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The room smelled like old dust and rain. It always did when they ended up here, in this anonymous safe house that Cir used when business in the city got too hot. The sheets were cheap cotton, the mattress too soft in the middle, but none of that mattered. Not when Cir’s mouth was on his, hot and demanding and exactly the same as Phu remembered.
Phu kissed him back, a helpless, hungry sound escaping his throat. His hands fisted in Cir’s dark shirt, holding on like he was drowning. This was a mistake. A catastrophic mistake that he's going to regret. Every logical part of his brain screamed at him to shove the alpha away, to run out the door and never look back. But his body, starved for this for so long, wouldn’t listen. It melted under Cir’s weight, arching up into the solid, familiar heat of him.
They were both still dressed. Cir had pinned him to the bed the moment the door closed, his kiss swallowing Phu’s gasp of surprise. Now, one of Cir’s legs was wedged between his, the rough denim of his jeans a delicious friction against Phu’s thighs. Cir’s hand was splayed on Phu’s ribcage, under the loose hem of the baggy, worn-out band t-shirt Phu lived in these days. It was safer. It hid things.
Phu’s thoughts were a frantic, scattered mess. He can’t know. He can’t. Just don’t let him touch lower. Don’t let him feel. He poured every ounce of that desperation into the kiss, trying to distract them both, to keep Cir’s attention firmly on his mouth, his neck, anywhere but…
Cir’s mouth left his, trailing wet, open-mouthed kisses down his jaw to his throat. Phu whimpered, his head falling back, baring his neck in instinctive submission. He felt Cir smile against his skin. “Missed this,” Cir rumbled, his voice a low vibration that went straight to Phu’s core. “Missed you. Where the hell have you been, Phu?”
“Around,” Phu breathed, the lie bitter on his tongue. He’d been in a tiny apartment two towns over, doing everything in his power to stay out of sight; exhausted and exhilarated and terrified, learning how to be someone’s everything.
Cir didn’t press. He was too busy reclaiming territory. His hand, still under Phu’s shirt, began to move. It slid down, over the flat plane of Phu’s stomach—softer, different—and Phu froze. But Cir just hummed, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin beside Phu’s navel. “Still so responsive,” he murmured, and his hand cupped Phu’s hip.
It was an innocent touch. A loving touch. But it was the touch that would undo everything.
Phu’s hips had always been slim. Boyish. Now, they curved. They were wider, fuller, a permanent testament to what they had created. The baggy shirt hid it when he stood, but lying down, under the possessive spread of an alpha’s hand, there was no hiding the new, gentle swell. Cir’s fingers stilled. His mouth stopped its journey along Phu’s collarbone. For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of their ragged breathing. Phu’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird trying to escape.
Slowly, so slowly, Cir’s hand smoothed over the curve. He traced the new shape, his touch turning from passionate to searching. He palmed the rise of Phu’s hip, his thumb digging in slightly at the dip of his waist, now more pronounced than before. He did it again on the other side, mapping the changes.
Phu squeezed his eyes shut. Please don’t ask. Please just kiss me again. Please don’t think.
“Phu,” Cir said, and his voice had changed. The lust was still there, thick and dark, but underneath it was something else. Something sharp and aware. He didn’t wait for an answer. He pushed himself up on one elbow, looking down at Phu. His dark eyes, usually glinting with mischief or danger, were intense, searching. With his other hand, he gripped the hem of Phu’s shirt.
“No,” Phu whispered, his hands coming up to stop him, but it was a weak, token resistance. Cir ignored it. He pulled the soft cotton up, baring Phu’s stomach and chest to the cool air of the room. Phu shivered. He watched Cir’s eyes travel over him. He saw the exact moment Cir took in the subtle, silvery lines that feathered the sides of his still-soft belly. They were faint, but they were there. Love marks, the nurse at the clinic had called them. To Phu, they were evidence. To Cir, they were a map to a truth he had no business knowing.
Cir’s gaze lifted to Phu’s face. His expression was unreadable. “Look at you,” he said, his voice impossibly quiet.
Then his head dipped. He didn’t kiss Phu’s mouth. He pressed a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the center of his stomach, right over the place that had once housed a life. A tremor wracked Phu’s entire body. A sob caught in his throat, but it came out as a broken moan. This was what he had craved, in the deepest, loneliest hours of the night during his pregnancy. This specific touch, this specific scent, this specific man. To be cherished. To be claimed. To not be alone.
Cir’s hands made quick work of their remaining clothes. It wasn’t the frantic, tearing hurry of their past encounters. It was methodical, deliberate, as if he was unveiling something precious. When they were both bare, skin to skin, Cir paused again, just looking. His hands roamed over Phu’s body, relearning every inch, cataloging every change. The fuller thighs, the rounder backside, the chest that was just… different.
Phu couldn’t stand it. The reverence in his touch was worse than anger. It was breaking him. He reached for Cir, pulling him down, needing to drown in the sensation before the reality sank in for them both. “Alpha, please,” he begged, his voice ragged. “Don’t stop. Just… don’t stop.”
Cir obliged. He kissed him, deep and consuming, as he settled between Phu’s thighs. He was hard, thick and heavy against Phu’s stomach. The feeling was so intensely familiar it brought tears to Phu’s eyes. Cir reached between them, his fingers slick with the natural slickness Phu’s body was already producing for him, always for him, and guided himself to Phu’s entrance.
He pushed in slowly. Torturously slowly. Phu cried out, his nails biting into Cir’s shoulders. It had been so long. Not since the night they’d conceived. His body had changed, had stretched and healed, and now it was stretching again, accommodating the alpha in the most intimate way possible. It burned, a sweet, glorious ache that felt like coming home.
“That’s it,” Cir murmured against his lips, his breath hot. “Take me, baby. All of me.” He sank in to the hilt, and they both groaned, a duet of perfect, agonizing reunion. For a moment, Cir didn’t move, just buried inside him, his forehead resting against Phu’s. Phu could feel the frantic beat of Cir’s heart against his own chest.
Then he began to move.
It was a deep, rolling rhythm, each thrust punching the air from Phu’s lungs and drawing a sharp, pleasured gasp back in. It was hard, claiming, possessive—Cir was stamping himself back onto Phu’s soul with every drive of his hips. But it was also tender. His hands cradled Phu’s face, his thumbs wiping away the tears that leaked from the corners of Phu’s eyes. He kissed him softly between breathless, hungry kisses. It was a devastating combination. This was the man who led the most feared gang in the City, whose hands could be so cruel, being impossibly, beautifully gentle with him.
The room filled with their sounds. The slap of skin, the creak of the cheap bed, Cir’s low grunts, Phu’s high, desperate whines. And their scents. Cir’s rich alpha scent of gunpowder and mint wrapped around Phu, seeping into his pores. It was safety and threat all at once. And Phu’s own omega scent, always sweet like honeysuckle, now carried the undeniable, milky sweetness of a nursing mother. It was the scent of new life, of vulnerability, and it poured from him, mingling with Cir’s in the humid air. He couldn’t hide it. It was as much a part of him now as his own heartbeat.
Cir’s rhythm stuttered. He buried his face in the crook of Phu’s neck, inhaling deeply. A rough, shuddering breath shook his frame. He knew. Of course he knew. Any alpha would recognize that scent. It was biology. It was fact. He didn’t say anything. He just fucked Phu harder, deeper, as if he could drive the truth out through sheer physical force. One hand tangled in Phu’s hair, gripping tight, not enough to hurt, but enough to claim. His mouth found Phu’s ear, his lips brushing the sensitive shell.
“Where is my baby?”
The words were a hot, dark whisper, directly into his brain. Phu’s eyes flew open. A bolt of pure, undiluted fear shot through him, colder than any pleasure. He shook his head, a frantic little motion, and whined, pushing his hips up to meet Cir’s thrusts, begging for more, for a distraction, for the world to just disappear back into this moment. Cir growled, a low, dangerous sound. He shifted his weight, changing the angle, hitting a spot that made Phu see stars and cry out. His other hand came up, calloused fingers finding and pinching one of Phu’s nipples. They were so sensitive now, always swollen, always ready for the pup that meant everything to Phu to feed from. A sharp jolt of pleasure-pain made Phu arch off the bed.
Then Cir dipped his head and took the peaked bud into his mouth.
He suckled, hard. And the taste… the taste was unmistakable. Rich, sweet omega milk, thin and perfect. Cir made a sound against his skin, a deep, almost pained groan of confirmation. He suckled again, drinking from him, and the sensation was so profoundly erotic, so deeply connected to the secret part of his life, that Phu sobbed, his body convulsing.
Cir released his nipple with a wet pop, his lips glistening. He was breathing hard, his thrusts becoming more urgent, more possessive. His mouth was back at Phu’s ear.“Where’s my pup, baby?" he growled. "Tell me. Tell Alpha."
Phu couldn’t speak. He was a mess of overwhelming sensation—the dizzying pleasure of being filled, the terror of discovery, the shocking intimacy of being tasted that way. He just shook his head again, tears streaming down his temples into his hair. Cir’s control snapped. With a final, brutal thrust, he slammed home, knotted them together with a force that locked Phu in place, and came with a roar that was half triumph, half fury. Phu followed him over the edge, his own climax tearing through him, white-hot and shattering, his silent scream lost in the skin of Cir’s shoulder.
For a long time, there was only the sound of their heaving breaths and the frantic pounding of their hearts. Cir’s weight was heavy and comforting on top of him. As the knot began to soften, Cir rolled them carefully to their sides, not letting go, keeping Phu tucked tight against his chest. He nuzzled into Phu’s hair, his breathing gradually slowing.
Exhaustion, deeper than any Phu had ever known, pulled at him. The emotional whiplash, the physical intensity, it was too much. His eyes fluttered shut. The last thing he felt was Cir’s arms tightening around him, and the soft press of lips against his sweaty temple.
***
Phu woke to grey dawn light filtering through the grimy window. He was warm. He was held. For one blissful, disoriented moment, he thought it was the baby, curled against his chest. Then memory crashed back in.
He was in Cir’s arms. The alpha was still asleep, his face relaxed in slumber, the harsh lines of danger smoothed away. He looked younger. Handsome. Phu’s heart ached with a love so fierce and stupid it felt like a sickness. He studied him, tracing the strong line of his jaw, the curve of his lower lip, the dark fan of his lashes against his cheeks. This was what he had dreamed of. Waking up beside him. Having a family with him. A safe, quiet family.
But Cir's family was his gang. His life was bullets and territory and blood feuds. The tiny, perfect being sleeping in a borrowed crib across town would be a target. A weakness. A pawn. Phu had seen the world Cir lived in. He would not let his child become a part of it.
Regret, cold and sharp, coiled in his stomach. He shouldn’t have come. Last night had been a moment of profound weakness. He’d been lonely, and scared, and oh so tired, and Cir had been there, a beacon of everything he craved. But it was a fantasy. A beautiful, temporary fantasy.
Very carefully, moving inch by inch, he extricated himself from Cir’s embrace. The alpha murmured in his sleep, his arm reaching across the empty space, but he didn’t wake. Phu stood on trembling legs, gathering his clothes from the floor. He dressed quickly, his eyes never leaving Cir’s sleeping form. Every piece of clothing felt like armor going back on.
He should just go. Slip out the door and vanish back into the shadows of his new, small life.
But he couldn’t. Not without…
He padded back to the bedside. He leaned down, his heart in his throat, and brushed his lips against Cir’s. It was a feather-light touch, a stolen breath. An apology. A goodbye.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, the words barely audible. "I love you, Alpha."
Then he turned and left, closing the door with a soft, final click.
the moment the door was locked, Cir’s eyes opened. They were clear, alert, and held no trace of sleep. He had woken the moment Phu had tensed in his arms. He had felt the regret in the stiffening of his muscles. He had let him go, waiting, listening. He lifted his hand to his lips, where the ghost of Phu’s kiss still lingered. Then he turned his head, inhaling deeply. The sheets smelled overwhelmingly of them—of sex, of his own claim, and of Phu. Of honeysuckle and fresh, sweet milk.
His baby was out there. His omega was running.
He sat up, the sheets pooling around his waist. The game had changed. The last fourteen months of radio silence, of Phu vanishing into thin air, made sense now. The wider hips, the silver marks, the milky scent… it all painted a perfect, undeniable picture. Phu had had his pup. And he had hidden it from him. A cold fire ignited in Cir’s chest. Possessiveness, sharper than any he’d ever known, gripped him. That was his family. His omega. His child. And Phu thought he could just kiss him goodbye and run?
He threw the covers back and stood, a man on a new mission. The softness from the night before was gone, replaced by the focused intensity of the gang leader. He dressed with quick, efficient movements, his mind already working, plotting, calculating. Phu was scared. That was why he ran. He thought Cir’s world was too dangerous for a child. He would learn. Cir would build a fortress around them. He would burn anyone who even looked at them sideways. He would show Phu that the most dangerous place for them was anywhere away from him.
He pulled out his phone, scrolling to a contact he hadn’t used in months. He needed information. He needed eyes all over the city. He needed to find a single, frightened omega who smelled of honeysuckle and milk, and who was caring for a very specific, very important child.
As he strode out of the safe house, the early morning city air cool on his face, one thought echoed in his mind, a relentless, driving beat.
I’m coming for what’s mine.