of his omega's taste in his mouth. Maybe he'd even lavish enough attention on the delicate spot to tease forth arousal. Tony stifled another groan at the thought of Rashan becoming aroused from his lips and tongue.

He bent his head, leaning in closer and closer until his mouth hovered above Rashan's collarbone. His pulse beat fast and quick there, and a sweet scent bloomed in the air. It was faint but the alpha within Tony had no trouble recognizing it as that of an omega about to go into heat. His dick twitched in response. Tony immediately tightened his control over his body's reactions. Reminding himself he was only doing this as a friend helped, even as he ran his tongue up the side of Rashan's throat, nuzzling curly black hair out of the way so he could lick behind his ear. Rashan shivered and Tony froze, waiting to see if he would ask him to stop, or gods, ask him for more. He said nothing, so Tony continued

The marking on the left side complete, he pulled back slightly to switch to the other side, pausing for a barely noticeable nanosecond when he passed in front of Rashan's parted lips. Once he'd marked the glands on Rashan's right, he straightened, simultaneously glad and disappointed the unexpected intimacy was over. "That should help."

Rashan bit his lip, dragging his teeth across plump flesh. "What about the other place? Shouldn't you mark there too?"

Tony sucked in a sharp breath. The place Rashan referred to was the skin at the cleft of his ass. No one but a lover would dare touch that spot on an omega. There'd been far too many nights where Tony had lain awake, imagining brushing his thumb, then his lips over that spot on Rashan. Now, he was being offered the chance to do so in real life and he had to act as if it was no big deal. "If you want me to." He ghosted his hand down Rashan's spine. "How do you want me to do it?"

Rashan stared up at Tony, his expression open and trusting.

"Whatever you think is best. I need this to work."

A vision swirled into his head of him dropping to his knees, and gently cradling Rashan's narrow hips as he licked the curve of his spine. Tony shuddered, finally losing the battle to control his erection. His cock grew hard and heavy. Tony swallowed thickly. He pushed that mental image away but there was no way to keep his body's reaction from Rashan. As his body warmed with arousal, the scent of it rose in the room. Rashan's nostrils flared slightly as he inhaled. Then he blinked, a flush crawling up his throat. Without saying a word, he looked down to the floor, his hair swinging forward to hide his face.

Tony cursed under his breath. As much as he wanted to, he couldn't put his mouth to that hidden, sensitive place.

He'd do what would have the most impact in the fastest time possible. "Okay. Turn around then."
Rashan turned and tucked his thumbs into either side of his waist band, pulling his pants and briefs down enough to bare the cleft of his ass.

Staring down at smooth brown skin, and the dimples on either side of Rashan's spine, Tony nearly forgot his decision of a moment ago not to kiss and worship there as a lover would. "This will also help keep other alphas from approaching you," he said hoarsely, trying to ignore the insistent throbbing in his cock.

"A bonus then," Rashan quietly answered.

Tony took a single step forward, bringing their bodies so close together he could feel Rashan's warmth against him. First, he rubbed his throat over the top of Rashan's head, taking the opportunity to scent him there while he pulled his own sweats and briefs down. Once he'd freed his shaft, he took it in hand.

Before he marked Rashan, Tony looked at their reflections in the mirror across from them. Rashan's head was still down, black hair hanging loose and shielding his face from view. Tony stood behind him, his greater height and bulk dwarfing the smaller man. And his eyes glowed silver, a sure sign of extreme emotion. In this case, Tony knew without a doubt it was arousal. The hard length in his hand made that abundantly clear. They looked - not like a couple, they were too tense for that - but they looked like they belonged together.

Tony ached to slide an arm around Rashan's waist, pulling him flush against his body. He would be good and scented then. Even more so if he pressed Rashan down on the bed, covering him completely with his bigger body.
Tony bit back a groan. He couldn't do either of those things. What he needed to do was finish this before the thing he was trying to avoid happened.

He looked back down at his cock, then slowly rubbed the head along the top of Rashan's crease, letting his hand settle lightly on Rashan's hip as he did so. His heart pounded, and he fought to keep his breathing level. He should never had agreed to do this, but he hadn't been able to resist his friend's plea. A clear drop of pre-cum beaded on the tip of his cock, slipping free and wetting Rashan's skin before he could stop it. Rashan gasped. He pulled away just as Tony took a quick step back. The marking was truly complete now. They adjusted their clothes without looking at each other, the room quiet with a silence so sharp it should have cut Tony's ears.

"Thanks," Rashan said, still facing away with his head still down.

"You're welcome."

Rashan finally turned and peeked up at him. It was only for a second, but it was long enough for Tony to see that Rashan's eyes were shining silver once more. Tony's own eyes widened, as he wondered what Rashan was feeling right then. Normally he'd be able to detect the emotion, but Rashan's face was carefully expressionless, and his suppressants were so strong they blocked Tony from using scent to decipher his mood. He could have asked, but Rashan was already moving across the room. Tony let him go, watching and wondering as the door slid shut behind him.
Thanks for reading!

Love,
Christa
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Kisses: An Excerpt from The Detective's Pleasure

Hello! Since it's National Kissing Day, I thought I'd share Sam and Ryan's first kiss. It might not be the most tender, but trust Sam to give Ryan what he needs.

“Have you been happy holding on to your control when you’re being dominated?”

Ryan shook his head again. He glanced down for a moment. “Actually, I’ve been miserable,” he said as he looked back up. Sam’s expression softened with sympathy as he came towards him.

“Baby, it’s time you stopped being miserable.” Sam cupped Ryan’s cheek, his thumb gently stroking his jaw. “Tonight, you’ll kneel at my feet and start learning what it feels like to truly submit.”

Ryan looked up at Sam with his eyes wide. “Okay,” he whispered. A flush crawled up his neck and he dropped his eyes to look at the buttons on Sam’s red and blue plaid shirt, unable to believe that soft whisper had come from him. He never talked like that. He-. His thoughts were cut off when Sam brushed that thumb over his lips.

“Stop thinking so hard. Come with me.”

Ryan set his glass down and followed Sam out of the kitchen. They went into the living room and Ryan looked around, expecting to see something set up for a scene. There was nothing. Just the same furniture and TV he’d seen the other time he’d been in the room. Sam was at his back, so he turned to look at him, confusion on his face.

“Looking for the toys?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t need them.” Sam slid a hand into his hair, gripping it tight and tugging his head back. “You’ll kneel for me without me having to tell you to. And when you do, you’ll feel so much better. Trust me.”

His heart pounding, Ryan stared up at the man telling him that he would make things better for him. Maybe it was crazy, but he trusted him. So he was ready by the time Sam’s lips crashed onto his. The kiss was deep and rough, and Ryan knew without a doubt that this dominant man was in control. Their tongues slid together, and Sam bit his lip, and it was so hot and intense that Ryan’s breath raced, desperate to feel Sam’s hands on him. But Sam didn’t touch him anywhere except the tight grip he still had in his hair. It was driving Ryan crazy. He needed to feel Sam against him.

He arched forward, brushing their chests together. Sam didn’t stop him so Ryan grew bolder, putting his hands on Sam’s lean hips and pulling him close. And that’s when the kisses stopped. Sam looked at him, his normally easy-going expression hard, the grip he had on his hair tightening.

“Who is in control, Ryan?”

Ryan blinked up at Sam, the rest of him frozen in the face of that forceful stare. “You are.”

“That’s right. And did I give you permission to touch me or to move me where you wanted?”

“No, Sir.”

“Then drop your hands, right now.”

Ryan dropped his hands back to his sides. Sam stared at him for a long moment until Ryan lowered his eyes as well. Only then did Sam loosen the hold he had on his hair and tug his face back up for more kisses. They were just as intense as before, but Ryan didn’t make the mistake again of trying to pull Sam closer. His fingers twitched and his body felt as though it were vibrating he wanted to feel Sam against him so bad. But he managed to resist.

Sam finally ended the kiss and pulled back to look at him. He rubbed a thumb over Ryan’s mouth and without even thinking, Ryan kissed it. Sam gave him a slow smile.

“That’s better,” he said.

Ryan’s chest warmed at the praise as Sam stepped around behind him. His hands went to Ryan’s waist and began pulling his shirt from where it was tucked into his waistband. He kept pulling and Ryan took the silent direction, raising his arms over his head so that Sam could remove the shirt. Once it was off, Sam tossed it on the couch, where it landed in a heap. Ordinarily, Ryan would have gone over and folded the shirt neatly. But he was distracted and forgot all about the shirt when Sam’s hands went to his waistband and began opening his pants.

“Take your shoes off,” Sam said.

Ryan followed the order, then stood there, his breathing quick and shallow as Sam slowly pushed his pants down his hips. Sam walked back around to face him, trailing a finger along the edge of his briefs as he went.

“Do you always match your underwear to your clothes?” 

Ryan’s face heated, partially with arousal, partially from embarrassment. His briefs were gray to match the short sleeved gray button down he'd been wearing. “No, not always. Just some of the time.” Sam arched an eyebrow, like he didn’t quite believe him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Sometimes.”

Sam took a step forward, pressing their chests together. But he kept going, walking Ryan backward until his back was up against the wall.

“Let me see if I can guess the times you do.”

Ryan’s breath hitched as the hand at the waistband of his briefs crept downwards until it cupped his shaft.

“You match them when you’re coming to see me.”

“Yeah.” Ryan sucked in a breath as Sam started stroking him through the soft cotton.

“You match them when you’re in uniform.”

“Yeah.”

Sam smiled. “And do you have light blue or dark blue?” he asked.

Ryan blushed again. “Both.”

Sam leaned in and kissed him. “You match them anytime you’re going somewhere nice or important.”

“Yeah.” Sam leaned in again until their lips were touching. He didn’t kiss him, just let their lips brush together as he spoke.

“Ryan?”

“Yeah?” Ryan was barely able to get the word out. His entire focus was on the calloused hand that slipped into his underwear to grasp his bare cock. Sam pumped him slowly as he asked his next question.

“Would it be safe to say that you match your briefs to your clothes nearly all the time?” 

“I…I guess so,” he managed to get out between gasping breaths. Sam laughed softly before kissing him again. He took his hand away from his cock, but before the whimper of protest in Ryan’s throat could be voiced, he’d pressed their groins close, working his hips so that their cocks rubbed together. Ryan gasped again as Sam grasped his wrists, pulling them over his head and holding them against the wall.

“I like that you’re so precise that you match your underwear to your clothes,” he said as he brushed kisses over the sensitive skin of his neck. “I like that you’re sort of embarrassed to admit it.”

Ryan shuddered as Sam sucked a small bite over his pulse point.

“I like that you’re so neat you wanted to fold that shirt when I threw it, but you were so turned on that you let it go and forgot about it.” Sam pulled back to look at him. “I like you.” 

Sam moved to grip Ryan’s wrists with one hand, the other slowly moving back down his body to push his briefs over his hips and down his legs.

“And because I like you, I’ll be your teacher.”
AMAZON   AMAZON UK   AMAZON CA
I think Sam is going to be a very good teacher for Ryan. ;-) You can check out the rest of their story in The Detective's Pleasure, on sale this weekend at Amazon for .99. Enjoy National Kissing Day!

Love,
Christa

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Donuts: A Scene from Bad Boys Need Love Too. NSFW

Hello and happy National Donut Day. I didn't know that was a thing until this morning. But since I'm now aware, I thought I'd share with you a scene from Bad Boys Need Love Too, where Joseph and Gage enjoy donuts together. It's NSFW, so you probably don't want to read it on your computer at work. Enjoy!
Sunday morning, Joseph woke to sunlight warming his face. He was lying on his front, his head turned towards the window. Gage lay next to him, on his front as well, his arm a heavy weight draped over Joseph’s back. He was tempted to lay there and fall back asleep to the sound of Gage’s soft snores, but his stomach was growling.

He turned over, dislodging Gage’s arm. When he was free, he sat up. His movements woke Gage, who groaned and tried to pull him back down.

“Why are you awake? It's Sunday. Go back to sleep.”

Joseph laughed. “You are definitely not a morning person.”

Gage opened one eye to look at him. “After two weeks of sleeping together, you're just now figuring that out?”

Joseph smiled. He and Gage had indeed been back together for two weeks now. They'd spent nearly every night together, splitting their time between each other's homes. This morning they were in Gage’s large bedroom. And as usual Gage was reluctant to be dragged out of sleep.

“I'm hungry.”

Gage raised his hand to rub across his stomach. “You're always hungry. Where do you put it all?”

Joseph got out of the bed. “Shut up. I want donuts.” He bent over to grab his jeans from the floor. Gage whistled.

“Oh yeah, that's where you put it all.”

Joseph turned back around to see Gage grinning at him wickedly. He arched a brow. “You complaining?”

Gage shook his head. “Hell no.”

Joseph continued getting dressed and pulled his hair back into a sloppy ponytail. “I didn't think so.” Then he cursed. “Shit, I forgot you drove me over here last night. Any chance I can convince you to get out of bed and take me to get some donuts?”

Gage stretched and pulled the covers up his bare chest. “I'm not getting up. Take the Indian.”

Joseph’s eyes popped wide. “Are you serious?”

Gage shrugged. “Yeah. I trust you. Keys are on the rack next to the garage door in the kitchen.”

Joseph grinned with excitement and started out of the room. Gage called him back.
“Hey. There's a helmet for you on the shelf out there.”

Joseph looked at Gage in surprise. “Thank you.” Gage waved him off and he went bounding down the stairs.

Down in the garage Joseph saw Gage’s three motorcycles. But he ignored two of them and went for the Indian Chief Dark Horse. He couldn't believe Gage had said he could ride his motorcycle. Joseph ran a palm over the muted colors of the headdress logo. The rest of the bike was a rich black. It looked strong and solid as it sat there, a perfect match to its owner.

Joseph swung his leg over and mounted the bike. He'd found the key and a shiny black retro-looking helmet just where Gage had said they'd be. The helmet was obviously new and fit his head perfectly. He started the bike and it came roaring to life. Wheeling it over to the garage door, he hit the button to open it, drove through, and put in the code to close it again. Joseph didn't even try to hold back his grin as the big bike rumbled beneath him. He just revved it up and drove off.

****

Gage looked towards the door as he heard Joseph coming up the stairs. He breezed into the room, bringing the scent of fresh air, motorcycle exhaust and sugar in with him. Joseph jumped on the bed, straddling his waist.

“I love that bike. The ride is so smooth and easy. And it just rumbles, deep and throaty. The power in it was awesome as I was cruising along. And the bike is just cool, especially all dressed in black like that. I swore I could hear Foghat's Slow Ride playing somewhere in the atmosphere.”

“I would say you've never had anything that powerful between your thighs, but you've had me,” Gage teased. He liked that Joseph enjoyed his bike so much.

Joseph rolled his eyes and dug into the white paper bag for a donut. He bit into the pastry and moaned. “Chocolate icing.” He licked his lips. “Yummy.”

Gage folded his arms behind his head and watched Joseph, still on top of him, eating that donut.

“Are you going to offer me any?” he asked when there was only one bite left.

Joseph looked at the piece of donut in his hand and then down at him. “Nope. You should have gotten up and come with me.” Then he popped it in his mouth.

Gage smacked him on the ass, making him jump. “If I'd gone with you, you wouldn't have gotten to ride my bike.”

Joseph grinned as he pulled out another donut, this one glazed. “Oh yeah. Forgot about that.” He held the sugary treat up to his mouth for Gage to take a bite.

They shared the next two donuts, Gage laying there and letting Joseph feed him. When the last crumb was gone, Gage reached for his hand. Pulling it up to his mouth, he slowly licked the sugared icing from his fingers. Joseph watched him with those gorgeous green eyes so he made a show of it, darting his tongue out in teasing little laps.

His eyes slid shut as Gage sucked a finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before he bit down on the fleshy pad. Joseph made a soft little sound of surprise, his hips jerking in his lap. Gage smoothed a palm up Joseph’s denim clad thigh, feeling the warm skin and hard muscle beneath the material. He curved his hand around to cup Joseph’s ass, Joseph subtly grinding against him as he did. He called his lover's name.
“Joseph.”

When he opened his eyes and looked down at him, Gage told him what he wanted him to do.

“Take your shirt off.”

Joseph obeyed him, pulling his t-shirt over his head and dropping it to the floor. Gage traced his fingers over his well-defined abs, smoothing his palms up to the pads of muscle on his chest. Gage smiled to himself. He might hate that fancy gym Joseph went to, but he loved what it did for his body.

Gage wrapped a hand around the back of Joseph’s neck, tugging him down until their lips met. They kissed, their tongues slowly and softly playing together. Gage stroked Joseph’s ponytail, winding the curls around his fingers as he lightly sucked at his bottom lip. He pulled the band free from his lover’s hair and the silky strands fell in a dark curtain around them.

The kiss went on, sunlight filtering through the cloak of Joseph’s hair, Joseph sighing into his mouth. Gage pulled back and looked up into his lover's eyes. His pretty, gold and green eyes. He would be careful with Joseph, and never hurt him. He promised himself that. Gage stroked his thumb over Joseph’s mouth.

“I didn't think you could taste any sweeter.”

Joseph smiled. “Now are you glad I woke you up for donuts?”

Gage made a noise that was a non-answer and pushed Joseph up until he was sitting upright again. Looking down, he saw Joseph’s erection pressing against the front of his jeans. He rubbed his palm there, feeling how hard he was. Joseph bit his lip, his hips moving forward slightly. Gage watched him as he slowly popped the button loose and pulled the zipper down.

Joseph hadn't put his underwear back on before he’d gotten dressed to leave, so his bare cock peeked out from his opened jeans. Gage teased his hard shaft with one finger. Joseph pushed his hips forward more insistently this time, forcing his cock to come out of his jeans a little more.

Gage pushed Joseph up off his lap and pulled his jeans down hard to get the tight fitting material just low enough to bare his ass. He was naked, so all he had to do was shove the sheet covering him out of the way. Gage reached over to the nightstand for the bottle of lube. He covered himself in the liquid, then worked a slick finger up into Joseph to get him ready. Joseph was squirming in his lap, constricted by the jeans around the tops of his thighs.

“Gage. I can't move like this.”

Gage grabbed Joseph by his narrow hips and started easing him down his shaft. “That's what you get for wearing these tight ass jeans.”

“You like them.”

“I like the way your ass looks in 'em.”

Joseph closed his eyes and exhaled hard as Gage brought him firmly down onto his cock. “Same thing.”

Gage laughed and smoothed his hands up Joseph’s back. He was all the way inside his lover, but he didn't start moving yet. He picked the bottle of lube up and taking Joseph’s hand, squeezed some into his palm. Joseph immediately grasped his shaft and started stroking himself. Gage watched while he kept a grip on Joseph’s hips with both hands, pushing him up then slamming him back down onto his cock, thrusting his own hips up to meet him each time. Joseph couldn't move restrained by his jeans the way he was, but Gage was still enjoying feeling him clench around his shaft.

Joseph's eyes were closed, his head thrown back. A particularly long moan came from him when he squeezed his cock hard. Gage stopped moving. Joseph was still moaning and stroking himself when Gage pushed him off and tossed him to the side. He landed facing away from him.

Joseph looked over his shoulder. “Hey! What was that?”

Gage smirked. “You weren't paying enough attention to me.”

Joseph’s eyes narrowed. “You're the one started this with my pants on me so that I could hardly move.”

“That's no excuse. Show me you like what I'm doing to you. Not what you're doing to yourself.”

“You're kidding me, right? You're jealous of my hand?” he asked, disbelieving laughter in his voice.

Gage grinned. “Yep.” He yanked Joseph close against him until they were pressed together, his front to Joseph’s back. Now he pushed Joseph’s pants all the way down, Joseph toeing off his shoes so he could take them completely off. “If your hand is making you feel that good, what do you need me and my dick for?”

Joseph laughed. “You know I want it.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grabbed Joseph’s hands, holding them up over his head, and pushed back inside him. Before he even started moving Joseph let out the loudest moan he'd ever heard.

“Ooooh, Gage! That's the stuff right there!”

Gage buried his face in the crook of Joseph’s neck, laughing into his hair. He pulled his hips back and slid back into him slowly. Joseph kept up with his obviously fake moans.
“Yeah, baby! I was so wrong to want my hand on my dick. Bad hand! Bad me!”

Gage was nearly howling with laughter now. He'd never laughed like this during sex. “You obnoxious little fucker.”

Joseph looked back over his shoulder. “I believe you're the one doing all the fucking.”

“That's right,” he said with a grin. He kissed Joseph, pushing his tongue into his mouth. He thrust into his ass hard and Joseph cursed for real that time.

“Fuck.”

Gage’s laughter was smug now as he fucked Joseph, listening to his moans change from ultra-fake to genuinely passionate. He glided into him again and again, still holding Joseph’s arms up over his head. He pressed their mouths back together, sucking and biting at his soft tongue and pouty bottom lip.

Joseph was breathing hard, writhing against him. He twisted his body, throwing his leg over Gage’s. Gage pushed his thigh between Joseph’s legs, lightly pressing it up against his balls. They were hot and swollen against his skin and Joseph groaned into his mouth as he rubbed his thigh back and forth against them.

Gage finally released his grip on Joseph’s wrists, bringing his hand down so that together they grasped his cock. They both stroked him, Joseph’s hand on top, his on the bottom, their fingers knocking together as they pumped.

“I'm about to come,” Joseph breathed out.

“Of course you are, now that you're touching yourself.”

Joseph half laughed – half groaned. Gage doubled the force of his thrusts, fucking him hard and fast, his hips slapping against Joseph’s ass. His spine was tingling, his balls as tight as Joseph’s felt against his leg.

“If you make me come first I'll let you ride the Indian again.”

He'd barely finished speaking when Joseph started pushing his ass back and forth in rhythm with his thrusts. He laughed at that quick response, but it quickly changed to a groan as Joseph pressed his ass tight against him, grinding and clenching hard on his cock. He could have held on a little longer, but he didn't.

Gage let go, relishing the feel of his orgasm tingling and racing up his shaft until he released deep into his lover. His cock was still throbbing with delicious aftershocks, but he gave his attention to Joseph, jerking him off swiftly, making him moan and come in a hot rush over their hands.

Joseph took a deep breath and let it out in a loud sigh. “Donuts, riding that bike, and sex with you. Three great ways to start the day.”

Gage lightly ran his fingers over Joseph’s hip, making him shiver. “Which was your favorite part?”

Joseph was quiet for a moment before he answered. “I'm gonna have to go with riding the Indian.”

Gage laughed and smacked him on the ass.

I hope you enjoyed that! This little bit remains one of my favorite sexy scenes because they are so gosh darn relaxed, happy and cute. If you'd like to read more of Gage & Joseph's story, you can check out them out in Bad Boys Need Love Too.

Love,
Christa
Visit my website: www.ChristaTomlinson.com
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First Chapter Friday: In His Corner

“It’s a good thing we’ve got this entire floor booked or people would be complaining to the front desk about the noise.”

Tré Montgomery laughingly agreed with his friend The Chancellor as he looked around the room. Nearly the entire roster and crew for Frontier Professional Wrestling was staying on the sixth floor of their downtown Miami hotel. Their group was a little rowdier than usual because they were celebrating Chance’s retirement from the wrestling ring. After his final match earlier that evening, Chance had requested that they chill at the hotel to celebrate rather than going out to a bar or club.

Of course, chill had turned into a full-blown party. A couple of people had gone on beer and food runs, the room next door had an enthusiastic NBA 2K18 PlayStation tournament taking place, while a big-budget superhero movie played on the TV in the room across from them. There were wrestlers and crew out in the hall talking and laughing as they went from room to room. Tré and Chance sat at a table in the corner of Tré’s hotel room, where someone had hooked up portable karaoke.

“You knew this would happen,” Tré said.

Chance shook his head at two of their fellow wrestlers loudly singing to an old Guns N’ Roses song that blared from a laptop connected to the TV. “Yeah, I did.”
Tré watched the two for a moment, before turning to look at his friend. “I’ll miss you in the ring, old man.”

“Don’t you start. Like I told Devin, I’m not going anywhere. The only thing that’s changed is now I get to wear actual pants to work.”

Tré laughed again. “Don’t pretend you won’t miss putting on the spandex.”

Chance rolled his eyes at that and changed the subject. “How are things with you and your partner? Got any ideas for storylines you want to give to your new booker? Now that I’m in charge of the promotion’s creative direction I can actually do something with the crazy ideas everyone is always coming up with.”

Tré looked out into the hall at the partner Chance was referring to: Brandon Wilkes, his tag team partner at FPW. The lean, young black man slouched against the wall talking to another wrestler. His thick, shoulder-length brown hair was pulled up into a puff at the back of his head, the style emphasizing the sharp line of his jaw and full lips. The harsh, bright hallway lights didn’t detract from the warm glow of his golden-brown skin. Tré always noticed those things about his gorgeous partner, even though he shouldn’t. And Chance usually called him out on it. He rushed to answer Chance’s question in an effort to hopefully keep it from happening yet again.

“Things are fine.” He paused for a second to reconsider. “Actually, he’s been a little distant lately. Too preoccupied to sit down and come up with any potential feuds for us, but other than that, things are fine.”

“You guys aren’t having problems, are you?”

“No. We’re solid. He just looks like he’s got something on his mind. He’ll spit it out when he’s ready.”

“All right then. You know him better than anyone.” Chance took a sip of his beer and casually glanced off to the side. “So, you guys haven’t discussed anything new?”

Tré wasn’t fooled by the studied nonchalance. Apparently, his attempt to head Chance off hadn’t worked. “We’re not going there tonight, Chancellor.” 

“You’re right. It’s a night for celebration. Not for talking about why you should speak up on something that might make you want to celebrate.”

Tré pressed his lips tightly closed to keep from responding to that comment. People in love always wanted everyone around them to be in love as well, so he couldn’t fault his friend too much for pushing for something that was never going to happen.

He was saved from having to respond to the older wrestler’s comment when Devin walked into the room. A smile lit up Chance’s face when he noticed his lover approaching. The tall redhead gave Tré a quick grin before looking down at Chance.

“I’m tired. Let’s go to bed,” Devin said as he held out his hand toward his boyfriend.

Tré snorted in amused disbelief. Devin didn’t look the slightest bit tired. He practically bounced on his toes, his eyes bright and excited. He might want to go to bed, but it wasn’t for sleep.

Chance’s lips twitched, holding back a smile as he let the younger man pull him to his feet. Fingers linked with Devin’s, he looked back at Tré. “Thanks for the party. I’ll catch you in the morning.”

“You’re welcome. Have a good night,” he said as he saluted them both with his beer.

Tré watched as Chance followed Devin from the room. He never would have thought that Chance would be the one out, happy, and in a relationship. But Devin had stormed into FPW earlier that year, and Chance had fallen in love with the young wrestler before he’d known what hit him. Tré was happy for him. Still, a thorn of jealousy poked at his insides.
Chance had a romantic partner. Even better, it was someone in the business who understood what the life was like and would be with him as they traveled across the country. Tré wanted that too, almost desperately. He looked at Brandon again, out in the hallway, laughing at whatever Kenji had said. His smile lit up his whole face. Tré couldn’t help but smile in response, even though it was bittersweet. Brandon was his partner. His tag team partner. Tré was satisfied with that. He really was. Really.

***
A week after the Summer Showdown pay-per-view, Brandon and some of the other boys on the FPW roster hit up a New Orleans gym for a pre-show workout. Brandon leaned against the chest fly machine, bobbing his head to the music playing over the loudspeakers while Tré pressed out his reps. Brandon liked this place. It was right in the middle of the spectrum with hard-core gyms on one side—with their screaming rock music, bare walls and the air turned up so high he had to jog in place to stay warm in between sets—and fitness centers on the other—where you got a dozen judgmental glares if you let the weights clang too loud.

As Brandon waited his turn, he watched Devin and Chance working out together across the gym. Devin appeared happy and full of energy as always. He’d been that way ever since Brandon had first met him back on the indies a few years ago. Chance on the other hand, was different. Whereas before he’d always been serious and quiet, now he was smiling and more talkative. Of course, most of those smiles were directed toward Devin, but it was nice to see the wrestling icon happy. Brandon straightened as Tré got up and wiped down the seat to let him take his turn. When he noticed where Brandon was looking, he grinned and shook his head.

“Those two love birds.”

“Still crazy that The Chancellor is out and with Devin,” Brandon said as he sat and adjusted the weights.

“Yep.”

“Must be nice though.” The weights rose with a hiss as he pressed out his first rep. “To be with the person you love. Especially in this business.”

“Yeah. Pro wrestling isn’t exactly known for creating lasting relationships. I think most tag teams last longer than the majority of wrestling marriages.”

Brandon continued with his set, enjoying the pleasant burn of his muscles working at the edge of their limit. Tré watched the two men they were discussing, and Brandon watched him. Although, he made sure not to be obvious he was staring at his friend. He’d become pretty good over the three years they’d been a tag team at watching Tré on the sly. And he looked often because he liked what he saw.

Tré was tall, several inches taller than him, with smooth, dark skin. His low haircut and goatee were perfectly maintained from weekly trips to the barber shop. Brandon loved his partner’s well-groomed style. His own hair was usually a carefree mess and his jaw was always scruffy. But Tré looked like he was about to model for an expensive watch ad at any moment. His muscles and build were perfect, thick and powerful without being bulky. He’d been a basketball power forward throughout high school and college, and it showed in his physique.

Brandon felt blessed by the gods, because four nights a week, he got to see his partner’s amazing body covered in nothing more than spandex underwear and boots. He appreciated the gift, but he also liked the way Tré looked right now dressed in a muscle tank and basketball shorts. The loose, dark blue fabric teased Brandon every time it molded to Tré’s firm ass and powerful thighs. And he’d always had a thing for the long line and defined cut of Tré’s calves. A silly thing to focus on, but the smooth skin and hard muscle there drew his eye. Probably because they touched so much working together in the ring, but that was one spot—other than the obvious no touch areas—that he’d never had the opportunity to get his hands on. It was like forbidden fruit, there to taunt him. Visible and within reach, but unattainable.   

Snorting a laugh to himself at his obsession with Tré’s calves, Brandon let the weights come to a full stop. Finished with his set, he got his partner’s attention by nudging him with his foot. “We’re so close, we might as well be married. Except neither of us is putting out.”

“Then it is like we’re married,” Tré said in a dry tone.

Brandon laughed at his partner’s humor. “Do you think you’ll ever be in a relationship like those two?”

“What do you mean?”

“You know. With somebody in the business.”

Tré looked away. “Who knows? Don’t see how I’m supposed to meet someone when I’m in a different city nearly every night.”

“Maybe I could help you out there.”

Tré’s head snapped back around, shoulders tense and eyes locked on Brandon’s. Brandon didn’t blink, hoping that his longtime partner would finally see through his teasing to what he was really trying to say. But after a moment, Tré relaxed and gave him a lopsided smile.

“Funny. What are you gonna do, send some fan a DM and ask them if they want to hook up with me?”

Brandon’s face felt frozen, but he managed a smile of his own. “Yeah, I’ll just slide into the DMs of the cutest fanboy I see on Twitter.”

Now Tré laughed. “Like you know what’s cute.”

“I’m hurt that you don’t trust my ability to know what you like.”

Tré’s smile softened. “I trust you.”

Brandon’s stomach swooped at the gently curved lips and sparkling dark eyes of that smile. He hesitated for a second, trying to decide if now was the time. Confessing his feelings in the middle of a gym wasn’t ideal, but he’d been hinting and hoping for over a year. And time was running out. His heart pounding, Brandon tried to think of the best thing to say. Hints hadn’t worked so far. Should he blurt it out? Or maybe asking Tré to step outside for some privacy was the way to go in case his revelation lead to an embarrassing rejection. He stared up at Tré, his heart in his throat, sweat that had nothing to do with his workout trickling down his spine.

A small frown creased Tré’s brow. “Is everything okay?”

With a defeated mental sigh, Brandon punked out. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Tré nodded in sympathy. “I understand that. Those three days home are never long enough.”

Before Brandon could respond, Slade came over. The wrestler’s long black hair gleamed under the fluorescent lights as he struck up a conversation with Tré. Frustrated, and wanting to punch himself for being afraid, Brandon moved on to the next machine.

***
Later that night, Tré waited in the backstage area of the New Orleans arena with Brandon. Their tag match against The Black River Boys was up in a few minutes. As always, he and Brandon were dressed in nearly identical outfits. They both wore candy apple red trunks with Pittsburgh Power Machine in shiny black and silver lettering across the ass. Their black sleeveless hoodies had their individual names on the back, with PPM in shimmering red and silver stitched over the left breast. The only difference in gear was their footwear. Tré wore traditional calf-high lace-up boots, while Brandon preferred knee-length kick pads over wrestling shoes.

Tré had seen Brandon in their brief wrestling costume hundreds of times over the three years they’d tagged together. But he still admired how amazing his partner looked. His bare arms glistened with oil under the lights, the muscles in his biceps sharp and defined. And his thighs… Tré stared, watching the muscles flex under smooth skin as Brandon went through his pre-match stretches. His feet spread wide, Brandon bent at the waist, arms extended along his legs to grip his ankles. Tré didn’t outwardly react to the unintentionally provocative pose, but in his head, it was basically a parade of panting, drooling heart-eye gifs.

He didn’t want to perv on his partner. So, while he might look when Brandon didn’t see him, he’d never do or say anything to make him uncomfortable. And that was why he could never speak up about his feelings for his friend. Coming on to him could jeopardize their friendship, and Tré didn’t want that. He’d rather hide his attraction than do anything to risk losing Brandon in his work and personal life.

Tré was still staring when Brandon straightened and looked over his shoulder. He grinned when he met Tré’s eye.

“Ready?”

Embarrassed heat crawled up Tré’s neck. “Yep. Let’s do it.” He looked away after answering and tugged his hood up to hide in case his expression betrayed that embarrassment. His face heated further when he caught sight of Chance watching him.

“Smooth,” Chance teased with a grin and a thumbs up.

Tré responded by giving his friend the middle finger. 

Holding back a laugh, Chance pointed at the sound guy to queue up their music, then gave Tré and Brandon the signal to go out.

They went through the curtain and walked down the ramp together, a little swagger to their step as they kept pace with the happy hip-hop beat of their theme song. The music was reminiscent of something that would be played at a summertime barbecue, and it always had the crowd up on their feet and dancing. Brandon pointed at fans in the audience, walking close to the rail to give out high fives. Tré played it cool, letting his partner work the crowd.

In the ring, The Black River Boys, Payne and Gnash, stood waiting. Their long, stringy black hair hung in their eyes as they sneered and watched Tré and Brandon strip out of their ring jackets. Once the Pittsburgh Power Machine music stopped, the ref called for the bell. Tré stepped back through the ropes to stand in his corner, letting Brandon start the match. To get the crowd hyped, Brandon went after Payne with a flurry of kicks, forcing the bigger man to put up his arms in an attempt to shield his face. But both men knew how to work a crowd, and the fans couldn’t cheer for Brandon to climb to victory if he was on top the entire match.

Just when it seemed as though Brandon would win it for them a minute in, Payne came roaring back and slammed into him with a flying tackle. Tré winced as Brandon’s much smaller frame went down hard in the middle of the ring. That landing on canvas stretched over a thin pad with unforgiving plywood beneath would probably bruise his partner’s back.

Brandon rolled to his front, the light catching the sparkling letters on the rear of his trunks as he slapped the mat in frustration. Tré held back his grin when the audience groaned in disappointment at having what looked like a sure victory snatched away. His partner was one of the best at gaining a crowd’s sympathy.

Brandon’s ability to connect with the crowd was one of the many reasons there was no one else in the business Tré would rather tag with. He would never let it show on his face in front of a live crowd—hell, he wouldn’t even let Brandon know—but working with his partner was the best part of his career. He didn’t remember the day it happened, or even the city, but he’d been standing in this exact spot, watching Brandon flip across the ring, wrestling his heart out, when he’d first fallen for him. And every night since then, he’d kept his feelings hidden.

Tré got ready, knowing Brandon was about to make his way to their corner for a tag. He held his hand out for Brandon to slap his palm, then stepped into the ring to have his own go at Payne.

They were fairly evenly matched in size, but Payne wrestled like a berserker while Tré used calculated power moves. He stopped Payne’s wild charge by grabbing him in wrist lock, twisting his arm up behind him and slamming the big man down hard. Payne quickly retaliated, knocking Tré’s legs out from under him with a chop block. They were both on the mat now, and Tré had to struggle to gain the upper hand. He managed it, but when he wasn’t able to get a pin after several minutes of being in control, he tagged Brandon back in to let him have another turn.

Once again, he stood on the ring apron, watching as Brandon worked against Gnash. The bigger man flung Brandon across the ring, where he crashed into the corner turnbuckle. The impact made Brandon stagger backward and fall to the mat. He’d taken a lot of punishment already, and now their opponent ran over and started stomping on him. The crowd erupted in a mix of booing at Gnash and cheering for Brandon to get back to his feet. Brandon rolled, dodging some of the kicks before struggling upright.
Once he made it up to one knee the crowd started cheering even harder. Brandon pushed out at Gnash, making him stumble off balance and giving himself enough room to make it upright. Spinning around, he caught Gnash on the jaw with a high kick. Then Brandon collapsed again, although this time he was facing their corner.

Tré leaned over the ropes, reaching for his tag partner. “C’mon, man! You can make it!”
Brandon lifted his head to look at him and started slowly dragging himself across the ring. As Tré waited for his partner to make it to their corner, he couldn’t help but notice that Brandon was gorgeous, even now with his face flushed from exertion and sweat-damp hair hanging over his forehead. What would Brandon do if Tré were to pull him into his arms, assuring him that he was safe as he stroked his hair back, before he went in and exacted revenged on Gnash and Payne? A fantasy. Too far out there even for kayfabe. Not to mention, Brandon would probably be confused as hell, wondering what Tré was doing. Shaking his head, Tré pushed the ridiculous mental image aside. Brandon hadn’t reached him yet, but Gnash had already made it to his feet. He staggered to the other side to tag his own partner in. 

Brandon looked over his shoulder at the successful tag. His eyes wide, he pushed himself up and made a desperate flying leap for Tré’s outstretched hand. They slapped palms as Payne came charging across the ring. When Payne saw their tag, he abruptly stopped and took a few nervous steps back.

Tré grinned and stepped through the ropes with deliberate slowness. He was fresh and ready to avenge the punishment his partner had taken. Payne narrowed his eyes and came at him. They both went on the offensive, pummeling each other with blows to the jaw and torso. Tré quickly gained the upper hand. He scooped Payne up and tossed him facedown onto his shoulder, holding him across the waist to keep him from escaping. Then he took three running steps forward before he body slammed the man to the mat right in front of his and Brandon’s corner. While Payne was down and stunned, Tré leaned over, tagged Brandon back in, then stepped back to watch as his partner climbed to the top rope. Brandon held an arm across his torso, still selling the beat down from earlier, but he looked determined. He leaped off the top rope, landing on Payne with a leg drop across his chest.

Payne was pinned with both shoulders down, so the ref ran over and slid onto his belly to count it, his palm slapping the mat three times in a row: one, two, three. When he called for the bell, the crowd cheered even louder at their favorites’ victory.
Their theme music blasted throughout the arena as the announcer got on the mic. “Here are your winners, Tré and Brandon, the Pittsburgh Power Machine!”

Gnash and Payne slunk away while Tré and Brandon celebrated their win in the middle of the ring. They gave each other their team handshake: two quick palm slaps, slide, grip, slide, release, snap, forearm bump. 

They rolled to the floor, then went around slapping high fives with everybody sitting ringside. Once they’d made the entire circuit, Tré took Brandon’s arm and slung it over his shoulder so he could help his “injured” partner to the back. The cheers followed them all the way up the ramp, and Brandon gave one last wave before they disappeared from sight.

Behind the curtain, Brandon took his arm from around Tré’s shoulders and rubbed his tailbone. “Fuck, that leg drop. I swear I smush my spine up into my brain every time I do that move.”

Tré looked at his partner with his eyebrows raised. “You what?”

“You know what I mean,” Brandon said with a grin. “It hurts.”

“Sorry, man. Tomorrow night, I’ll make sure to get him up so we can do the Power Tower instead.”

Brandon grabbed Tré’s arm in a hug and fluttered his eyelashes. “Awww, Tré. Thank you. You take such good care of me, making sure I don’t break my ass in the ring.”

Tré rolled his eyes at his partner’s ridiculous teasing. “Shut up and let’s go shower.”
Laughing, Brandon dropped his arm and strolled off ahead. Tré followed behind, admiring Brandon’s smooth walk and the way his sweaty skin gleamed under the lights. Brandon was gorgeous and funny. Tré would give anything for his partner’s teasing to be real so he could take care of him the way he dreamed of doing.

***
After a quick shower and change into street clothes, it was time to hit the road. Brandon shrugged on his backpack while Tré gripped the handle of his rolling suitcase.
“You, ready?”

Brandon nodded. “Yeah, let’s go.”

They walked out of the back of the arena into the warm and humid Louisiana night. As usual, a crowd of fans waited behind the fence that surrounded the parking lot. They waved and yelled for the wrestlers to come over.

“You feel like signing tonight?” Brandon asked his partner.

“Sure.”

They went toward the fence and the fans immediately started cheering. Brandon and Tré took a few selfies, signed whatever was put in front of them, and reached over the fence to high five little kids. Brandon was signing one of their official eight by tens when a fan asked him a question.

“Do you think you guys will ever break up?” 

Brandon calmly raised an eyebrow at the question. They were asked this at least once a week by fans or media. He gave his standard response, accompanied by a mischievous grin. “Why would we go and break up a good thing?” 

The girl smiled at his answer and asked for a picture with them. He and Tré both crowded in, and the girl turned with her back to them and held the phone up so she could get her shot. When she was done, Brandon jumped up on Tré’s back, wrapping his arms around his partner’s shoulders and his legs around Tré’s waist. They were so in tune with each other and Brandon had done this so many times before that Tré didn’t even flinch. He simply adjusted his stance to manage Brandon’s weight, gripping him under one leg with the hand that wasn’t holding his suitcase.

“We’re partners for life,” Brandon said to the fan.

The girl had a comeback ready for him. “Or life partners,” she said with a wink.

Brandon laughed as the girl raised her phone to take another picture. “Let’s go, partner.”

Tré shook his head and headed over to their rental, still carrying him on his back. When he popped the locks open, Brandon hopped down to the ground. He tossed his bag in the trunk after Tré slung his in, then went around to get in the passenger seat. The crowd at the fence hadn’t left yet, as they were hoping for more wrestlers to come over. Brandon waved at them when they pulled out of the parking lot, then settled back into his seat as they hit the highway. 

The first thirty minutes of the drive were quiet. They each needed the time to decompress after the frantic activity of a night at the arena. Eventually Brandon pulled his phone from his pocket. He opened up Twitter first. As expected, his notifications were out of control. He started scrolling through them, stopping when half of a particular picture caught his eye. Brandon pressed his thumb to it to go full screen, snorting a laugh when he read the caption.

“What?”

“That last girl we took pictures with posted them on Twitter already. She got one of me up on your back and captioned it, I ship it.”
Tré laughed too but didn’t take his eyes from the road.

They both knew what shipping was. Fans put wrestlers in fictional romantic relationships and drew fan art and wrote fanfiction about them. As tag team partners, they were probably shipped more than a lot of people on the roster. Brandon took a screen shot of the tweet so he wouldn’t have to look for it later and lowered his phone to his lap. “I’ll show it to you when we stop.”

Tré shook his head. “I’m cool.”

“Who do you think they have as the top in our ship?”

Now Tré took his eyes off the road to glance over at him. “What?”

“In those fics, they normally have one guy as the top. Do you think it’s you or me? It’s probably you since you’re bigger than me.”

“You’re kidding me with this, right?”

“Nope. I could look up a couple of fics and find out.” He brought his phone back up.

“Okay, Google. Tré and Brandon Fanfiction dot net.”

Tré laughed. “Don’t you dare. I don’t think we need to know the answer to that.”

Brandon gave an exaggerated sigh and closed out the Google app that had just opened. “Party pooper.”

“You’re crazy,” Tré said with another laugh. “How about we spend our time coming up with some new moves?”

“We switched to that new finisher not too long ago. Alex probably won’t let us change it so soon.”

“Not a new finish. But maybe something we can use to get the crowd hype in the middle of the match.”

“Let me guess. It’ll be dangerous for me?” In their team dynamic, he was the risk taker and Tré was the power. It worked great and let them play off each other’s strengths in the ring.

“Not really. I was thinking I’d do a powerbomb and you’d come in right after with a frog splash.”

“Sounds good. The power and the excitement. But you know frog splashes hurt to land, right? Oh, what am I saying. Of course, you don’t. You’ve never jumped off anything in your life.”

Tré flashed him a smug grin before he turned back to the road. “That’s right. And I plan to keep it that way.”

It made sense that Tré wasn’t known for flashy, high flying moves. Unlike Brandon’s slim, five-eleven frame, Tré was six-three and two hundred forty pounds of muscle. He wasn’t exactly built to go flying around a wrestling ring. Brandon was fine with that. It was one of the things that made their tag team special; they each had their specialized roles to play. Besides, he liked every single one of Tré’s muscles. Too bad he couldn’t figure out a way to tell him that.

Talking about shipping might have been a way to ease into it. Maybe he could have sneakily led the conversation from their fictional relationship to the possibility of a real one. But Brandon didn’t want to be a creeper bringing up topping and fics again.

He grew quiet, wondering why this was so hard. They were closer than most people’s romantic relationships; he trusted Tré with his body in the ring. Yet saying a few simple words--I’m into you. I like you. Kiss me—were all more terrifying than back flipping off the top rope to land on an opponent.

“No comeback for that? Are you okay?”

Brandon abruptly got out of his head and gave his attention back to his partner. “I’m letting it slide this time. But only because I think a powerbomb-frog splash combo will look pretty cool.”

Tré laughed, and Brandon smiled at the deep rumble of it. He might never work up the nerve to say the words that would win him Tré as his lover, but no matter what happened or where he went, he’d always be glad he had Tré as his friend.

A few hours later, they reached the company’s selected hotel for the night. Tiredness had kicked in for Brandon about thirty miles back, so as soon they were behind the hotel room door, he let his bag drop to the floor and stripped down to his underwear. As he undressed, he listened to the familiar unzipping of luggage and rustling of clothes as Tré settled in on the other side of the room.

Once Brandon was under the covers and the lights were out, he finally relaxed. It felt like he’d been wearing a mask for weeks, trying to keep up the facade that everything was okay when actually he was anxious and nervous. He suspected Tré knew he had something on his mind, but he wasn’t saying anything. And that frustrated him. He wanted, no he needed his partner to speak up. Because he had a decision to make, and it needed to be made soon.
Thank you for reading! In His Corner will be available on Amazon, Apple,                Barnes & Noble and Kobo April 10, 2018.

Love,
Christa
Visit my website: www.ChristaTomlinson.com
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