Kurt led Van Heel back out to the street. It did feel cooler out here. What were the odds that Van Heel would accept it if Kurt turned to him and said, Hey, you know what, I’d actually like to get to know you a little bit beyond the fact that you didn’t think about any options beyond a military life and you’re sensitive about that before I let you put your dick in me?

Slim to none. Kurt tried that once, a long time ago. It wasn’t as though he wasn’t attracted to Van Heel, and Elisa did know what she was doing. There were almost certainly paparazzi around here somewhere, waiting to catch a glimpse of Kurt walking with Van Heel or going into the hotel with Van Heel or getting into his car or something. You simply can’t go to ground for months while you’re working on a project, Kurt. I’ll just take care of everything, and you sit back and enjoy the ride.

It had worked so far, he had to admit. His name never left the gossip column for more than a couple of weeks. He caught sight of a couple of cameras, lenses reflecting the street lights as their owners hid in the bushes, and he pulled Van Heel in close.

Van Heel’s eyes widened, and he grinned. “Someone’s eager.”

Right now, Kurt was feeling anything but eager. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt Van Heel’s feelings, though, so he leaned in close to Van Heel’s ear. “If you don’t want your face all over the latest teen magazine,” he warned, “I suggest you kiss me, or pretend to.”

Van Heel tried to pull back. “Wait, what?”

“Behind you.” Kurt ran a hand along Van Heel’s arm. The paparazzi would think it was foreplay. “Two of them.” He struggled to remember analog clock positions. “Um, five and seven.”

Van Heel’s eyes widened, but he leaned in and touched his forehead to Kurt’s. “For real?” he whispered. “How did they know you’d be here?”

“Elisa, most likely.” He molded himself to Van Heel’s body, and damn it, he should have kept his mouth shut. At least he could have had a halfway decent night of it. Maybe. Van Heel’s body was warm, and it was solid. He would probably feel amazing just cuddled up against him in the morning. “She’s got a way about her.”

Van Heel frowned down at Kurt. “Are you sure this is a good idea? Did she set this up?” he waved his hand between them. “For the paparazzi, I mean?”

It would be easy to back out now, to tell Van Heel the full truth and walk away. The words danced on the tip of Kurt’s tongue, begging for release. He ignored them. The time wasn’t right. He hadn’t earned enough to make up for everything stolen from him. He still needed to make enough to retire to England, permanently. He had to depend on the studios, still. He wasn’t there yet.

“She did set the whole thing up. And she probably did it for the paparazzi. I won’t pretend I’m thrilled about them. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a good time.”

Van Heel’s body tensed, and Kurt could feel it. He didn’t like the setup, and Kurt couldn’t blame him one bit. Still, Van Heel’s desire hadn’t gone away. Kurt could feel that, too, right there against him. Which side would win out, his pride or his need?

“Yeah, okay. Come on, and hold on. I’m not going to let them Princess Diana us.” Van Heel hesitated, and then he headed toward the parking lot. Kurt had to rush to keep up.

Whatever Van Heel might have thought about the paparazzi, they didn’t come out of their bushes. Kurt might be a celebrity, but he wasn’t a major figure like a royal. If they didn’t get a pic of him with the SEAL on a dark night, they’d get one of him in a lit place with someone else another time.

Sometimes the whole “bad boy” image had its advantages.

He slipped into the passenger seat and pulled the door shut behind him. He’d read, in books and scripts, that sometimes people held doors for each other at times like this. It was probably all macho dominance bullshit anyway, but it still sounded kind of sweet, or protective. It would be nice to have that little touch sometimes, but who was he kidding? It wasn’t in the cards, and he was going to have to live with it.

The ride back to the hotel didn’t take long, and once Van Heel realized they weren’t being followed his driving calmed down. It was kind of nice that he seemed to want to protect Kurt from that, at least. Maybe Kurt was reaching, though. Van Heel just wanted to protect himself.

Van Heel didn’t show anything as they went up the elevator to the top floor of Kurt’s hotel. He didn’t put his hands on Kurt, he didn’t speak to Kurt, and he kept his face perfectly neutral. Like a robot. Kurt sighed internally. Oh well. He hadn’t really expected anything to come of this to begin with. He might as well just get it over with and have a little fun.

Once they got into Kurt’s suite, which looked like every other suite in every other hotel, Van Heel locked the door behind them. “Pretty nice setup you’ve got here.” He took his shirt off right there in the common room. “Do you have stuff, or…”

Kurt smirked. “Yeah, of course. Hang on.” He retreated to the bathroom to find some lube and condoms, which he brought back and put onto the coffee table. Apparently Van Heel wasn’t much for romance. Kurt could deal with that, he guessed. It was better than faking it.

He peeled his own clothes off. He didn’t bother making it slow or sensual. Van Heel didn’t need that stuff, didn’t want that stuff. Looking at Van Heel’s solidly built chest and chiseled abs, Kurt figured he could live without any of that too, at least for the night. “I guess all that working out you boys do has some fringe benefits, doesn’t it?”

Van Heel frowned at him as he fussed with his belt, but then he relaxed his shoulders. “I guess it does. It’s not why we do it, obviously, but yeah. It does tend to work out well for us.”

“Us too.” Kurt wagged his eyebrows and stepped forward. “Here, let me help you with that.” The belt buckle wasn’t that hard to manipulate. Kurt undid it without much trouble and peeled Van Heel’s pants down for him.

His lower half was just as muscular and trim as the top, but his cock made Kurt’s mouth water. Kurt took the opportunity to rub his cheek against it. Yeah, that was nice, long, thick, and cut. He licked a long stripe up the underside, eliciting a hiss from Van Heel.

Van Heel took a big handful of Kurt’s hair. He didn’t pull, and he didn’t use it to force Kurt to take him deeper than Kurt was ready for. That had happened more than once during these little trysts, and Kurt had gotten used to it especially from these macho types, but Van Heel didn’t seem to need that. Instead, he just seemed to need something to hold onto as he closed his eyes and held on.

Who was he imagining here? Who was he pretending Kurt was as Kurt worked him deep into his throat, stretching his lips to take him?

Van Heel couldn’t hold himself back from a few little thrusts, but they weren’t hard or forceful. It was more like he was just rocking his hips, almost reflexively. It was almost pleasant, and Kurt definitely liked the way it helped him keep the rhythm.

Van Heel pulled back, though, before he could finish. “I want to come inside you.” His teeth were clenched with the effort of holding himself back, but he pulled back anyway and fumbled for the lube. “I want it to be good for you too.”

Kurt had been acting his whole life. He knew how to hide and how to dissemble. He was attracted to Van Heel, and Van Heel would probably make a decent screw on any given day. He would, that was, if he were with someone who wanted it. He turned around and presented himself to Van Heel, in the hopes his partner wouldn’t see that he wasn’t all that hard.

It wasn’t Van Heel’s fault, really. Maybe he’d get into it after a little bit.

Van Heel stretched him out well, even if he didn’t take too much time with it. These military guys were probably really into efficiency, and Kurt was just being fussy. He relaxed into it and took what pleasure he could. He turned around to watch as Van Heel rolled the condom on, and then braced himself as Van Heel worked his way inside.

Van Heel was a big guy, and Kurt had to pant his way through it. He liked sex, and he got that this was part of it. He just had to get used to it.

He clenched his teeth and tried to relax and let himself adjust. Before he could say for sure he was ready, though, Van Heel took the initiative and moved. He snapped his hips and slammed them back into Kurt, and then he did it again. And again. He set up a pounding, punishing rhythm, holding Kurt’s hips in place so he couldn’t move.

Kurt buried his face in the couch cushions. He was hot all over, but not because this was particularly good. Van Heel was like a jackhammer, a machine. He didn’t say anything. There was no tenderness in his touch, no affection. He might have been fucking an inflatable doll.

Kurt slipped a hand down to his flaccid cock and moved it around a little. He didn’t think Van Heel was paying enough attention to care, but just in case, he wanted to make it look good. When he thought he’d made enough noise, he pretended to come. He forced his muscles to clench around Van Heel while crying out into the cushions and hoped it would do the trick.

It didn’t. Van Heel was off in his own world. He kept hammering into Kurt, again and again. Finally, after enough minutes that Kurt lost track of time, Van Heel lost the rhythm and released into the condom. He stilled for a moment, and then he pulled carefully out.

He disappeared into the bathroom for a moment. Kurt dropped to the floor, sore as he was, and covered himself with a throw pillow.

Van Heel didn’t look at him as he came out of the bathroom. He walked right over to his clothes and pulled them back on again. “Um, thanks for that. It was amazing.”

Kurt forced a grin on to his face. “Yeah. Thanks. It was.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, I guess?”

“I guess I will.” Kurt waved.

Van Heel nodded once, turned on his heel, and left.

Kurt stayed on the floor for a moment, staring at the wall. Then he forced himself to his feet. Sitting around and feeling sorry for himself wouldn’t help anything.

He locked the door behind Van Heel. He headed back into the suite and into the bathroom, where he stepped into the shower and let an infinite supply of hot water pour down over his aching, miserable body. Elisa had arranged for the very best soaps, shampoos, and whatever the hell else was in the little bottles and trays here on the edge of the tub. Kurt had every intention of using them all tonight.

Sex wasn’t supposed to make him feel dirty.

He understood why that might have been the case years ago, but this was different. He was an adult. He was an omega, too. He was an adult, omega, gay man taking care of his very natural and normal needs. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, damn it. Sure, he’d rather do it some other way, but there wasn’t anything inherently wrong with the way he was doing it now, either.

He didn’t have any other vices. He didn’t smoke. He didn’t do drugs. He didn’t drink. He didn’t even eat much. All he did was have sex, and even that was on someone else’s schedule. Why was it that it made him disposable to men?

He shouldn’t be disappointed in Van Heel. Out of all of the SEALs, Van Heel had been one of the most unwelcoming. Honestly, Kurt shouldn’t have expected him to say yes or even to be willing to have dinner in his presence. Maybe one of the other SEALs would have at least wanted him to be hard, too. Maybe he would have checked or something.

Probably not, though. Kurt knew there must be people out there who were with partners who cared for them, because he saw interviews with them and people kept watching and reading stories about them, but he didn’t know any of them personally. His father had gotten rid of Mum as soon as he found her inconvenient. He hadn’t met a single faithful man in Hollywood, of any orientation.

He knew what to expect, so why did it always feel like he was just someone’s second hand discarded toy every time he had sex?

He got out of the shower once he tried every product in the place. It didn’t make him feel any cleaner, but at least he’d gotten the lube off of his skin. He put a pair of sleep pants on and climbed into his big, ornate, and above all clean bed and pulled the covers up to his chin.

He couldn’t understand why he wanted more from Van Heel than what he’d gotten.

He couldn’t understand it, but that didn’t change the fact that he’d wanted it. He’d hoped a good, traditional Texan would at least try to be a gentleman.

Maybe Van Heel would have tried to be a gentleman, if he’d found someone worth being a gentleman toward. Kurt had seen he was uncomfortable at the thought that Elisa had set the whole thing up, complete with paparazzi. Kurt had gotten used to that sort of thing by now—he wasn’t the only one whose public image got manipulated this way, God no—but Van Heel seemed disturbed by it.

It hadn’t stopped him from wanting to touch Kurt, but that had been all he wanted to do. Like he accepted that sex would happen and didn’t want to put that horse back in the barn, but like the whole thing disturbed him on a deep level.

Well, Kurt couldn’t do anything about it now. Frankly, he earned Van Heel’s disgust when he’d been willing to just allow the sex act to take place. God, he’d become such a freak. He hadn’t even wanted sex tonight, but he’d been willing to let it happen just because Elisa told him to. There was a word for guys like that. He deserved it, even if he wasn’t getting paid directly.

The payoff would be worth it, when he was able to walk away from Hollywood. He’d settle down with Mum, in England. They’d get a place in the country and no one would bother them, ever again. Right now, it hurt. Twenty years from now, he wouldn’t have a care in the world.

* * *

Dom knew he should have backed out the moment he saw those paparazzi. In reality, it hadn’t been the moment he saw the paparazzi. It had been the moment Hollywood molded himself to Dom, all loving, and pointed the paparazzi out to him. How could Dom trust him to actually want the sex if he could use a loving moment just to convey information like that?

Okay, maybe “loving moment” was the wrong way to phrase it. Dom hadn’t been looking for love. He didn’t even like Hollywood. He was attracted to the guy. Everyone in America who was attracted to men, was attracted to the guy. Rocks were attracted to the guy. That didn’t mean he liked him. Dom had seen an opportunity to lie down with a hot guy, and then he’d done it, and that was all there was to it.

Once he realized everything had been set up, he’d mentally written Hollywood off as part of it all. He hated himself for it now, but at the time he hadn’t realized he’d done it. He’d just turned off, mentally and emotionally, and let himself take whatever pleasure felt right. He hadn’t even bothered to put a hand on Hollywood and make sure he got something out of it.

As it turned out, Hollywood hadn’t come. The guy hadn’t complained, he’d even faked it for Dom’s benefit, but Dom figured it out when his post-orgasmic haze cleared. Dom hadn’t even seen him hard. Hollywood wanted to be there about as much as Dom wanted to be stuck babysitting Hollywood.

So why had he gone with him? Why had he agreed to have sex with Dom in the first place?

Dom would be the first to admit he’d gone outside his comfort zone to get busy with someone he’d never dream of having a relationship with. Hollywood was a grown man, who could make his own decisions. Dom wasn’t obligated to sit around and choose for him. He needed to feel less guilty about it and get on with his life.

As he got into his car and drove away from the hotel, the image of that lonely kid sitting on the floor sprang back to his mind. Well, damn it, the kid wouldn’t be lonely if he didn’t keep taking random guys back to his room.

A couple of the guys teased him the next day. Van Heel ignored them. What was he really going to say, anyway? “We had sex, I treated him like a cheap hooker, the end?” Dom wasn’t that guy, and he didn’t want the reminder that he had been that guy last night. He couldn’t wait for Hollywood and Elisa to leave, so he could forget that part of himself had even existed.

Hollywood got to the briefing room fifteen minutes late, as usual. He caught Dom’s eye, but Dom looked away. This wasn’t the time or place, and it wasn’t like what they had was really love in the first place. They’d done something stupid, and the sooner they got over it the better.

Hollywood’s lip curled. He held his head up as he took his usual seat in the back of the room. The hell right did he have to be offended, anyway? Did he think Dom should be falling all over himself like an idiot, just because he had sex with a movie star? For crying out loud, it wasn’t like the guy didn’t give it away to everyone he could.

Dom cringed. The thought was uncharitable, even for him.

DeWitt cleared his throat. “Men, you’ll be thrilled to know we’ve been assigned to a team training exercise in Texas. We leave tomorrow morning.”

Dom perked up. They’d been doing nothing but train since that mess of a bombing in Toulon, but it had mostly been local. A training trip to Texas almost certainly meant the Navy was gearing up to send them overseas soon. It meant they’d be moving on at some point in the near future, getting back to the job they were supposed to be doing instead of sitting around watching an actor stare vapidly at the walls.

It meant Dom wouldn’t have to be confronted with his own shame anymore. That meant a lot to him right now.

Most of the other guys perked up, too. A few of them exchanged uneasy looks.

Kelly raised his hand. “Does this have anything to do with Conley’s apparent suicide, sir?”

Chief cleared his throat and stood up. “Texas is still American soil, despite what some people seem to think. And SEALs have no jurisdiction on American soil. We would not be allowed to investigate crimes there. We’re going there to train in humid, subtropical climates.”

Van Heel narrowed his eyes at that. Huntsville fell into the “humid, subtropical” climate type. He wouldn’t put too much stock into it, though. He wasn’t here to overthink things. He trusted DeWitt and Chief to give the orders and the people above them. He was a good and loyal patriot.

He did raise his hand. “Does this mean the studio folks are heading out, sir?”

Clothing rustled as the whole platoon turned to look at him. In fact, the only person not staring at him was Hollywood, who kept his eyes straight ahead.

Chief stared at him for several seconds before giving a shrug. “I honestly couldn’t say. What do you think, Mr. McNeil? Do you think you’ve got enough of a profile to build your character on?”

Hollywood lowered his gaze for just a second and gave a little smirk. “I think, sir, I’ve learned about as much as I’m going to.”

Sommer smacked the back of Hollywood’s head. “You most certainly have not. Just please let us know where in Texas we should be going, so I can make appropriate arrangements for Mr. McNeil.”

Chief frowned at her. “Ms. Sommer, Mr. McNeil, we won’t be going there for a party junket and a couple of classroom sessions. This is going to be deeply intensive training intended to get us all ready for our next deployment. We aren’t going to have time to sit down and answer questions, hold your little hand, and be sweet to you.”

Sommer’s smile couldn’t have been more condescending if she’d been the goddamn Queen of England. “Chief Boone, I can assure you that Mr. McNeil will be perfectly able to absorb what he needs to absorb without having to have his hand held. The studio’s agreement with the Navy was that he was to have access to everything, and a training exercise would give him the perfect opportunity to understand what your life is really like without him having to go to war.”

“Wouldn’t want to put that pretty little ass of his in real danger,” Robson muttered, with the accompaniment of many dark chuckles.

Something ugly stirred up inside Dom then. He didn’t love Hollywood or even like him. Hearing Robson talk about the guy that way made him see red, though. It didn’t make sense. Sure he’d been buried deep inside that “pretty little ass” last night, but it hadn’t been anything real. He’d run as soon as he’d gotten rid of the condom. He couldn’t be jealous.

He’d been holding a pencil. He broke it in half now, without meaning to.

“Anyway,” Tinker spoke up brightly. “Chief’s right, Hollywood. This isn’t going to be something you want in on, man. If you thought all this was boring, real training out in the field is going to have you in tears.”

Hollywood shrugged. “Be that as it may, evidently the studio thinks it’s a good idea. And they’re paying me, so I’ll go where they tell me.” He yawned, and somehow managed to make it look seductive. “If you can convince them, however, I’ll be more than happy to get out of your hair. I’m aware civilians and omegas aren’t exactly welcome here.”

The other guys exchanged glances. Dom didn’t need to look anywhere. He knew the jibe had been aimed at him. “We don’t have a problem with omegas.” Adami scratched his head. “I mean, they can’t be SEALs, but that doesn’t mean we’ve got a problem with them.”

“My mistake.” He pulled out his phone and apparently used it as a mirror, because he started to fix his hair while he looked at it. “At any rate, if you can convince the studio and the Navy that it isn’t necessary, I’m not going to make a scene.”

Sommer hit him on the back of the head again. These weren’t light taps, either. She wasn’t playing around. “What Mr. McNeil means to say,” she said through clenched teeth, “is that he’s eager to stay and get to know even more about what makes the SEALs a unique and elite force for good in the world.”

Even Dom rolled his eyes at that. She was laying that stuff on with a trowel.

Chief stared at both Sommer and McNeil for a moment, and then he shrugged. “Well, I doubt anything will change between now and tomorrow morning. If you’re going to insist on tagging along, be here at oh-five hundred hours. Don’t be late. Our pilot won’t wait for you.”

“Of course.” Sommer turned the full force of her rictus at Chief and then looked down at the screen on her tablet.

Dom almost felt bad for Hollywood. Then again, the guy was a grown ass man. If he didn’t want to have his life run by this borderline zombie woman, he should get rid of her and make his own decisions.

They went through their usual training regimen that day, but got dismissed half an hour early to spend a little extra time with their families and friends before leaving for Texas. Dom had no idea how long they’d be away. He guessed he didn’t need to care. He’d be away as long as it took, and then they’d come home again.

He tried not to look at Hollywood as he got ready to leave. He didn’t owe the guy anything. He could have said no if he didn’t want anything that had happened last night, and neither of them had said anything about anything beyond a roll in the hay. Still, as he walked past Hollywood standing by himself, waiting for something while his keeper attended to business, he couldn’t help but think Hollywood looked incredibly lonely.

That, well, it made him feel bad. He couldn’t figure out why. It shouldn’t, but it did, and now he had to deal with it.

He shuffled up to Hollywood, hands in his pockets. “Hey.”

Hollywood raised his eyebrows. “Good afternoon.”

“Sorry about that stuff this morning. It wasn’t personal.”

Hollywood’s lips twisted. “Of course.”

Dom scowled. He was definitely the only one working here. Of course, he was the only one who’d left someone he’d just screwed sitting on the floor of a hotel room without a backward glance, too. “Look, about last night...”

Hollywood held up a hand and closed his eyes. “I don’t think there’s much to say, do you? It certainly wasn’t anything personal.”

Dom closed his mouth. “I was going to apologize.”

Hollywood opened his eyes again and tilted his head. “What would either of us have done differently?”

Dom pressed his lips together. “You’re not making this easy.”

Hollywood scoffed. “I’m not sure, exactly, what you want me to make easier. I played my part, you got what you wanted, the transaction was completed. There’s not much more to be said.”

Dom’s hands balled into fists, but he forced them to loosen up. “Oh, come on. You make it sound like you expected something else.”

“You’re reading into it. I didn’t expect anything different from you. It would have been foolish. I knew from the start that you had a very low opinion of me. You haven’t exactly been subtle. I certainly didn’t expect someone who refuses to use my actual name to treat me like anything but a toy.”

“How is it different from the way you’ve let any other man treat you?” Dom stepped closer, getting into Hollywood’s space. He didn’t know whether he wanted to hit him or kiss him, prove that he wasn’t the creep Hollywood made him out to be.

“I didn’t say it was. Quite the opposite, actually.” Hollywood rolled his eyes, impatient. “Did you have a point to all this, Van Heel? Do you want me to cut to the chase for you? ‘I’m not really like that, I’m actually very tender and loving, just with guys I respect.’ There. Did I save us both a little time?”

Dom scowled. “You’re making me sound like some kind of jerk.”

“If it sounds like that to you, then look at your own conscience. It’s obviously something I’ve heard before. I’m not here to ‘fix’ you, Van Heel. Go find someone you can respect, I’m sure you’ll be fantastic.” He gave a thin, tight smile.

“Look, I’m trying to be a gentleman here. Why don’t you like that?” Dom crossed his arms over his chest. His heart thundered in his chest.

“Because you’re not a gentleman, Van Heel. At least not that I’ve seen.” Hollywood looked up to the sky. “Is that what you wanted to hear? Does it give you some kind of weird satisfaction to hear that?”

“You don’t know me well enough to say that. We haven’t even had one conversation, just a one night stand. Which you’d give to anyone.”

“Which means you get to treat me however you like. I get it. I wouldn’t have pursued the issue, if you’d been content to leave me to my own devices. But no, you had to come up and push.”

“Well, I didn’t want you to go off thinking I’m some kind of jerk.” Dom waved his hands.

Hollywood gave a bitter little laugh. “Van Heel, you don’t even respect me enough to check and see if I’m hard before you fuck me. You don’t give me time to adjust, you just go to town, and you walk out as soon as you got rid of the condom. It’s pretty obvious to me that my opinion of you doesn’t matter. So why are you pushing the issue with me? Why does it suddenly matter that I pretend I think you’re any different from any other guy I’ve been with?”

Dom stared at him for a long moment. He couldn’t answer. It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t matter how Hollywood saw him, but it did. “Because I am different.” He stepped back. “I’m nothing like them.”

Hollywood scoffed. “If I had a pound for every guy who said that, I’d have bought my mum that place in the country by now.” He turned on his heel and walked away.

Rage welled up in Dom. How dare this guy, this vacant, preening little Brit, claim Dom was no different than anyone else? Dom was a hero. He defended his country. He saved lives.

But he had treated Hollywood badly. And Hollywood, despite the bitterness with which he spoke about the incident, hadn’t expected any different. The guy had all the fame in the world, and plenty of money, but he expected people to treat him like a toy.

Something was very wrong here.