Omega Teacher’s Secret

things about child care, but doing that all by yourself? That had to really suck. “You didn’t tell the—the other dad?”
Gwen looked up, cocking her head curiously. Ian fidgeted. “There was no need.”
If he didn’t need an alpha, then why did Ian always look so hungry, whenever their eyes met?
It wasn’t something he wanted to ask in front of Gwen, so Brad tucked the question away. “What’s your favorite food?”
“Turkey!” Gwen said.
“Duck,” Ian said, smiling a little. “But slow-cooked until the meat falls apart.”
“Sounds good,” Brad said. “I think mine’s meatballs.”
Ian laughed. “Why am I not surprised?”
He looked good when he laughed. Brad decided he was going to make Ian laugh through dinner, just because he could.
“Well, before meatballs, I had a different favorite,” Brad said. Ian raised his eyebrows, so Brad continued, “Steaks. That’s what you get before the balls meet. Meatballs, get it?”
Gwen squealed with laughter, and Ian cracked another smile.
“Not funny,” Ian said.
“But you’re smiling,” Brad said, nudging Ian’s foot with his own.
“What, do you have a smile-o-meter that tells you?” Ian grinned wider.
“Yeah. It’s here.” Brad reached over, pressing his fingertips to the corners of Ian’s mouth. Then he pushed them up so Ian smiled wider. “It’s the make-you-smile-o-meter.”
Gwen giggled, and Ian blushed. “Are you sure this is something you should be doing?”
“Making you smile? Yeah, it is.” Brad grinned. “Didn’t you say I’d get all the brownie points?”
“You weren’t supposed to!”
“Well, too late,” Brad said. “I stole a couple more.”
Gwen looked at Brad, her eyes wide. “You can steal brownie points?”
Ian groaned. “No, you cannot. Don’t give her the wrong ideas, Brad.”
“But I wanna steal some brownie points, too,” Gwen said, bouncing in her seat. “Teach me!”
She beamed at Brad, and Brad hesitated. It seemed like a huge thing, promising Gwen anything. Brad didn’t want to fail her.
“Yeah, sure,” he said. “But only with your dad’s permission.”
Ian gave Brad an exasperated look. “I guess I’d have to vet the process first. See if it’s really something Gwen should be learning.”
Gwen made puppy-dog eyes at Ian, and Ian pursed his lips, looking as though he was trying to resist her charm. Brad would probably give in, if he were honest.
“Maybe,” Ian told his daughter. “I’ll decide when I get home. But if you brush your teeth and go to bed early for the rest of this week, I might say yes.”
Gwen squealed. Brad leaned forward, interested. “Does that mean I’ll get to see you guys next week? If Gwen is good and brushes her teeth and all that.”
Ian paused, meeting Brad’s eyes. “You’re trying to wrangle another dinner… thing, aren’t you?”
“What if I am?”
“Will there be more turkey?” Gwen beamed.
Ian laughed, covering his face. “I’ll think about it.”
But there was a rosy flush on his cheeks now, a brightness to his eyes that wasn’t there before. Ian was smiling, and he looked happier than Brad had ever seen him.
Felt good, knowing he was the one to put that smile on Ian’s face.
“But I’ll have you know that your… brownie-stealing method needs vetting,” Ian said, looking pointedly at Brad.
“I’ll give you something to vet.”
Brad let his smile fall away, leaving heat in his eyes. Ian’s cheeks turned a dark red.
If Brad had his way, dinner wasn’t the only thing on the menu tonight.
The food arrived a while later. Gwen’s eyes grew wide at the towering plate of turkey. Brad was just a little envious—he’d never had a full adult course served to him as a kid.
“C’mon, hon, smile for the camera.” Ian had pulled his phone out, and he was taking a picture of Gwen with her pile of meat. Gwen grinned, all teeth. Ian chuckled.
He sliced up the turkey breast for his daughter, sneaking a cube of meat. Brad watched as Ian chewed slowly, breaking into a smile.
“You like?” Brad rumbled.
Gwen popped a cube of breast into her mouth, her smile growing. “Mm-hm!”
“What she said.” Ian grinned. “It’s good. Juicy. I taste the thyme and rosemary—they might have brined the turkey first, with how moist it is. I mean, I wouldn’t expect any less, with the way this place is…”
Brad narrowed his eyes. “Ian.”
“Fine,” Ian said, slicing into his duck confit. When he popped the duck into his mouth and chewed, his eyelids fluttered shut. “Mm.”
“You like duck, huh?” Brad murmured. Dragged his foot up between Ian’s calves, to his knees. Then, between Ian’s legs.
Ian’s eyes flew open; Brad smirked. Ian looked incredulously at him. He glanced at Gwen, but she was sitting too close to the table to see where Brad’s foot was.
“Not that duck,” Ian spluttered.
“You liked mine.” Brad grinned, and Ian stared hard at his dinner, his blush reaching his hairline.
“You ate Brad’s duck?” Gwen asked her dad.
Ian’s eyes bulged out. “No, I haven’t.”
He really hadn’t, and maybe Brad had jerked off to the thought, more than once. “Maybe you should,” Brad said.
Ian stared, licking his lips. Maybe it was the wrong time to be hitting on him, when Brad couldn’t do anything but watch him across the table.
“I do roast a mean duck,” Brad said, dropping the joke. “Maybe I’ll do that for you next week.”
Gwen brightened. Ian looked tempted, and Brad knew it wouldn’t take much to convince him. Especially if he pleasured Ian tonight.
“I’ll tell you how I prep the duck later,” Brad said, raising his eyebrows at Ian. “You might be interested.”
And now there was a faint coil of musk in the air—Ian’s. Brad’s pants tightened. Ian was interested; maybe this would be the first Christmas in a while that Brad enjoyed himself, too.
Dinner passed far too slowly. Brad finished his meatballs, watching as Ian savored his food. Gwen stopped a third of the way through her turkey, sinking back into the seat with a happy sigh.
“Best dinner ever,” she said.
“Hey, what about the dinners I make for you?” Ian asked, but he was still smiling.
“I like them, too. But this is amazing!” Gwen did a happy wriggle, and Brad couldn’t help feeling a swell of fondness in his