Ty looked down at the stack of case files on his desk. There had to be a reason the firm hadn’t moved to electronic files, right? Oh sure, they had to use paper for archival purposes, but surely they could move information internally without killing an entire forest each time they needed to say something.

One of the other partners stuck his head into Ty’s office. “Any chance you’ll have those done by tomorrow morning?” The partner asking was Spada, never one of Ty’s favorites. A network of fine red lines had broken out across his nose at some point in the past few weeks. Spider angiomas, they were called. Everyone knew Spada kept a bottle of whiskey in his drawer and changed it more than once a week. Well, his drinking problem had only gotten him thrown out of court once. Ty shouldn’t judge.

“None, I’m afraid.” Ty checked the clock on his laptop. “I’m getting married in two hours. I’ll be out of reach for the rest of the evening.”

Spada frowned, blinking. “Getting married? That seems unlike you, Cunningham.”

Ty sighed, but only a little bit. Spada was right, after all. “I suppose it is. Everyone needs a change at some point, you know.”

Spada stepped a little further into Ty’s office. “You know,” he said, propping himself up on Ty’s desk, “this is a good step for you. Depending on your husband, of course. I don’t know who you’re marrying, but the firm tends to think well of family men.”

And what do they think of guys who walk into arranged temporary marriages for the sole purpose of getting pregnant? Ty schooled his face into seriousness. Spada wasn’t exactly known for his sense of humor. “That’s good to hear. We’re definitely hoping to start a family.”

“Well, good luck to you. A couple of hours, you say?”

“Yeah. It’ll just be down at City Hall, no big deal.” It certainly wasn’t the formal wedding he’d dreamed of as a kid, with flowers and champagne, but there would be a marriage license and everything. “I’ll be back to work tomorrow.”

Spada gave him a quizzical look. “How does the husband feel about that?”

“Fine. Fine. He gets it. We both have demanding jobs, so neither of us is really in a position to object.” He straightened his back. He had no idea how C. Bowman, 2B, NY, felt about it. They hadn’t communicated directly with each other at all. It bothered him on some level, that C. Bowman hadn’t reached out, but then again Ty hadn’t reached out to him. He didn’t even know C. Bowman’s first name.

“Okay.” Spada paused just long enough for the silence to be awkward. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Bright and early.” Ty faked a smile. “We’ve got that intake meeting at eight, and then we’re talking about the Delaney estate audit at noon.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to take some time off? It’s your first wedding, isn’t it? That’s usually a special time for a couple.”

“We’ll be fine, I promise. We don’t need a lot of fuss.”

Spada left the office with a weak little smile, probably to hit the bottle again. Ty gave some real thought to joining him. There was still time to call this whole thing off. No contracts had been signed. He could still retreat to his own apartment after work, play with his cats, and maybe even get a good night’s sleep.

He picked up a case file and looked at it, pretending to read it while his stomach tied itself into knots. Keegan came up with some stupid ideas sometimes, but this one took the cake. What had Ty been thinking, anyway, taking his brother up on this idiocy? Here he was, about to go say yes to a stranger—sleep with a stranger, on purpose! And promise to pay him, to boot!

He cleaned up his desk and packed up his briefcase. He shouldn’t look at the situation that way, like some kind of weird prostitution contract. Ty was a go-getter, a doer. He always had been. He’d never been content to just sit back and wait for things to come to him. He’d wanted independence, so he’d gone to law school, found a job with a top firm, gotten his own place, and now he was the youngest partner in the firm’s history. He was the only omega partner, too. He’d wanted a career, so he’d turned away from alphas who wanted a society husband.

He’d always wanted a family. This might not be the way he’d wanted to go about it, but he was getting the job done. Ty would be a dad, and if he had to marry some guy his brother had dragged out of the Hellion Club’s men’s room—

He stopped himself. Those were the wrong kind of thoughts to have. Who knew what Keegan had told this guy to get him to go along with this crazy scheme? What was his name again, Carson? Chris? Channing? Carter? Whatever. Ty took a deep breath and grabbed his coat. Whatever Keegan had told him to get him to go along with this mess, he deserved better than Ty’s resentment or contempt. He was doing Ty a favor—and being paid well for it—and Ty needed to remember that fact.

It was snowing as he stepped outside. He stood and caught a few flakes on his arm, marveling at how they looked under the streetlight. Then he shook them off to hail a cab. Once upon a time, about a million years ago, he’d been a skier. He’d been on the ski team, in fact. He hadn’t been on the slopes since undergrad, but he missed it. Maybe someday he could head back out there, take a vacation and enjoy the rush of a good downhill slalom again.

Then again, he was thirty-one now. He’d probably wrap himself around a tree or something. He hadn’t had a vacation in ten years. It had been worth it, but he probably shouldn’t think about doing those kinds of dangerous activities now that he was so out of practice.

The ride to City Hall took all of ten minutes. Ty tried to pretend he wasn’t nervous, but his chest was tighter than it should have been. He figured that was normal, under the circumstances. Most people were probably nervous on their wedding day, right? They probably didn’t hope their vehicle got caught in a ten hour traffic jam on the way to the venue, but he’d get over it eventually.

Ty headed into the office building and made his way to the justice of the peace’s office. He normally had a typical New Yorker’s speed when he walked, but now he trudged along like a Southerner strolling through molasses. This was a mistake. He’d done the wrong thing here.

He opened the door to his destination and pulled himself upright. He couldn’t show this kind of weakness, not in front of his brother and not in front of his soon-to-be husband. He needed to start things off with this unknown alpha—Carl? Cosmo? Crispin? on an equal footing, and Keegan was like a shark. If he sensed weakness, he’d be all over Ty in a second.

The City Clerk sat at his desk. Ty knew Fred Rodriguez, the City Clerk, comfortably well. Rodriguez had told Ty more than once that performing weddings was his favorite part of the job. He smiled broadly when Ty walked in. “Ty Cunningham! When I saw your name on the schedule I almost fell over in shock. I thought you were married to the firm, bro!”

Ty ducked his head and grinned. If he focused on Fred, he wouldn’t have to think about the other men in the room. “Ah, come on, Fred. All new lawyers are married to their firms. Otherwise they don’t get past that ‘new lawyer’ smell.”

“What, greasy takeout and unwashed bodies, because they haven’t left their desks for three days?” Fred raised his eyebrows at Ty.

“The smart ones wash up in the bathroom.” Ty grinned at him. “How are you doing?”

“Can’t complain. Can’t complain. The super in my building just quit, so of course that’s when the heater goes out, right?”

A deep, almost rumbling voice spoke up from the other side of the room just outside of Ty’s vision. “If you want, I could stop by and take a look at it tomorrow. My dad’s a plumber back in Nebraska. I’m not an expert, but I can probably get it running again until your landlord can get the right guys to come out.”

Ty turned around slowly. He’d seen pictures of his fiancé, of course. He’d done his due diligence. C. Bowman, 2B NY, was maybe six foot three. His dark suit was tailored to his thick, muscular frame, and made his green eyes stand out. If Ty had met him in a bar, he wouldn’t mind getting to know him better.

Those hands, the ones sticking out from under the end of his jacket, were huge. Ty pretended his mouth wasn’t watering. He was a lawyer. He wasn’t supposed to have those reactions, damn it.

Fred, of course, was oblivious to C. Bowman, 2B NY’s huge, strong hands. He was immune to his stirring, deep voice and his intense green eyes had no effect on Fred whatsoever. “That’s…kind of awesome. How come that’s not something that comes up on the sports shows, huh?”

An older Hispanic man standing beside C. Bowman, 2B NY swatted at Bowman’s arm. “Because if word gets out that he’s out there messing around with heaters and boilers and what the hell ever, it would invalidate his contract.” He scowled up at Bowman, and then smiled over at Fred. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell the big boss—but you’d better not get hurt.” His accent reminded Ty of Puerto Rico.

Keegan popped up and put his hands on Ty’s shoulders. Ty hadn’t seen him in the room, not anywhere, and so he jumped. Keegan seemed to find this hilarious, because he cackled like a hyena. “Dude, the look on your face, bro!” He doubled over, clapping his hands. “If you could see it! Anyway, did you bring the contract?”

“Right.” Ty sniffed. “Keegan, have you been at the bar?”

“I had one drink, bro. And then that prick Hannigan tripped and dumped his entire glass of whiskey onto my shirt.” Keegan straightened up. “Not that there’s anything wrong with a celebratory drink or two. My baby brother’s getting married! How exciting is that!”

Bowman grimaced. Ty couldn’t fault him for it, although he could have wished he’d kept it to himself a little better. Then again, if Ty wanted guys to not wince about marrying him he should probably have worked harder at becoming husband material, instead of partner material.

He pulled the contract out of his briefcase to hide his distress and passed it to his fiancé. Bowman looked it over. His hand shook as he read it. “Are you sure you want to go through with this?” he asked. He didn’t look directly at Ty, and Ty guessed he could understand that. He probably wouldn’t have looked directly at someone who had to pay someone to marry him, either.

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can always call it off.” Ty had lots of practice keeping his tone neutral and he needed every bit of it now.

“Of course he’s uncomfortable.” The man standing next to him, Bowman’s witness Ty supposed, snapped and stepped between them. “You’ve basically got him over a barrel, don’t you? He’s marrying a stranger, he has to sign a contract to do it, I mean this is all just the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard—and I’ve been in baseball since I was seventeen; I’ve heard a lot of dumb shit. Only a monster wouldn’t be uncomfortable with that. Which begs the question, what the hell is wrong with you, anyway?” He pointed a finger at Ty.

Ty took the contract out of Bowman’s hands. “And we’re done here.” He slipped it into his briefcase and headed for the door. His cheeks blazed with shame and humiliation. He hadn’t wanted to do this in the first place, damn it.

Keegan jumped to keep him in the room, all but tackling him in the process. “Hey, hey. You wanted a baby, this is the only way for you to get a baby. It’s okay, little bro.” He kept his voice low and soothing. “The mean guy doesn’t have to come around to your place. You don’t have to see him after you leave this room.”

He turned to Bowman and the nasty guy. “Look, Belmonte, I get that you’re trying to look out for your boy here. And I get that this isn’t the most conventional arrangement. But Carter here’s getting something out of this deal too. He’s getting money he needs, thanks to that financial advisor scam thing. He’s hardly being exploited. You can take a look at the contract if you want. There are no expectations on him that will take away from his on-field performance. And if nothing else, it should keep him away from any off-the-field shenanigans for a good three years. Am I right?”

Belmonte held out his hand and tapped his foot. Ty stared him down, but Keegan elbowed him. “Don’t be difficult, Ty. Christ, it’s not like you ever have to see the dude again.”

Ty passed the contract over. He didn’t have to see Belmonte again, but he did have to deal with Fred. Fred seeing him like this was downright degrading. If the other partners found out about this, he’d never survive.

Belmonte pursed his lips as he scanned over the contract. “Well, I can’t see how you’d be getting screwed in this, except in the whole custody department. But if you don’t want the kid anyway, that shouldn’t be an issue.” He handed it over to Bowman to sign. “I still say there’s something deeply wrong with you, Cunningham. Paying people off to marry you. If you can’t find someone to do the job the right way, you should just be happy with what you have.”

“The thought had occurred to me,” Ty told him, through gritted teeth.

Keegan stepped on his foot while Bowman signed the contract. “Hey. Shut up. And as for you,” he continued, looking over at Belmonte again, “lay off my brother. This whole thing was my idea, not his, so if you want to bitch at someone about it bitch at me. You have no idea what’s behind it all, and you could never understand, so just back off.” He took the contract, signed it at the witness position, and slammed it onto Fred’s desk.

Fred was startled into action. He duly signed and notarized the contract and cleared his throat. “So, ah, after all of that, I’m guessing you don’t want the flowery speech or stuff about love and romance, huh?”

Ty looked away. He couldn’t meet Fred’s eyes. “I’m thinking it’s a little out of place here, yeah.”

“All right then. Just, uh, sign in the appropriate places, I guess. All four of you.” He tugged at his shirt collar while the wedding party signed. “Okay, then. Do you have rings?”

Ty sighed and reached into his briefcase. He’d gotten wedding bands. He already wanted to take them back.

Belmonte snorted. “What kind of omega goes out and buys his own wedding bands, anyway?”

Bowman picked out the larger ring and slid it on to his own finger. Ty slipped the remaining one onto his.

“And you’re married. Congratulations.” A thin sheen of sweat had broken out on Fred’s high forehead. “I’m going to hit a bar.”

Belmonte stormed out, with Bowman close behind. Keegan followed. Ty made ready to follow, but Fred put a hand on his arm. “Are you really okay with all of this, man?”

Ty bowed his head. “Not really. But Keegan was right. There’s a lot at stake here that I can’t really explain, or hope anyone else understands. I just…“

“If you need anything, let me know. I don’t like it, Ty.”

Ty licked his lips. “Me either. But it’s what I have to do to get where I want to be.” He made a face. “I’m trying to pretend it’s like law school, you know?”

Fred patted him on the shoulder and chuckled. “Here’s hoping it works out just as well.”

Ty wasn’t going to hold his breath on that.

* * *

Carter hadn’t ever been the kind of guy to sit around and contemplate his wedding day. He’d figured he’d get married someday, but only after baseball was over. Baseball had been his life for so long there hadn’t been time for real love or romance, only casual flings. He’d been to a few of his friends’ weddings, though, and even the hastiest and most last-minute events hadn’t featured any grooms who looked like they were showing up to their own funeral.

Tyler Cunningham hadn’t smiled once. He’d walked in the door with his face as white as a sheet. He’d looked over at Carter, he’d gotten even paler, and Carter had only gotten that reaction once. It had been from a September call-up rookie pitcher with the bases loaded, when Carter had been in the middle of a scorching hot fifteen game hitting streak.

He’d thought he was being kind when he’d asked if Tyler was uncomfortable. The guy had taken the contract by the corner, like the thing was tainted or something, and stuck it back into that briefcase. Carter hadn’t asked to back out. He hadn’t tried to call it off, even though he had to admit this was the most pathetic thing he’d done for money in the history of time.

It was worse than the nude calendar he’d done in A-ball.

Now it was done. After Tyler’s attempt to bolt and Tracy’s vicious outburst, Carter and Tyler were married. They had shiny rings on their hands, and they stood in the City Hall vestibule in a little awkward quartet. What, exactly, were they supposed to do now?

Keegan—damn the man—clapped his hands once and rubbed them together. “Okay. I’m starving. Who’s up for a celebration? Steak dinner, my treat.”

Tyler gave his brother the oddest look. It was somewhere between I want to carve your heart out and I can’t believe I’m related to you. His skin had taken on a bit of a greenish cast.

Tracy curled his lip. “Are you for real right now? Do you seriously see anything here worth celebrating?”

Keegan favored Tracy with a steely glare. “Now that you mention it, yes. Yes, I do. If you don’t want to come with us, Belmonte, go home. Don’t sit there and be a gloomy Gus and bring the rest of us down.”

Tyler looked away. Something had to be going on here. Carter couldn’t make himself believe that Tyler was here voluntarily. Keegan had made it sound like he was on board and excited, but Carter hadn’t actually spoken to Tyler before today. And maybe that stunt with taking the contract away hadn’t been Tyler being easily miffed—maybe he’d just been looking for an excuse.

“Um, sure. Maybe we’ll all relax after a nice dinner.” Carter smiled blandly and played up the stereotype of the Big, Dumb Jock. Surely Keegan would let more clues slip if he thought Carter didn’t have two brain cells to rub together than he would otherwise. And if not him, maybe Tyler would.

Tracy looked up at the ceiling and muttered in Spanish. Carter wasn’t a hundred percent sure what he was saying—his Spanish wasn’t the best—but he got the impression it wasn’t very complementary toward his new husband. Something about “skinny short boys who have to buy husbands don’t make good company,” but Carter wouldn’t swear by that translation.

Tyler, though, maybe there was more to him than it looked like. He just blanched. He stuck his hands in his pockets, looked up at the ceiling, and said, “You know what? I’m going to pass. I’m not—I just don’t feel comfortable with that right now. You all can go to your Hellion Club or whatever. Have a good night.” And he took off down the hall with his head down, walking fast enough someone would have had to at least jog to catch up with him.

“I can see why he can’t find a husband on his own.” Tracy glared down the hall.

Keegan grabbed Tracy by the collar. “He speaks Spanish, you son of a bitch.” He dropped Tracy. “Damn it. Ty!” He chased off after his brother, who ignored him.

Carter turned to Tracy, who at least had the good grace to look ashamed of himself. “Sorry, Carter. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t think he’d speak Spanish, but that’s on me. I know better than to assume that kind of thing.”

Carter rubbed the back of his neck. He hadn’t been married for an hour, and already his marriage was on the rocks. If the marriage weren’t fake, he’d be pissed about that. “Yeah, well. It is what it is, right? Come on, let’s find a place to get a beer or something.”

They headed out into the night and looked around for the brothers. Not seeing them, he hailed a cab. They headed to a bar near Carter’s apartment, where they got normal pub food and beer. Carter signed a handful of autographs, and then they were left in peace. “Something about this whole arrangement stinks,” Tracy said, once their food had been delivered. “What does Tyler get out of it, anyway?”

“According to Keegan—and it’s Keegan, so you have to kind of wonder—his brother’s always wanted kids, but he wasn’t willing to give up his career. To get to where he is, and he’s the only omega partner at his firm and the youngest partner they’ve ever had, he must have been pretty darned focused. So, I guess he must just be feeling that whole biological clock thing.”

“Still. This isn’t a real family.” Tracy shook his head and took a gulp from his drink. “Someday you’re going to retire. And you’re going to get married for real, and you’re going to have kids for real. And they’re going to want to know about their big brother or big sister. What are you going to tell them? Sorry, I sold them for cash?”

Carter squirmed. “It’s not like that.”

“It’s exactly like that, Carter. It’s exactly like that, just spread out over a little bit more time. And if a guy can’t put his career on hold or prioritize a husband and family, he probably shouldn’t have kids once he’s gotten to that point, you know? It’s one thing for you. You’re a pro ball player, and you’re not the one who’s got to carry the child. But staying pregnant—it’s not so easy as all that. You really think he’s going to be willing to just put his feet up? You think he’s going to be okay with feedings at three in the morning when he’s got a meeting at seven the next day? No. No way.”

“I don’t know. I’m sure he’s already thought of all these things, Tracy. I just…Look. I needed the money. And I went through with it because a man should follow through on his promises, and now I’m just uncomfortable with something that’s going on there. Okay? It’s not even about having the money to get me through anymore. Once I saw him, and I saw how he reacted to things, I knew there was something else going on there.”

“Oh, sure, there’s something going on there all right.” Tracy made a face. “I’m sorry. I just don’t understand what you think he’s getting out of this. And I’m not sure this is what marriage is supposed to be. It shouldn’t be a transaction. It should be about love. That guy there, he’s not someone you can love. I’m not sure he even wants to be someone you can love.”

“I don’t know. I don’t know anything about the guy. I know he’s had some not so great relationships, I know he’s got cats—”

“Oh, my God, he’s a crazy cat omega, that’s even worse!” Tracy buried his face in his hands. “He’s going to wind up feeding your kid from the cat dish.”

Carter laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Okay, now you’re just being silly. He’s going to be fine. He strikes me as the kind of guy who does whatever he sets out to do, and does it well. If he’s set out to start a family, he’ll raise the kid just fine. According to Keegan, I’m just the donor.” He shrugged. “A well-paid donor.”

Tracy pinched the bridge of his nose. “You shouldn’t have to be a donor. You should be able to be your own person, living the life you want.”

“Look, I got Madoffed. What are you going to do?” Carter clenched his jaw and waited for his anger to subside. “It is what it is. This will tide me over, and who knows, maybe he’ll turn out to be the kind of lawyer I can use sometime down the road.”

Tracy finished his beer in one gulp. “Well, I hope so, but it’s not looking good.” He stood up. “Anyway, I’m going to have to head down to Florida soon. Hopefully things look better soon.” He patted Carter on the shoulder, threw some cash in for the bill, and took off.

Carter’s phone buzzed with an incoming text just as Tracy walked out the door. It came from Keegan’s phone. I’m guessing you and Ty never exchanged contact info.

Carter blushed. Fortunately, the bar was dark and no one could really see. No.

Keegan replied with an address in Murray Hill. Your husband’s apartment. Bring something boozy.

Carter rolled his eyes. Was he supposed to get the poor guy drunk? He signaled the server, paid the check, and left. Fortunately, there was a liquor store near Ty’s apartment that had some decent wines. Champagne might not be entirely appropriate here, but a little bit of something red could be okay.

He asked the doorman to call Mr. Cunningham and got only a raised eyebrow. Seriously, who did this guy think he was? “Could you tell him it’s Carter Bowman, please? He’s expecting me.”

The doorman picked up his phone and somehow managed to convey enough scorn with the gesture that Carter wondered if the guy was somehow psychically projecting it right into his brain. After a moment’s conversation, the doorman turned back to him. “Mr. Cunningham will see you. He’s in Apartment 4-D.”

“Thank you.” Carter headed over to the elevators, and silently gave thanks that their contract precluded the need for them to cohabit. Selling his condo would give Carter some badly needed money, but he’d rather drink poison than live here. Sure, the pre-war building was nice, but dealing with the doorman on a daily basis would be misery. Finding that the elevator had an actual elevator operator did not make the place more desirable.

He found his way to Tyler’s apartment and knocked softly on the door. Keegan answered the door, and a small black cat tried to make a run for it. Carter dropped and caught the critter before he could get far, resulting in angry mewling and fierce struggling.

“Little bastard likes you,” Keegan said, letting him in and shutting the door behind him. “If that had been me I’d already be bleeding from three places.” He looked Carter over. “All right. You listened when I told you to bring the booze, anyway. He’s in the living room, wine glasses and corkscrew are in the kitchen, you’re welcome. Have at it.” He patted Carter on the shoulder and headed for the door. “Hey, lock up behind me, would you? I’ve got a date.”

Carter gaped at him. “You’ve got a date? Dude, you’re not staying?”

“It’s my little brother. This is his wedding night. No, I’m not staying. That’s screwed up.” Keegan made a face at him and left. Carter caught the little black cat just in time.

He locked up behind Keegan. The little black monster turned his back on him, chatting crossly as he stalked out of the room. Carter was now alone with his husband…and his cats.

He wasn’t afraid of cats. He wasn’t.

He headed into the kitchen and opened the wine. After a second’s work, he found two wine glasses in the pristine kitchen and walked around until he found Tyler. There wasn’t much on the walls. Most of what there was looked like it related to ancient Egypt somehow. Great. The guy’s obsessed with cats and into ancient Egypt. He’s going to sacrifice me to their cat god or something.

He found Tyler after a few seconds’ wandering, with the help of the chatty little black cat. Tyler was folded on one of the couches in what looked like an uncomfortable position. He wore sweats and a plain white tee shirt. One cat sat on his hip, and another was pressed up against his belly. He looked up at Carter.

“Hey.” His voice was soft, and his hazel eyes downcast. Then he folded his lips together, exhaled, and straightened his back just a little. “I figured you’d gone out.”

“I got a bite to eat, and then Keegan clued me in on where you live, so.” He held out a glass of wine. “I didn’t know if you were a drinker or not.”

Tyler took it. “I’m not, typically. Don’t really have the time.” He sipped. “Thank you.”

Carter took it for as much of an invitation as any. “So. This is weird. A little awkward.”

Tyler huffed out a little laugh. “That’s one way of putting it.”

“We don’t have to do anything tonight, man. I get that there’s an end goal in mind, for you. And that’s fine. But I also…” He trailed off as he saw Tyler’s shoulders stiffen. “I’m going about this all wrong. I don’t want anything to feel forced or anything on your end. We’re basically strangers, and you don’t strike me as the kind of guy who’s used to random hookups. So, if you’d rather not take that step at this point, I won’t be offended. I promise.” He ran his hand through his short hair. This whole thing was awkward as hell.

Tyler looked down for a second, and then he shifted. The two cats scattered, and Tyler stood up. “I think the sooner we get through it, the better. Don’t you?” He moistened his lips. “I know this isn’t exactly your idea of a picnic either. The sooner we get the baby out of the way, the better and less awkward it will be for both of us.”

Carter bit his tongue and tried to decide if he should be offended by that statement or not. After a second, he decided that he didn’t need to be. Tyler really was just here to make a baby. He wasn’t necessarily thrilled about it, but he did want this, in his way. “Okay then.” He put his hands on Tyler’s shoulders. “Is it all right if I kiss you?”

Tyler nodded, slowly. It took a second or two for him to warm up, but once he got going he wasn’t a half bad kisser. He responded well enough to Carter’s touches, and his skin showed heat as Carter touched it. When Carter tried to slide his hands under Tyler’s shirt, though, Tyler insisted that they move to a bedroom.

Whatever. Tyler was the one driving the bus here.

In here, with only the glow from the streetlight to light their way, Tyler livened up still further. He found lube in the nightstand, made sure Carter could find it, and he definitely knew what he was doing when he worked Carter up to full hardness.

Carter worked him open as gently as he could, trying to pay attention to his husband’s little cues. Unlike most of his partners, Ty was not a talker. He didn’t make much sound at all. He seemed to be enjoying it on some level—he got harder as Carter moved along, and he gave little sighs and choked-off moans—but he fought against any expression of it.

Carter wouldn’t have minded watching Tyler’s face as he entered him, just to get some feedback, but Tyler wanted to be taken from behind. He buried his face in his pillow, so he could hide his pleasure even more.

Carter didn’t understand that, and he wasn’t sure he liked it, but he didn’t let it stop him. He sank himself deep inside of Tyler. Tyler’s body felt amazing around him, hot and tighter than anyone Carter had known in a very long time. He thrust into him again and again. Tyler might not want to show his enjoyment, but Carter would give full voice to his.

When he’d finished, he pulled gently out of his husband, and went to go get a washcloth to clean them up. He worried, as he fumbled around in the darkened bathroom, that he’d screwed it up somehow. Had he managed to leave his husband unsatisfied on their first night together—their only night together, if Tyler caught?

But no. Tyler had come, the evidence clear on the sheets. Carter cleaned him up and stood, awkward for a moment. With a normal hook-up, he’d wrap his partner up in his arms and hold them for at least a little while. Tyler wasn’t normal. What did he want?

“Er, we should probably exchange phone numbers or something.” He scratched at his beard.

Tyler sighed, and sat up. He picked his phone up off the nightstand. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. What’s your number? I’ll text you, and that way you’ll have my number.”

Carter rattled it off. “At least this way we won’t have to have your brother running messages back and forth for us.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that happening ever again.”

Carter pulled his clothes on. “I guess we’ll talk tomorrow or something?” He slunk out the door, a strangely unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach.