Damian felt like he’d been hit with a sledgehammer, in the very best of ways. It felt like the time he and Oscar had decided to run the Boston Marathon on an impulse and they’d made it through without major muscle cramps or dying of exhaustion—mission training was not the same as marathon training, it turned out.

He stayed where he was, face buried in the side of Salem’s neck, cock buried deep in Salem’s body, until he figured out again how to breathe and move his limbs in a coordinated fashion. The omega was quiet beneath him, except for the kneading of his fingers up and down Damian’s back and the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Gently, Damian touched Salem’s face, his lips, traced his eyebrows. The omega smiled and his eyes cracked open. “Hi,” he said, with just a hint of the shyness his smile hinted at.

“Hi, yourself,” Damian said, stealing a kiss.

“I don’t normally start a night off like that.” Salem’s eyes scrunched up with his smile. “Thank you.”

Damian laughed, the unfamiliar sound startling him. When had he forgotten how to laugh? “I need to catch my breath.”

“Me too.” Salem craned his head to peer up the bed, then wiggled out from underneath Damian’s body. Damian almost chased him, wanting to extend that feeling of connection, but Salem had already escaped and, well—it was just a job to the omega, right? Though he seemed to enjoy it and, Damian hoped, he seemed to like Damian.

Salem wiggled into the space between some of the pillows heaped on the head of the bed. “Help me pull these down and come up here.” He shoved the sheets down out of the way, then fluffed the pillows and snuggled down into them, very obviously waiting for Damian to join him.

I still have hours of time left. Damian climbed up the bed and mirrored Salem’s posture, pulling the sheets up over their bodies. In a move that surprised him, Salem immediately slithered across the space between them and settled in against Damian’s side, his head on Damian’s shoulder.

“This okay?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Damian replied. It absolutely was. “You have the most beautiful eyes,” he added.

Salem laughed. “Thank you. I think they’re my best feature.” He reached out to gently touch his index finger to the bridge of Damian’s nose. “What happened here?”

Damian ducked his head and ran his own fingers over the bump. “Elbow. Friend of mine was in trouble, I stepped in. Should have dodged, I guess.” It had been when he was still in the Army and a couple of fellows got into it over some girl in the town near the base. He’d been trying to break it up, but he’d learned his lesson when they’d both turned on him.

Salem frowned lightly at him, then leaned in to kiss the tip his nose. “I don’t imagine that makes it any better, but at least I know I tried.”

“It doesn’t bother me. And you made a lot of me feel good tonight.”

“I’m glad.” The omega smiled again, that oddly shy crooked smile that seemed so perfect on him. “Would you like a drink? The room has a small bar, though if you want anything fancy I’ll have to send down for it. Or there’s juice, or plain water.” He laced his fingers together over Damian’s chest and laid his chin on them so their eyes were nearly on a level. “Or food.” Salem let his head tilt to the side and freed up one hand to draw patterns on the skin of Damian’s chest, random doodling that sent small aftershocks of pleasure coursing over his skin. "I might have a connection in the kitchen, if you have any cravings." He winked.

Damian felt no craving at all for alcohol, still riding the high of their recent encounter, but a quiet drink and some conversation before maybe exploring other possibilities would be...pleasant. "Can you do a rum and coke? But only if you're getting up to get something for yourself."

Salem got up in his knees and dropped a kiss on Damian's mouth. "Your wish is my command," he said, his eyes brimming with mirth, and swung over Damian's legs onto the floor in one lithe movement. The smell of sex and omega drifted about him and Damian's fingers closed briefly on empty air as instinct drove him to keep the omega close.

But the distance between them gave him a chance to really appreciate the young man currently kneeling on the floor in front of a tiny refrigerator built into one of the wall cabinets.

He guessed Salem wasn't any more than twenty-five, if that. Not tall, but not short either, slender, but the long bones were well covered in muscle and Damian suspected that the omega probably worked out somehow to maintain that sleek look. His hair was the color of buckwheat honey, cut to that mid-length that still looked boyish but could be styled to look like almost anything. Damian had worn his hair like that once, before he'd left for the army.

Salem stood up and cracked open a bottle of cola, pouring it into a glass next to a half-empty bottle of rum. He put everything quickly away, reached into the refrigerator for something else, and turned back to the bed with Damian's glass and...a bottle of water.

Damian accepted the drink and raised his eyebrows at Salem. The omega was already showing signs of renewed arousal, his cock slightly plumped between his thighs. "Water?"

Salem cracked the bottle open and took a drink, then smiled seductively and leaned over to give Damian a long, deep kiss. "I like to be one hundred percent present on a date," he whispered against Damian's lips, his eyes making so many promises. "How’s the drink? Did I make it right?"

Damian put the glass to his lips, but he couldn't look away from the omega. The cola was sweet, the rum was good, and suddenly he didn't need it at all. He drank the single mouthful, then set it aside on the table by the bed. "You did. But I think I might want to be a hundred percent present for this too." He reached out to run a hand down Salem's flank, then laughed when the omega climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips.

What a picture that was. The brief stab of homesickness wasn't unexpected, and it hurt exactly as much as he'd expected, but there was some other emotion too, though he couldn't put his finger quite on what it was. Damian stroked the flesh of Salem's thighs, his hips, his belly, but hesitated as he got closer to the deep pink line that curved between Salem's hips.

"Go ahead," Salem whispered, eyes fever bright. "You can touch it."

Damian's eyes widened, but Salem just nodded at him, an encouraging smile on his lips.

Carefully, as if reaching toward a fire, Damian spread his hand over the stretch of skin beneath Salem's navel and slowly let his thumb drift over the slight roughness of Salem's omega line.

Salem let his head fall back, his breath rushing out of him with a shudder. His cock grew visibly harder in front of Damian, such a temptation to touch if the omega line hadn’t been beneath his fingers. Salem braced his hands on Damian’s thighs behind him and leaned away from Damian as if he was asking silently for the alpha to continue what he was doing.

This is so wrong. But he couldn’t stop himself, running his thumb back and forth across the line, watching the pain-pleasure grow on Salem’s face. The omega squirmed a little on Damian’s lap, but his body was tense, as if he was afraid to move too much. Afraid something would happen? Or afraid Damian would stop? “Too much?” he asked gently.

“Noooo,” Salem moaned. His hands tightened on Damian’s thighs and he whined, arching his belly toward Damian’s hands. “Don’t stop.” The sheen of sweat that had started to dry on his skin sprang up again and his hips rocked restlessly. “Oh, Lysoonka!”

Fascinated and more than a little turned on by Salem’s reaction, Damian did as he was told, tracing his fingertips over Salem’s omega line, watching the man on top of him squirm and twist with pleasure. He was starting to get hard again too, but he could ignore that. There was time, and this was like nothing he’d ever done before.

A thought occurred to him and before he’d even really explored it, he rolled Salem onto his back and worked his way down between the omega’s thighs.

“David?” Salem asked in a confused voice.

“Shh,” David told him and then replaced fingers with tongue.

Salem shouted and his thighs fell wide in open invitation. While Damian played along that secret part of him, Salem grappled with the pillows, the bedsheets, and even Damian’s body, his head twisting desperately against the fabric of the sheets. He made a high keening noise and his entire body went tense, like he was in the middle of a grand mal seizure, until he let out a sudden cry and slumped back down onto the mattress.

David rested his cheek against Salem’s hip, watching the omega’s chest as it rose and fell above him, gradually slowing until Salem lifted his head to gaze down at Damian in bewilderment.

“Where did you learn to do that?” he asked, his voice soft and slightly shaky.

Damian shrugged. He couldn’t say it was rumors he’d heard as a teenager, or that he’d collected all the scraps of knowledge he could, in case he might someday come back to Val. “Usually tongues feel better anywhere fingers feel good,” he finally said, and it wasn’t entirely a lie.

“Whoo,” Salem said and laid back down again. He reached down to tangle his fingers in Damian’s hair. “Thank you.”

It struck Damian funny then, that he was being thanked for an orgasm by the prostitute he’d hired and he started to laugh. Salem peered at him, slightly shocked, then began to laugh too. “Come up here and rest from your labors,” Salem said when their giggles had finally died down. He tugged gently on Damian’s hair until Damian gave in and crawled back up the bed to tuck the omega in under his arm again.

“This is nice,” Damian said. “I didn’t think it would be like this.”

Salem lifted his head briefly and looked Damian in the eye. “It can be however you want it. This is your time. I am here to make it the best I can. Tell me what you want and I will give it to you.”

It might have sounded manipulative, it might have sounded business-like, but something in the earnestness of Salem’s gaze, the warmth of his voice, and the way his body molded itself to Damian’s side made it into something else. Like a promise between lovers, or even just good friends. Damian could have fought that lie, but he didn’t want to. He’d come here for the fantasy, for a moment of respite from his loneliness—he wasn’t stupid enough to refuse it when offered.

“Let me catch my breath,” he told the omega. “I like this.”

Salem laid his head down again on Damian’s chest. “I do too.” His arm tightened around Damian’s waist, almost as if they really were lovers. And Damian decided to let the fantasy envelope him entirely.