At least, unless Mal asked for it to happen.
Do I really need to go through with IVF?
The thought crept into his mind, unwelcome. The family Mal wanted and the relationship he’d been craving had always been mutually exclusive, and they had to remain that way. He didn’t want to trap Vincent. Trying to have a baby with a man he barely knew was a terrible idea. The morality of it disagreed with Mal on a fundamental level, and even if it hadn’t, the legal complications were too numerous and complex…
Vincent spoke, tearing him from his problematic thoughts. “I’m glad. I was hoping that I’d get to see you again before the reception ended.”
Outside the storage closet, there was no dim lighting to hide Mal’s aged skin, but Vincent didn’t seem to notice. Mal didn’t notice flushed cheeks or slurred words, either—could he be sober? Hope twisted in Mal’s heart, but he didn’t trust it not to leave him disappointed. He’d never been lucky in love, and with someone as young and handsome as Vincent, it was more of a pipedream than ever.
But it wasn’t love, was it?
Vincent was going home, and Mal would stay behind.
“I realized I didn’t get to say goodbye properly,” Vincent continued. The kind smile on his face was nuanced by the affection in his eyes, and it made the hope in Mal’s chest loop over onto itself, like a string twisted too tightly. “It was a pleasure meeting you. I hope that maybe someday, our paths might cross again.”
Then, gently, Vincent cupped Mal’s cheek and stole a sweet, chaste kiss from his lips.
The hope twisted in Mal’s heart unfurled all at once, unleashing itself like a bullet from the chamber of a gun—with a red-hot explosion, startling intensity, and lethal consequences. Mal’s knees went weak, and before he knew what he was doing, he’d wrapped his arms around Vincent’s neck and deepened the kiss a thousandfold.
Vincent wasn’t in Aurora to stay, but tonight, Mal needed to feel like he was wanted—like his dreams were possible, despite how long it had taken him to find the strength to achieve them on his own. He was an independent man who’d conquered life despite having suffered its injustices for years. He’d triumphed despite multiple struggles. He deserved to feel desired, and he deserved to bring an alpha to bed tonight, no strings attached.
There was hooting from across the banquet hall.
“Fuck yeah, xV!” someone shouted. “Get in there!”
Vincent chuckled against Mal’s lips, and Mal felt him grin. Then, to Mal’s surprise, Vincent wrapped his arms around Mal’s waist and tugged him closer. The kiss deepened, and Mal hummed with delight. He rooted his hands in Vincent’s hair as his cock started to stir.
One night. One alpha who’d proved himself to be more than a selfish jerk. One moment of indiscretion.
Mal was ready.
“I don’t want to say goodbye yet,” Mal whispered against Vincent’s lips, barely breaking from the kiss to speak. “Take me home and say goodbye to me in the morning.”
Vincent didn’t reply with words. The sound that escaped him was an enchanted sound, partway between wonder and arousal, like he couldn’t believe that Mal would want him. Mal couldn’t understand it. Vincent was handsome and kind—who in their right mindwouldn’twant to go home with him?
The question fled Mal’s mind when Vincent kissed him all over again. Why did it matter? Tonight, Vincent was his. What they shared didn’t have to mean anything more. Mal would make his own dreams come true in his own time. It didn’t mean that he couldn’t have fun while he built his future one brick at a time.
And the brick he’d lay tonight? Mal grinned into the kiss, seconds away from a laugh. It would leave him sweaty and breathless, but god, was it going to be fun.
8
Vincent
Arousal rose as thick as smoke inside Vincent, fogging his head and filling him with its thick, billowing presence. It smoldered in his groin, too choked to burn, yet hot enough to melt Vincent’s defenses. By the time he found the self-restraint to pull away from the kiss, his hands had wandered from Mal’s lower back to his ass.
Mal wanted him to take him home.
The thought of being desired—selected—inflated Vincent’s sense of worth. The rush of adrenaline was secondary only to the power the kiss had brought him. Mal, who was old enough to know what and who he wanted, had decided that Vincent was his. Vincent would give him what he wanted.
Nothing pleased him more.
“xV!” Harley laughed from the bar, feeding off Knot’s earlier catcall. “You’re as bad as Gwynn! I love it!”
“I thought I smelled omega on him,” Knot replied. Vincent was too busy with Mal to see his face, but he imagined Knot was smirking. “That sly dog stole away with a certain someone special earlier in the evening. No wonder he wanted to lay low. He was probably laying a bunch of other places, too. It’s always the quiet ones, right?”
“Your friends are hilarious,” Mal whispered, a hint of sarcasm in his voice. Vincent chuckled. “Do you want to go say goodbye?”
“Yeah.” Vincent stole one last brief, intoxicating kiss, then turned his head to look at the bar. Knot had turned his chair around so his back was to the bar. He rested his elbows on the counter. Harley was swinging back the last of his beer, but turned when Vincent looked his way. “I’m heading out, guys. Have a drink at the after-party in my honor, okay?”
