Omega's Stepbrother

as quickly as he’d found his release. “No way. I mean. No. You couldn’t have.”
All he could remember of his orgasm was the blinding high of it, the breathless, toe-curling pleasure that had seared through his body. Not where Raph’s cock had been right as it happened.
Could Raph really have come inside him? Wyatt reached down, touched the sticky streaks on his thigh, his ass. There was come right outside his hole. Was there any inside?
“Fuck,” he said, his heart pattering.
“Yeah. Fuck. Think a douche might work?” Raph turned onto his side, cracking his eyes open. He looked grim then, and slightly regretful. Like he wished he hadn’t touched Wyatt.
Wyatt swallowed. Maybe we shouldn’t have done that. Oh, gods. “A douche might push anything inside further up. I don’t know.”
“Damn it.” Raph shuffled on the bed, propping himself up between Wyatt’s legs. From that angle, he got an eyeful of Wyatt’s cock and balls. But what was new, now that they’d fucked?
Wyatt savored the memory of Raph inside him, so he didn’t have to think about getting pregnant, about the gut-curdling possibility of conceiving Raph’s baby. I should’ve just left.
Nine years ago, he’d spent his heat with Max, an alpha he’d found at the bar downtown. At first, Max had seemed kind. He’d bought Wyatt a beer, and Wyatt had followed him home. Then Max had sneered, thrown Wyatt around, and Wyatt had borne the brunt of his violence. Wyatt had almost seduced Raph. He deserved punishment.
For the next two months, Max had used him, had kept Wyatt around. He’d told Wyatt he’d been snipped, and then he’d fucked Wyatt every night, bareback. Wyatt had stayed. You deserve pain, Grandma had told him when he was five. You’re an ungrateful little child.
Weeks after he’d moved in, Wyatt had begun to throw up in Max’s dank bathroom, thinking he was sick. Max had convinced him he’d be fine, that the nausea would blow over. Wyatt had believed him—what an idiot he’d been.
He’d found out he was pregnant when he finally visited a doctor. Max had scoffed at the news. He’d told Wyatt that Wyatt had cheated, that he’d gotten pregnant somehow. And Wyatt realized Max had been lying to him every single day, that he shouldn’t have trusted Max at all.
Max had thrown him out. Wyatt preferred to think he’d left of his own accord. Then he’d spent the rest of his pregnancy alone, until he’d met Sam Brentwood at a night class. Sam had become his new best friend, but over the years, Wyatt’s need for an alpha had never truly waned.
And now, somehow, Raphael Fleming was back in his life.
“Okay if I touch?” Raph asked.
Wyatt blinked, his face burning when Raph’s words sank into him. “You’ve already touched everything.”
Raph shrugged, his ears turning pink. “Just thought I’d ask.”
He was so damn different from Max.
Gently, Raph pressed his thumbs against Wyatt’s ass, spreading him open. Wyatt swallowed. This wasn’t something they did under the influence of hormones. This was Raph examining him with serious eyes, Raph easing his finger inside Wyatt, swirling it around, pulling it back out. Wyatt moaned.
Raph dragged his thumb down the slick on his finger, studying it. “Fuck. I can’t tell if it’s from me.”
“Do it again,” Wyatt said.
Raph glanced at him. Then he pushed his finger back into Wyatt, crooking it, trying to capture a trace of his come. “You like that?”
Wyatt’s body hummed. “You think?”
Raph’s throat worked. He kept his finger inside, stroking Wyatt for minutes, never pushing further. Wyatt closed his eyes, relished his touch. Nine years, and Raph was here with him again. And they’d fucked. And Raph was still touching him inside. Maybe this was a dream.
Raph withdrew and sighed, stepping over to the bathroom. “Not working. I’ll get you some morning-after pills.”
Wyatt grimaced. “Ugh, no. I’m allergic to those. Don’t ask how I know.”
Raph looked sharply over his shoulder. He frowned, washed his hands, then returned to the bed, settling down close by Wyatt’s side. “Hazel?”
“Gods, how much did you find out, Raph?” Wyatt threw his arm over his face, tipping his face back. He’d spent years thinking Raph had moved out of Meadowfall, eager to put their past behind him. He hadn’t expected Raph to know Max’s name. And Hazel’s, too.
“Some. As much as I could.” Raph set his hand on Wyatt’s arm, squeezing lightly. “Didn’t know there were people allergic to those pills. I thought they were just hormones.”
“It’s the stuff they use to stabilize the hormones.” Wyatt winced. Those days had been terrible, when he’d tried one pill after another, and none of them had worked. “It varies across the brands. I tried about half of them, then I got too sick to try again.”
Raph released Wyatt’s arm, then held his hand. Wyatt sighed, pressing his face into Raph’s thigh. Raph smelled like sweat, like chlorine and teak.
“Sorry, I didn’t know,” Raph said.
“It’s fine.” Wyatt squirmed closer to him. “It’s not something that concerned you, anyway.”
Raph’s thumb brushed over the back of Wyatt’s hand. His knot had grown at the base of his cock, wide and dusky. Wyatt’s hole squeezed. That would’ve been a pleasure to take inside his body.
“You’re not freaking out.”
Wyatt sighed. “It’s not sinking in yet.”
“Look, we’re brothers—”
“Stepbrothers. Mom and Dad married.”
“You think those people care about the details?” Raph narrowed his eyes, jerking his chin at the window. “I’m not leaving you alone with a kid like some goddamn bastard, okay? Dad’s gonna freak. So’s Mom.”
Wyatt’s stomach plunged. He hadn’t thought about his parents’ reactions. “Oh my fuck. I can’t do this to them.”
“Neither can I.”
Like Wyatt, Raph loved their father. Dad had taken them on family trips to local recitals, had puffed his chest when Wyatt and his siblings performed for him. Mom had sewn suits for Wyatt and Raph, and dresses for Penny. She’d taught Raph to dance, and Raph had taught the foxtrot to Wyatt when Wyatt was eight.
Wyatt remembered the pride on his parents’ faces when he’d told them