“He was your dad and you loved him,” August said.
“Well, he fucked me over and I wish I didn’t.”
“From what Marcus said, the only terrible things he’s done are to his omega, and to Dylan,” Ryker said. “Other than that, no one I talked to had anything bad to say about him.”
Steve nodded and looked at his lap, looking like he was about to cry.
Dylan swallowed, feeling helpless in the face of Steve’s sorrow. He wished there was something he could do to make it all better, but there wasn’t.
The plane intercom cracked to life again, and Jennifer’s voice rang out over the speaker. “Gentlemen, we’ve reached cruising altitude. You may remove your seatbelts, though I recommend keeping them on when seated. Please let us know if there’s anything you need.”
“Dylan, maybe Steve would feel better if you went and sat on his lap for a bit,” Ryker suggested, looking between them.
“He doesn’t have to do that,” Steve objected.
“He wants to,” Ryker said, sitting up and leaning forward. “Don’t you, Dylan?”
“Not if he doesn’t want me to.”
“I want you to, just not if you don’t want to,” Steve said.
Ryker grinned. “See?”
Dylan hesitated, feeling awkward, but Ryker neatly solved that by rising out of his seat, reaching down to undo Dylan’s seatbelt, lifting him up and plopping him down on Steve’s lap.
Dylan’s stomach swooped as he went into the air, Ryker holding him under his arms, his hands coming up of their own accord to hold on to Ryker’s biceps as the alpha lowered him into position.
“There you go,” Ryker said, patting his shoulder before going back to his seat.
Dylan sat frozen for a second, his groin tingling from the abrupt manhandling. Steve sat equally stiff and frozen beneath him, his hands by his sides and not touching Dylan at all. Dylan looked up over his shoulder. “We don’t have to-”
Steve wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tight, burying his face in Dylan’s hair and breathing him in with deep, shuddering breaths.
“I want to,” he mumbled.
Dylan relaxed into the embrace, his legs dangling on either side of Steve’s thighs, the alpha holding him so tight that he almost couldn’t breathe.
He placed his hand on top of Steve’s arms, tracing the cuff of his dress shirt where it poked out from underneath his suit jacket. Moving his fingers lower, he felt along the back of Steve’s hand, making the alpha shudder.
Something under Dylan’s ass twitched, the movement making both Dylan and Steve freeze.
“Sorry about that,” Steve said, his voice rough.
“It’s okay,” Dylan said, wriggling a bit to get comfortable. Steve let out a grunt and Dylan froze again, realizing what he’d been doing and how it could be perceived.
“Sorry, I wasn’t trying to-”
“Wasn’t trying to do what?” Ryker cut him off. “Dylan, what are you doing?”
“He’s wriggling,” Steve said, his voice rough. “Right on my fucking cock.”
He pushed his face back into Dylan’s hair and inhaled, his cock twitching against Dylan’s ass even though Dylan definitely wasn’t moving now.
“I wouldn’t mind if the two of you wanted to put on a show,” August said. Dylan glanced over and made eye contact with him, and August responded by smirking and spreading his legs, slouching back in his seat and rubbing over his crotch with the palm of his hand.
Dylan’s stomach clenched with arousal.
“What kind of show?” Steve asked, sounding interested but not sold.
