As the time on the clock neared six, I figured that it was time to get started towards the "date" that I had with Samuel at Moo 'N Booze. It was a nice night out, full of the cicadas and crickets vying for dominance in the "who could be louder on this summer night" competition. So far the cicadas were winning, but as someone who had been trapped in a summer camp cabin with an angry cricket, I definitely wasn't counting them out quite yet.

Since it was a nice night, I was determined that I was going to go ahead and walk to the tavern. Walking was a great idea because it made me focus on where I wanted to go, and prevented me from driving around in a continuous circle as I mulled over all of the poor life choices that had brought me to this point in time.

Before I left, I carefully checked my reflection in the mirror. I'd spent not one, but three hours in the gym today, pushing my body towards near exhaustion. Maybe that wasn't the best choice, but it was definitely the choice that I had decided on, thanks to the ongoing bundle of nerves that had been brought on by my meeting with my ex the day before at Kinkee Sensation Studios.

After leaving gym this morning, I'd spent most of the day doing some preliminary press for the upcoming championship. The sponsors thought I had a really "photogenic" face, according to Kamal, and loved putting me on as many trade magazines as possible.

It was a wild experience, doing all of that press, then coming back to such a small and uncomfortable apartment. Each bit of press I did reminded me that I could definitely afford to live somewhere else.

I wondered how I was going to explain my current living conditions to Samuel. I bet he still lived in the same house that we had shared, before he'd cheated on me. I bet it was still completely color-coded in every single room and that every item in the house matched every other item in the house perfectly.

Meanwhile, what did I have to show for my three championships, beyond my pride?

Ignoring the lingering feeling of failure that was gnawing in my gut, I slid on a pair of tight jeans and a dark green t-shirt. I wasn't a big fan of wearing t-shirts; I preferred my loose hoodies and my sweatshirts. Even in hot Raleigh summers, I'd take the feel of a hoodie over t-shirts.

But Samuel had always had a weak spot for t-shirts.

Was I trying to impress Samuel? God, I hoped not. There was literally no reason to impress him. He was the reason that we had broken up, I reminded myself. That was a very vital piece of information, and I wasn't going to get distracted from it.

Giving my lonely apartment one more look as I picked up my keys, I sighed at the sadness of my place. I looked like I should still be eating ramen out of the same cup every night, instead of like I was a magazine headlining champion.

Trying to ignore the particular twist in my gut, I walked out into the night air and closed the door behind me. At 6:15, the sun wasn't quite setting, but was thinking about completing the task. To the east, the horizon was full of skyscrapers of various sizes. Nestled between those buildings were my gym and the HIT's management offices. But above those tall imposing buildings was a brilliant blue sky, with subtle shades of purple starting to peek into the clouds as a way of welcoming the setting of the sun.

It was beautiful, and I had to quelch the memory of sitting on Samuel's lap after he'd gotten off work, while we'd watched the sunset occur together.

I was lost enough in thought as I walked that I almost didn't notice the gang of people gathering up behind me. But walking around in downtown Raleigh wasn't common enough that their appearance could go unseen, so fortunately, I definitely noticed when the gang of two became a gang of three, which in turn became a gang of four.

Four random men in dark hoodies and sunglasses walking behind me? With this occurring in the middle of the day? My internal alarm bells began to go off immediately, so I carefully crossed the side of the road, to see if my suspicions were correct.

The men followed me.

My heart began to race, not necessarily out of fear. I was a fighter, after all. Those men following me kicked in the same type of reflexes that I had each time I stepped into the ring with my opponent. Was that supposed to be fight or flight?

Unfortunately for my opponent, whenever a fight presented itself, I didn't really believe in flight. It was fight, one hundred percent of the time – as long as we weren't talking about bad break-ups.

Turning around, I faced my four would-be attackers head-on.

They stopped abruptly, and I took time to note that the streets were pretty empty. That made sense. It was dinner time, and most families in Raleigh were conditioned to go straight home right after work and have dinner with their families. I'd moved here in eighth grade, and that aspect of southern culture had definitely been the strangest to get used to, because we didn’t operated that way in Rhode Island.

"Something I can do for you boys?" I asked.

I was looking at four almost identical skinny pale kids. Well, in fairness, they all looked older than me, so they probably weren't kids. But none of them looked like they had ever picked up a weight in their life, so their ages and intelligence levels were not completely matching.

The palest of the bunch stepped forward, his chest puffed out in the same way that only the most naive and inexperienced of MMA fighters would ever do.

I sighed. This wasn't even going to be a good challenge.

"Yeah, Mister Deep Pockets," the leader said. "You could give us your wallet, and share some of that wealth you get from all those fancy magazine covers you got these days."

"But I worked hard for it, boys," I said warmly. "You know, fighting my way to the top. Think I'm gonna keep it."

I did remind them that they shouldn't test me. Nobody could claim otherwise.

But the poor bastards didn't listen to me, and the leader unwisely threw the first punch, which I ducked easily, before coming back up with a punch of my own, which knocked him flat out onto his back.

At that sound, the rest of the group flew into the fight. The problem wasn't with their skill, it was with sheer numbers. Under normal circumstances, none of them would have gotten in so much as a solitary punch. But with numbers on their side, I did feel their fist connect with my face twice.

Still, I thought that I was taking pretty good care of myself by the time that the cop car showed up, indicating that our little brawl had definitely interrupted someone's southern dinner. That was fair. Not everybody loved dinner with a show. Four unconscious bodies to my bloody nose and black eye was going to look a little suspicious, though.

I glanced at my watch and sighed. I was definitely going to be late to greet Samuel at Moo 'N Booze.

It was 7:30 by the time that the police report had been filed and I was able to make it to the front door of Moo 'N Booze. By the time I got there, I could see Samuel heading to the parking lot with a doggie bag under his arm.

Cursing underneath my breath, I broke into a jog.

"Samuel!" I shouted. "Samuel, wait up!"

He was already at his car door by the time he turned around, but he waited until I caught up to him.

He raised both eyebrows as he took in my appearance.

"What happened to you?" he asked. "You stop to try for a match along the way here? Those don't look like your fighting clothes."

His gaze was long and appraising as it swept over me, and I suppressed a shudder. Had a simple inquisitive look from him actually been able to affect me that strongly? Or was it a lingering effect from the events of yesterday?

"I didn't have a match," I explained. "A few guys decided to try to mug me for some easy cash on my way there."

"Are you all right?" Samuel answered.

He took a step towards me, and then took a step back. It was easy to see his need to express concern warring with his need to maintain boundaries.

I wasn't okay at all. Pastel pink with khakis was a cruel trick of an outfit to play against my hormones, when I was trying to resist the charms of an ex, yet there Samuel was, wearing them and ignoring how cruel it was against me.

"I am. I mean. I know I'm late but I still really wanted to talk to you. About yesterday."

I cringed internally at my own comments. Of course it was about yesterday. What else was it going to be about? Was I suddenly going to say, "Hey, remember that time that you cheated on me? What was that about?"

Samuel extended his arm with the food baggie in it towards me. I hesitated slightly, but took the offering.

"If you want to come back to the house, I can get you patched up," Samuel offered. "And you can eat while we talk."

Maybe I should have said no. That might have been the sensible thing to do.

Then again, MMA fighters and champions weren't exactly known for doing the sensible thing.

"Sure," I said.

As I got into the car, I noted that it was the exact same car that Samuel had driven two years ago. Based on the prices that I had paid for a session at Kinkee Studio, I knew that he had to be able to afford a newer car.

It appeared, then, that I wasn't the only one stuck in a rut since our break-up. Leaning back into the car seat, I tried not to take too much pleasure from that knowledge. But it was good to know that I wasn't pathetic on my own.

"So," I began as we drove. "How long have you had your current job?"

Job sounded like a weird thing to call what he did for a living these days, but sitting in a car with my ex was awkward enough without being forced to sit in silence.

There was another awkward pause in the car as Samuel considered answering my question. At least, that was what I assumed his problem was. I fiddled with the doggie bag on my lap, and hope he had ordered the beer cheese sticks. They weren't exactly championship fighter nutritionist approved, but they were great, regardless.

"For about two years," he explained finally.

"What made you quit the old job?" I asked. "I thought you were pretty happy at the call center. Being a manager seemed to really suit you."

Was it the affair? I wondered. Maybe the affair with the co-worker hadn't worked out very well, and he'd ended up having to quit out of shame. I hoped that was it. But maybe that was unnecessarily petty.

"Bigots," Samuel said shortly.

I'd never heard Samuel raise his voice, but he sounded unhappy, so I decided to drop the conversation. The rest of the ride was, in fact, pretty awkward and completely silent, except for the typical sounds of the summer night outside our windows.

Samuel patched up my face, then allowed me to eat while he apparently communicated with his boss via his phone. It was even more uncomfortable to sit in the kitchen in silence than it had been in the car.

I munched on the cheese sticks for a moment while Samuel texted, and the impatience that had always been my greatest flaw made me address the question I probably should have asked two years ago.

"You know, I used to think that we had a pretty good thing going," I commented, before stuffing another whole cheese stick into my mouth.

Samuel looked up at me abruptly, and he did the completely annoying thing where he rubbed the beard at the tip of his chin. It wasn't fair to do that when I was trying to maintain an angry stance against the treachery he'd committed against me in the past.

"Yet, you left," he said calmly.

"That's generally what people do when they get cheated on," I retorted.

I'd sucker punched people before who had less of a surprised look on their face than Samuel did. I rubbed my mouth on the napkins that Samuel had thoughtfully brought home and waited for him to ask a question that was clearly trying to work its way out of him.

"What are you talking about?" he asked finally. "I never cheated on you."

"I got a text," I told him. "From someone named Vernon. Said he hoped my boyfriend was keeping him company on the late nights he was spending away from home."

Samuel closed his eyes and took a deep breath. That was, in fact, a tell-tale sign that he was furious. He never got worked up that way, except for when he was angry.

"The only late nights I was spending away from home were ones in which I was putting in overtime at my crappy job," he said finally. "We talked about it so much, but I didn't have a good ring for you, because you deserved the best. Jesus, I've never even worked with anybody named Vernon."

The silence that fell in the kitchen at that point was entirely my fault, as I struggled to consider his words. I both wanted them to be true and didn't want them to be true. On one hand, I had walked out on a relationship that I had adored on the basis of that text. If I had done that, and it had just been some sort of wrong number or prank call, then the misery that I'd had over the past two years was entirely my fault.

On the other hand, it was an opening that I desperately wanted to believe in so that I could have some reason to reach over and kiss that beautiful face that I had spent two years missing.

"Eric? Say something."

"I want to believe you," I said slowly.

"Then you should," Samuel answered, with his gaze intently on me as he spoke.

I remained in my chair, but Samuel didn't. He got up out of his chair and came over to stand in front of me. I could say that he kissed me, but in reality, I tilted my head up to meet his face, and it was only natural that his hands reached out and cupped my jaw before he moved in for a kiss.

I remembered all of Samuel's kisses being soft, light, and gentle. But this one was the Samuel who wasn't just an alpha, but was a dominant one as well. It was the Samuel that I had never known, but who I would have loved to have known. This kiss was rough, against my lips, and his mouth opened barely a fraction of a second before his tongue was pressing insistently against my lips.

The hand cupping my face dug into the soft flesh of my neck as I gave in to his kiss. It was such a rough kiss, but it was also so welcoming – fittingly, it was felt like I had come home.

I moaned into the open kiss, and I felt Samuel laugh into my mouth in reply.

"Is there something you want?" he whispered.

"You," I answered. "Especially this brand new dominant you."

"It's not new," Samuel answered, before he began to unbutton my shirt.

It was definitely not how we had ever done this in the past; we'd always simply taken our own clothes off and fallen into bed with one another. We'd been happy then, and perfectly vanilla.

But now, I watched as he roughly tugged at the buttons standing in the way of what he wanted, and I could feel myself growing hard at the simple sight. What had we been missing for two years?

"Same safe words system?" Samuel asked as the last button surrendered to his demands. "As yesterday?"

The warmth that had been so present in my stomach yesterday returned with a vengeance. The care mingled with his demanding nature was everything I hadn't realized I had ever wanted in an alpha, and never was that more present than when Samuel pulled me to my feet.

My Samuel, now a dominant alpha, pulling a championship MMA fighter to his feet. It took every bit of self-control that I had to answer him.

"Yes," I answered finally. "And you're on green. So much green."

In the pale lighting of the kitchen, Samuel laughed and made quick work of my pants. They pooled down at my feet, and Samuel tsked as they fell.

His face was soft with unleashed laughter, and his eyes crinkled around the edges as he watched me. Samuel watching me as I shed my clothes was tugging at some previously unknown omega kink that I wanted to explore, and all over again, I felt foolish for not exploring these kinks with him two years ago.

"You and those tight jeans. Glad they aren't really as hard to get you out of as I thought they would be," he said slyly.

Honestly, where had this man been all my life? Including the two years we had spent together, because I'm not sure even a fake cheating scandal would have driven me away from the hands that were capable of turning me around so that I was face down across the kitchen island table and having the back of my neck kissed in two quick, but successive movements.

"I'm going to hold you down," he whispered into my ear, with that meticulously trimmed beard brushing against the back of my ear. "I'm going to hold those arms down, and I'm going to take you against this kitchen island. That's what you want, isn't it, my pretty little omega?"

It felt like I had swallowed my tongue when I tried to reply. I nodded my head, and Samuel chuckled softly into my ear.

"Not until you say it."

I cursed against the countertop, which at the present, had far too much black marble in it.

Samuel's only response to my distress was a soft laugh against my ear.

"Jerk," I muttered.

"That's not anyway for a submissive omega to ask for what he wants," Samuel told me.

"Please," I managed to say. "Please hold me down and take me against this countertop."

Please, I thought, before I end up coming all over myself just from the feel of Samuel's weight on top of me. That would be both incredibly embarrassing and completely understandable, if anyone was asking me.

"Hands above your head," Samuel said. "Just like yesterday."

It was so easy to do so, but this time, it was only the weight of Samuel's left hand holding me in place. It was somehow even more intimate than what we had shared the day before – probably because this time, it actually was about sex.

His fingers wrapped around mine. I could hear his breathing, and I marveled at the way that it remained steady. I knew that my own breathing wasn’t steady at all. I felt as though I had ran ten miles uphill, and I kept having to take deep breaths to steady myself.

I didn’t want a repeat of what had happened at the studio, so I tried to focus on the here and now and not think about the future or even the past. But the times that we had shared together kept wanting to steal may attention, each time that the scruff of Samuel’s beard brushed against my neck.

“Are you comfortable, Eric?” he asked.

Comfortable? That wasn’t exactly the right word for it. But I arced back into him and searched for the right answer.

“I don’t remember you being this slow,” I answered. “Especially not when the kitchen was involved.”

An abrupt laugh erupted next to my ear, and Samuel pressed his face into my back to regain his composure.

His laughter gave way to gentle kisses into my shoulder, and the gentleness of the kisses contrasted in a deliciously torturous way with the his hands dug into my wrists.

I heard Samuel spit into his hand, and then felt the insistent pressure against my entrance. As he entered me, his hand tightened around my wrists and I gasped in utter delight against the coolness of the tile.

“Do you remember this?” he teased.

“Still slow,” I retorted.

“Awfully bossy, for an omega who craves being dominated,” Samuel noted, but it wasn’t a scolding.

His free hand reached around me and began to tease the hardness between my legs. The countertop was not as soft as a pillow, but my I still tried to bury my face into it to hide my needy whimpers.

I didn’t succeed very well, and Samuel kissed the top of my shoulder before whispering, “You do remember that, then?”

I could do nothing in reply but cry out, “Please.”

It was a plea for many things, some of which we had tried, and some of which we hadn’t - yet. It was a plea for him to get on with the show, and for him to keep taking his time.

Perhaps he understood every contradictory want I had.

The Samuel of my past had been gentle and considerate; this one was considerate, but not at all gentle. His thrusts were quick, as desperate as I had been to have him do me against the countertop, and punctuated by an equally rough jerking of my own cock.

The Samuel of two years ago would have never agreed to allow me to come all over his pretty kitchen island, but this one apparently didn't care.

"Dirty," he whispered against my ear.

"Look what you made me do," I managed.

He laughed again. Distinctly, I thought that we should probably have used some sort of birth control. But I had the thought just as he was filling me full of his cum, and I pushed that thought away.

After an amount of time that could have been a few minutes or could have been hours, Samuel kissed my neck and released my wrists.

"Thank you," I murmured.

"The pleasure was all mine," I heard him say. "You look exhausted."

"Yeah," I said sleepily. "It's been a long, great day. A great long day."

I flashed him my best smile, and in return, he swept me into his arms. What an incredibly alpha move, I thought, before he carried me up the stairs.

He tucked me into bed before crawling in next to me.