Page 25 of Glitterati Omega

Rupert knew he wasn’t precisely light; he never had been—sturdywas generally what Charli called him. Big-boned, heavy,fatwhen someone was feeling particularly churlish—he’d been called all that and worse.

Winston made an admirable effort at not showing any strain in lifting him; the alpha was taller but decidedly lankier. Rupert pictured him as more a runner than a weightlifter, and he had half a mind to tell the alpha to put him back down; he’d crawl if he had to. He didn’t want Winston to put his back out or something.

But then that also seemed an insult to the dark-eyed alpha’s dogged determination in carrying him down the hall, and Rupert, drunk on both alcohol and euphoria, couldn’t let that effort go without commendation. He leaned up for a kiss, nearly upsetting them both, stealing Winston’s breath when their mouths met.

The alpha tossed him down on the bed, trying to hide how he was panting. Rupert curled one leg up, reached down, and took off one of his Choos, which he threw into the void of the bedroom. “I’m not insulted,” he drawled. “Actually, I’m quite impressed you managed that. You’re the spindly one here.” He pitched his other shoe, and Winston winced as it hit the dresser, then clunked on the floor.

Rupert gave him an appreciative look. “Stronger than you look,” he mused. “Could you hold me down, throw me around a bit?”

Winston arched a brow. “Would you be into that?”

“I have no fucking idea anymore,” Rupert spat. “I was married for five years and apparently never climaxed. I’ve no idea what I like.”

“You seemed to like getting bit.”

“Nn, yes. To be fair, though, I think I just liked all of it—novelty, you know. Maybe.” He kicked his heels. “Care to unlace me, love?”

“Mm,” Winston said, and then the doorbell rang, echoing through the house. “Perhaps not.”

“Who the devil is that?” Rupert growled. “Tell them to go away!”

Winston chuckled, even as he drifted out of the room. “I rather think the delivery driver would be upset.”

“Delivery!” Rupert scoffed. “Why on earth—”

“I thought you might like something to eat!” Winston hollered back, and then the front door peeled open.

Rupert frowned, contemplating that. He’d had dinner; why on earth would he want any more food? He knew he wasn’t a waif like other omegas, but that didn’t mean …

Winston returned with a brown paper take-out bag, a logo on it which Rupert didn’t recognize. He peered up at the alpha curiously.

“Nachos,” Winston explained simply, and Rupert lifted both brows. “They’re excellent when you’re drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk,” Rupert replied.

“We can remedy that,” the alpha said, producing a bottle of red and two wine glasses.

“Oh,” Rupert said, twisting around. “You’re going to get drunk with me?”

“Mm, perhaps not drunk.”

“What’s the use in that?” Rupert complained.

“One of us should probably be able to tell where he’s putting his fingers.”

Rupert flushed hot. “Oh,” he said, then ripped open the take-out bag and peered at the contents. “These aren’t nachos?” He wasfairlycertain he knew what nachos were.

“Those are churros, poppet. The nachos are in the other container.”

He had no idea what a churro was, but he didn’t want to look uncultured, so he needed to redirect. “I’m poppet now, am I?”

“Do you preferdoll?” Winston did a disturbingly wonderful impression of the American accent.

“No,” Rupert giggled. “You sound like you’re from those mafioso films.”

Winston laughed, then poured wine into one of the glasses and handed it to Rupert. “Well then, I supposepoppetwill have to do. It means the same thing.”

“It sounds better,” Rupert said, then paused to get the nose of the wine. “What is this?”