Pete met Keegan at a bar near Murray Hill, which wasn’t particularly close to his apartment. It wasn’t particularly close to either of their apartments, to be honest. Both of them had to go a decent distance out of their way to get to it, which made Pete wonder why Keegan had chosen it in the first place.

The bar wasn’t particularly upscale, and it didn’t have any features that stood out in the mind, either. It was just a random bar.

Pete couldn’t say for sure why Keegan wanted to meet here, but he had been working with Keegan long enough to realize that Keegan did things for reasons of his own. They didn’t necessarily make sense to anyone else, and they didn’t have to. Pete would figure it out when he needed to, or he wouldn’t.

Whatever the reason, Keegan was sure to have more mischief behind it than just getting a drink, and Pete would probably have fun either way. He liked that about Keegan despite trying not to.

He didn’t think he should. Guys in witness protection should avoid, at all costs, spontaneity and anything that took them out of the driver’s seat. Pete still got a real kick from the sense of benign adventure that came along with Keegan’s loud suits and little pranks.

He’d had to give up a lot of his old fun, frolicsome ways when he’d taken up with Dmitry. When he left, he’d had to forget everything, including his old name and his old habits.

Pete understood why he it was necessary, but he missed being able to just relax, cut loose, and laugh every once in a while. He wished he could just sit back and enjoy himself, the way Keegan seemed to.

Not everyone seemed to appreciate Keegan’s joie de vivre. Pete and Keegan hadn’t been seated for more than ten minutes before a third man stalked in. He wore a bland suit in dark gray, with a lighter gray dress shirt and a teal tie.

He wasn’t very tall, and his dark hair was somewhere between “artfully tousled” and “half torn out in frustration.” His jaw was set, and he made a beeline for their table.

In Pete’s old life, he would have already headed for the exit. Someone who looked like that, and moved with that much determination, did not have good intentions toward the people he was visiting.

Maybe he had a gun or carrying some kind of poison. Pete tensed up, looking for the nearest door as the man dropped into one of the available chairs.

“You,” the stranger said to Keegan, “owe me.” He enunciated slowly and clearly, so that no one could possibly mistake his meaning, and picked up the draft beer list.

His face did not relax from its furious expression. Was he going to pull a Taser? A knife? Would he execute Keegan outside, or take his anger out on Pete, under the mistaken impression that they were together?

Keegan didn’t seem at all worried about this bizarre, accusatory stranger who could kill them both at any second. He just chortled. Pete had previously thought the term “chortle” was an anachronism, a word creative writing teachers railed against, but the sound coming out of Keegan’s mouth at this moment could only be termed a chortle.

“I take it Riot Dogs showed up?” Keegan said.

“As a matter of fact, they did.” The uptight stranger sat primly as the waiter approached, and ordered a Manhattan. “Not only did Riot Dogs show up, but the guitarist — his name is Beagle, in case you’re curious — was still drunk from two days ago.

“He threw up in one of the potted plants in the reception area, which killed the plant within ten minutes. You know, the ones the firm pays a monthly fee to have some guy come in and maintain every week. Those potted plants.

“It left a stink that made one of our estate-planning clients pass out. That might have been the chaps Beagle was wearing, though. Someone needs to explain to Beagle that when one wears chaps into a place of business, or any other public place that isn’t a fetish club, it’s customary to wear clothes underneath them.”

Pete covered his mouth to hide the way he was gaping. He didn’t want to offend the guy, who could still be armed, but the tale of Beagle was just too much. And the little man wasn’t done yet.

“The bassist,” he continued, without more than a small pause for breath, “curled up under the receptionist’s desk and went to sleep. This would probably have been less traumatic for her if he didn’t growl and bark while napping, like some kind of adorable flea-ridden pit bull.”

The narrator shook a finger. “Your friend Gavin, though, he took the cake. He barged into Mr. Clarke’s office, stood on top of his desk, whipped out his meat, and threatened to urinate all over Mr. Clarke’s wood paneling if he didn’t get ‘his omega’ out from under a contract to ‘that son of a bitch’ right now.”

The young man in question grabbed Keegan’s drink and downed it in one gulp.

Pete gulped from his drink to hide his snicker. He still didn’t want to piss this guy off, and the whole situation had probably been very traumatic to him. As an outsider, and someone who was unlikely to ever be asked to get someone else’s omega out from under a contract, it seemed hilarious.

Keegan just gave the stranger a cheesy grin. “Sounds like them. I only really know Gavin, though. I think his stage name is Rotty. As in Rottweiler.”

“I thought ‘Rotty’ stood for Rotten Meat, as in his breath. He must be one of your Hellion Club buddies.” The intruder spoke through gritted teeth. “I should have known.”

“Probably.” Keegan had obviously engineered the whole thing, but he didn’t appear to be at all repentant. “But hey, you can always charge him double now.”

The waiter returned, and Keegan ordered another round for everyone.

“Keegan,” the little man fumed, “as soon as he mentioned your name, the firm was going to charge him double. That’s just standard with your ‘sales.’” He used air quotes. “After that mess? Triple, plus a surcharge to replace the plant and have the carpet flea-bombed.”

“Come on, little bro. I don’t think Pitty Love has actual fleas.” Keegan tilted his head to the side and gave the younger man a knowing look, like he was just exaggerating the effects of Riot Dogs’ visit.

Little bro? Pete did a double take. That had to be a euphemism. These guys couldn’t possibly be brothers. No way. They didn’t look alike. They didn’t speak alike. And they didn’t come close to dressing alike.

“Tell that to Janice.” The “little bro” wrapped himself around his Manhattan like a man clinging to a life preserver. “Who found the fleas crawling on her leg, I should add. Actual fleas.” He reached down and scratched, probably reflexively.

Keegan looked and sounded unbothered, in spite of the other man’s words. “I don’t see what you’re complaining about. At the end of the day, you come out ahead. If I know you, you’ll win this case in your sleep.

“Plus, you still get credit for all of this new business. You’ll be a partner in no time.”

He turned to Pete. “Pete, this is my little brother Ty. Ty, this is Pete DeAngelis; he’s working with me on some interiors over at the Gardens, and a couple of other projects.”

“Please tell me you’re not letting him choose the fabrics.” Ty looked up from his drink and met Pete’s eyes. It was like being speared with identical lasers, a bizarre degree of intensity for someone talking about upholstery.

This time Pete didn’t bother to hide his laughter. “No, no. I value my reputation. I have a budget guideline, and the rest is all me.” He looked from brother to brother. It had to be a fraternity thing. “So you’re actually related?”

Ty screwed up his face and swallowed a gulp of his Manhattan. “Allegedly. I still want a DNA test. I’ve been saying you were switched at birth since I was three.”

“And I still think our dads found you under a cabbage patch.” Keegan looked up as the server delivered their next round of drinks. Pete was glad no one was driving. With the amount of booze these guys were putting away, they’d probably put a car into a swimming pool. “So how are things coming with the paperwork for the Gardens?”

Pete hadn’t realized Keegan was working with his brother on the project. He supposed it made sense, since there was supposed to be a partnership there. He just hadn’t thought about it at all.

That was dangerous. Keegan distracted him so much he wasn’t paying enough attention to basics, like the people he was working with. Pete needed to do better.

“They’ve raised a few eyebrows at the City housing department, but there’s nothing illegal about the paperwork. They think it’s a little weird for you to put all this money into low-income housing, but they’re used to landlords in this bracket treating people like cattle. They’ll adjust, or not, but it’s all within statute.”

Ty shrugged and took another gulp from his drink. “If there was anything illegal about being weird, you’d have been locked up for life a long time ago, Keegan.”

His phone went off. Ty glanced at caller ID, made a face, and sent the call to voice mail.

“I thought you lawyer types were married to your phones.” Keegan’s face shifted from good-natured grin to troubled scowl in a flash. That, too, was a demeanor Pete knew too much about. It raised goosebumps on his skin.

“We are.” Ty massaged his temples. “But Beau’s been going on about some guy, and he hasn’t stopped calling me since, like, ten this morning. I’m so done already, and I haven’t even met this jerk.”

“Can’t you just tell him no?” Pete scratched his head. It seemed like an open-and-shut case to him.

“Like that would stop him.” Ty’s shoulders slumped for just a moment. “For all I know, Beau would just show up on my doorstep with this guy in tow.

“Pierrick. His name is Pierrick. The third investment banker Beau’s tried to fix me up with this year.”

He shook his head and straightened his back. “Anyway, we’re not here to talk about that. I’ve got some papers for you to sign, Keegan. Do you still have a stake in that office building down on Wall Street?”

“I sold it last month; don’t you remember? You were the lawyer.” Keegan blinked. Apparently, the question was as much of a non sequitur for him as it was for Pete.

“They all run together, to be honest. That’s probably why you do real estate, and I do law. I don’t have to keep the buildings straight, as long as I can handle the paperwork and filing.

“Anyway, it was the right time to get out. A foreign company just bought the main tenant out, and they’re shutting it down. You’d be stuck with a lot of empty space.”

His phone rang again, and he tossed back the rest of his drink before looking at it. “Duty calls, I’m afraid. It was nice meeting you, Pete, but it looks like one of my clients got locked up again. I’d better go and take care of this. I’ll see you around.”

Pete watched Ty go. “That’s really your brother?” Ty was like a whirlwind, not sitting in one place for more than ten minutes. Pete had to hope the guy got paid well for always having to be so wound up.

Keegan snorted and swirled his drink around in his glass. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s him. Mr. Big Shot lawyer, right there. I do what I can with him, but you can only work with the materials you’ve got.”

“He’s, like, twelve!” Pete turned to face Keegan fully again.

“Nah, he’s just short. He’s twenty-six. They work him like a dog at that firm, though.

“He probably likes it. I guess that’s normal for white-shoe law firms. He never did have the first idea how to sit back and take it easy.” Keegan smirked. “Or how to dress.” He raised an eyebrow at Pete.

Pete laughed. “I guess you’re going to tell me you’re an expert now?”

“On having fun?” Keegan winked. “Hell, yeah.”

Pete met his eyes, and it wasn’t the booze making him warm like that. Getting together with Keegan in any way would be a terrible idea.

He knew he would do it anyway.

Keegan couldn’t have put his finger on exactly what had changed over the past month, to take Pete from sure, this alpha’s not hard on the eyes to let’s go back to his place. Maybe he’d jettisoned the baggage that held him back before. Maybe Pete wasn’t the kind of guy to go home with a guy on the first date, or whatever.

Or maybe he was just sick of looking at Keegan’s terrible suits and wanted them off, which suited Keegan just fine. It was an added bonus of wearing the bad suits in the first place.

Keegan wasn’t going to sit there and analyze it. He wasn’t the type to look a gift horse in the mouth. Pete had only had one drink; he was sober enough to make the decision. Keegan called for a Lyft, and they headed back to Keegan’s place right away.

He didn’t think about asking to go back to Pete’s. He liked the place Pete had designed for him and he didn’t feel a strong need to go elsewhere. If Pete had invited him back, he’d have gone, but as things stood, he didn’t feel compelled to make a fuss about it.

Pete didn’t spend a lot of time admiring his handiwork once they got to Keegan’s place. He bent his head and devoured Keegan’s mouth, taking the lead in a way Keegan rarely saw in omegas.

Keegan liked it. He loved seeing this kind of enthusiasm in his partner, loved knowing just how much Pete wanted him. Pete tasted like gin and winter — brightly-decorated shop windows, the scent of roasting cashews, and the promise of a quick warm-up and a delightful gift in just a few moments.

He ran his fingers through Pete’s long, dark hair, just as he’d wanted to do for a month. It was as soft and thick as he’d imagined. Pete let out a little sigh, right into Keegan’s mouth, and Keegan pulled back with a chuckle. He didn’t let go of Pete’s hair, though. “You like that, huh?”

“I’ve always liked having my hair played with.” Pete ducked his head a little, but he didn’t try to hide his face or anything like that. There was none of that false modesty or pretend shyness with Pete. He knew what he wanted, and he wasn’t afraid to show it, and it was the biggest turn-on Keegan had ever seen in his life. “It’s kind of a thing, I guess. Is it weird?”

“No. Not at all.” Right now, he didn’t think he’d call anything Pete asked for weird, but the hair thing was objectively pretty normal. He pulled Pete’s face back down to his and licked his way back into his willing mouth, all the while guiding him back toward the master bedroom.

He ran his hands along Pete’s lean sides. Pete exuded heat, even through his neat, sturdy clothes. Keegan could wallow in that heat just as it was. How much better would it feel when he got them off?

He slipped a hand under Pete’s sweater and let his fingers taste Pete’s silky-smooth skin underneath. “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect. It’s the whole point.” To emphasize his meaning, Pete pulled his sweater over his head.

It was such a simple gesture, but perfectly graceful at the same time. People rarely managed to be so smooth when taking off their clothes, but Pete made it beautiful.

Keegan grinned and got rid of his own jacket and shirt. He wasn’t as elegant as Pete, but he could admit he was probably biased at this point. Pete had every beauty and grace in his willowy body, with tight, compact muscles and a long torso that Keegan wanted to run his tongue down for days.

Pete wasn’t going to give him time to do that, though. He was already getting rid of his pants, and Keegan couldn’t see anything else right now. “My God, you’re gorgeous.”

He couldn’t think of any flowery words right now, or even any snarky comments. All he could think about was the stunning man in front of him. He wanted to know every inch of that body and see if Pete could maintain that loveliness when he came.

Pete was eager to get right down to business, but Keegan wasn’t that kind of lover. Sure, some alphas would be more than happy to climb on top of Pete and take everything he was offering. That didn’t make it right.

As far as Keegan was concerned, it showed an appalling callousness on the part of the alpha, or top. Maybe Pete had been with some rude men before, but he was with Keegan now.

He could see that Pete was hard, but he wanted the man to be absolutely starving for it by the time Keegan slipped inside him. He wanted this to be more than a transaction for them.

He wanted them to do more than just get off. He wanted them to remember this night, even if they never did it again.

The flip side of that desire was that he had no way of knowing how long it had been for Pete. Maybe Pete really was just that eager, and Keegan wasn’t about to judge.

Still, for him, being an alpha meant taking care of his partner, showing respect and care. He wanted Pete to feel amazing on every possible level.

He mouthed his way along Pete’s collarbone and teased Pete’s nipples. Pete seemed to like that, gasping like no one had ever done that for him before. Who knew, maybe they hadn’t.

When Keegan slunk lower on Pete’s body and wrapped his lips around Pete’s cock, Pete arched his back off the bed and cried out. Keegan could have cried at the thought that this — being taken care of — was new to this beautiful man.

Maybe he would cry, later. Right now, he was too busy rectifying that gross oversight.

Pete was beautiful when he came. He threw his head back, the tendons in his neck standing out as he tried to hold back a shout. When that dam burst, his cry hit notes that reached right down into Keegan’s soul. His release shot into Keegan in hot, strong bursts.

He swallowed everything Pete had to give, and kept right at it until Pete was soft. Only then did he let Pete slip from his lips and reach for the lube and condoms. His own erection throbbed painfully, but Keegan knew the value of patience.

He could more clearly see it had been a while for Pete, because Keegan had to work to open him up, even though the omega was clearly relaxed and happy. Keegan didn’t mind. How could he? His own cock ached with need, but he took his time.

He worked his way into Pete with short, shallow thrusts and gave him a minute to adjust. That was the hardest part. The hot, tight walls of Pete’s body pressed in on him, driving his need past the point where he thought a rational man could survive.

Only the fact that this was Pete, a guy who’d clearly never been properly taken care of before, held him back. He could do this. He could make it good, but only if he concentrated.

When Pete told him to move, in a breathless and shaky voice, Keegan let go. He snapped his hips back and drove back into Pete. The other man’s pale skin glistened with sweat as he looked up at Keegan, eyes wide and mouth a perfect O of amazement.

Keegan knew he was getting close. He reached between them and found that Pete’s cock had taken an interest in the proceedings again, so he wrapped his hand around it and gave a few tugs. That was all it took, and Pete came again with a strangled cry.

When Keegan felt the omega clench around him, he couldn’t hold out any longer. He let go too and collapsed onto Pete’s sweaty chest.

After a few minutes, he picked himself up to get rid of the condom and clean them both. Apparently he’d done well, because Pete startled when Keegan touched him with the wet cloth. “Wow,” he said with a smile. “That was … beyond what I expected.”

Keegan glowed and climbed into bed beside Pete. He knew some guys who were so confident in their own prowess that they didn’t need to hear that kind of thing, but they weren’t the kind of guys who had a lot of interest in the omegas with whom they were involved. His brother’s ex had been like that. Keegan took pride in pleasing his partner, and he took pride in not being like Sebastian.

“I’m glad. I had fun, too.” He took Pete into his arms and stroked his long, dark hair. “We’ll have to do it again. Maybe not tonight, though. I’m not eighteen anymore.”

He kissed the side of Pete’s head and inhaled the scent of his hair. Maybe they’d get another chance to do this, and maybe they wouldn’t, but Keegan was going to make every second count.

Pete chuckled and nuzzled Keegan’s chest as he drifted off to sleep. Keegan wasn’t far behind, but just before he gave in to the darkness, he noticed some patches of even lighter skin on Pete’s back. Was it his imagination, or were those scars from tattoo removal?