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Ishir scrunched his nose. “That’s just…no.”
“The handles can be dicks. The faucets, cock and balls.”
“Okay, I take it back. You like the idea too much,” Ishir mock-protested.
“The seats can be squishy butts.” Zee was grinning now, brown eyes lit up with it.
“I would pay so much money to take the guys to that bar. Bergy would fucking love it,” Ishir joked.
For some incomprehensible reason, Zee suddenly shut down again, amusement draining from his face. “Yeah,” he said flatly, turning towards the bar as they waited their turn to order.
They managed to grab a couple of seats as a group got up to go to the dance floor. Ishir couldn’t help but notice how Zee didn’t sit right next to him, leaving a few palmfuls of space between them.
“You okay?” Ishir asked. “You’re acting weird. If you don’t wanna do this anymore—”
“No. I mean, it’s fine,” Zee said even though it was obviouslynotfine.
Whatever. Ishir wasn’t going to be drawn into Zee’s mood. He’d scored a goal, and he deserved a reward. He’d been waking up hard and aching every fucking morning sincethat night, and if he didn’t come soon, he was going to shoot during a dream like a teenager.
Ishir expected Zee to snap out of it. To look around the room with that hunting gaze of his and pick someone out. To tell Ishir exactly what to do and exactly how to do it and then watch him go.
Instead, Zee barely glanced at anyone other than Ishir. They fell into a conversation about Olive and Levy, about how the Hounds were doing, about Orion, about soft serve ice cream. Zee went on a tangent about the summer they turned fifteen, how hot it’d been at home, how Ishir had burnt across his shoulders, brown skin turning white and flaky.
Zee had picked at the strips of skin that night as they watched a game, hands gentle and soothing, and Ishir had tried not to pop a boner when he followed it up with some cream.
“Gotta take care of these babies,” Zee had said as he rubbed into the muscles.
It had all been straight-bro shit. Ishir knew Alphas who flicked each other in the dick, who cupped each other’s balls as a joke. Had seen teammates kiss during spin the bottle and make faces at each other. In those teenage years when any touch could turn them on, team wasn’t sexual. It wasn’tgay.
Except when it came to Ishir, of course.
It had been isolating. The same act was experienced in a completely different way by Ishir. Some wrong and dirty way he’d had to keep hidden.
Even now, there was something distinctly forbidden about it. Would it be such a big deal, what was going on between him and Zee if Ishir was an Omega? Would Zee see him in a different light, love him in a different way?
It was too depressing to think about. Ishir didn’t want to be an Omega. He didn’t even want to be straight. He was who he was, and there was nothing wrong with that.
It just…it was hard to remember that, sometimes.
An hour passed, Zee chatting away, making no move to choose anyone.
Ishir interrupted him mid-sentence. “So? You gonna…”
Zee snapped his mouth shut. A scowl took over his face. “What?”
“You know what.”
“There’s nobody good here,” he mumbled, barely audible over the music.
“You haven’t even looked.”
Zee sighed dramatically, making a show of peering around the room. “There’s nobody good,” he repeated through clenched teeth.
Ishir’s stomach tightened. Truth was, he was perfectly capable of choosing someone himself.
He just didn’t want to.
The only thing worse than the torture of having Zee involved in his sex life was having him divorced from it completely.
