Omega's Stepbrother

drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead. So much for the heat suppressants.
“What the hell,” he whispered, painfully aware of Raph’s broad chest pressed against him, his tanned skin visible behind his white shirt. The water lapped against their chests. The crowd was around the pool, and all Wyatt needed was a little bit of privacy. So he could feel Raph’s bare skin against his own. Grind up against his cock, feel the full length of it.
He wasn’t over Raph at all, was he?
“Gonna get us out,” Raph muttered. He slipped his arm down Wyatt’s back.
Wyatt hissed, his skin tingling. And Raph glanced down at him, his blue gaze intent. He’d always been taller than Wyatt by a couple of inches, and Wyatt had to tip his head back to meet his eyes.
“Following me?” Raph murmured, so low that Wyatt barely caught his words.
“Yeah.”
The ferocity in Raph had washed away, leaving a slow-burning heat. Wyatt staggered backward as Raph walked them to the shallow end of the pool, where the steps were. The entire way through, Wyatt’s cock rubbed up against his thigh, thick and telling, and Wyatt had no idea how he’d deal with that when they stepped out of the pool. What Raph even thought about all of this.
“I need a towel,” he said.
“I’ll get you one.” Raph glanced around them. Wyatt ducked his head, his cheeks burning.
“Are they looking?”
“Not for long. It’s fine. Don’t worry.”
Don’t worry. At those words, something in Wyatt relaxed, like Raph had released a valve in him, venting the anxiety from his chest. Raph had always been able to do that, calm him when he worried. It was as though he knew the words into Wyatt’s heart, knew the things that Wyatt needed. Unlike Max and his cruel, harsh insults.
So Wyatt pressed closer to him, holding Raph’s arm gingerly with his fingers. To the crowd, it probably looked as though Raph was guiding Wyatt out of the pool, and nothing else.
“You guys need help there?”
“Yeah. A towel, please,” Raph said. “Wy’s freezing.”
Wyatt’s pulse staggered. Raph said his name. Raph damn well remembered who he was. The ache in his body throbbed anew, an insistent need that wound his nerves tight. I hate being in heat.
“I should go,” Wyatt croaked. There were too many people around. He needed to drag himself away, before he climbed into Raph’s lap and rubbed their cocks together.
For a moment, Raph didn’t say anything. He glanced down at Wyatt, his eyes considering. Wyatt realized he didn’t know if Raph was still the same man he knew, whether he had changed, or married, or wanted something else.
Raph smoothed his fingertips down Wyatt’s side, pressing lightly into the side of his ass. It felt like anyone would be able to look into the pool, and see the way they touched, the sliver of water between their chests. And the tent in Wyatt’s shorts.
“We need to talk,” Raph murmured, his breath damp against Wyatt’s cheek.
“Not—not here.”
“Yeah.”
As they reached the shallow end of the pool, the water’s surface dipped below their chests, to their stomachs. Wyatt peeled himself away from Raph, twisting to hide his arousal. The party-goers milled around them. They’d recognize him and Raph. If anyone saw the bulge of his shorts...
“Got you a towel,” the same beta from before said.
Raph smiled. “Thanks.”
Wyatt glanced up just as a folded towel sailed through the air, Raph reaching up to grab it. Raph’s biceps flexed, all solid muscle, and Wyatt stared. His body ached.
“Here, wrap up,” Raph said. He turned Wyatt away from the nearest townsfolk, stepped onto the shallow pool steps, and spread the towel open in front of himself.
Wyatt’s cheeks heated. This was too intimate, walking into Raph’s arms like that. But there was no other option, and maybe he wanted Raph to hold him close. Just once.
He followed Raph up the steps, holding his breath when his hips cleared the water. “I’m not eighteen, Raph,” he muttered. “I’m not little anymore.”
Raph’s arms wrapped around him, tucking him snugly into terrycloth. He studied Wyatt with dark eyes. “No, you’re not.”
A thrill shot down Wyatt’s spine. What do you want? You’re in a rut, aren’t you?
Up close, Wyatt realized that Raph had grown a little older, just like he had. Nine years ago, Raph’s face had been smooth, his lips curved up in a perpetual smirk. There were fine lines around his eyes now, and no smile on his lips. Raph tightened his arms around Wyatt, a comforting pressure.
Then Raph released him, guiding him up the steps with an arm across his shoulder, scanning the crowd.
To everyone else, it probably looked like Raph was pulling his brother out of the pool, guiding him someplace warm. Except Wyatt chanced a look down—the line in Raph’s jeans was still there. Beneath the chlorine scents, Raph still smelled like musk, like powerful, capable alpha.
And Raph was heading them up the stairs to the back door of the mansion, where a butler stood. The butler was new—Wyatt had met him for the first time an hour ago, when he’d been heading into the mansion for a change of clothes. Bob glanced briefly at Raph, then nodded at Wyatt.
“Thanks, Bob,” Wyatt said. If Bob breathed in deeply, he’d smell the musk on their skin. But Bob opened the door, and Wyatt strode through like he had every right to be in his childhood home.
The lights in the mansion had been dimmed—an orange glow kissed the violin paintings on the walls. Wyatt’s damp feet dragged across the hallway carpet, and Raph’s shoes squelched.
“That almost sounds like sex,” Wyatt murmured.
“That’s where your mind is?”
Was there somewhere else his mind could be? Raph squeezed his shoulder, and Wyatt imagined his touch further down. Between his legs. Up his ass.
The corridors were familiar—simple lights along the ceiling, cherry-wood trim lining the walls. Even though he hadn’t stepped into the mansion for a few months, Wyatt knew where exactly they were headed—the bedroom wing.
He held his breath as they stepped past their